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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.



   This story would not have been possible without the valued assistance,
advice and collaboration of Ms Corinne Meadowlark, a very special lady.









   BIG FEATURE AT ST CAT'S

   by Some Sort of Dog









   Part XVII









   Chapter 49:- Toria's Return



   A small but noisy and agitated crowd of Second Formers had gathered
round the notice board.  It took some time to elbow them politely out of
the way to see what they were getting so het up about.

   "What's it mean, Miss?" asked one girl, plaintively.  I curled my lip in
an unpleasant snarl and gave her a blast of scorn.

   "Can't you read, four-eyes?" I enquired.

   "No, Miss", she replied meekly.  "Your breasts are in the way, Miss."

   A typically lame excuse.  I approached the notice board until my breasts
contacted the wall and squashed inwards several inches.  The notice was
still too far away to read.  Why couldn't that bloody Labia woman use a
larger typeface?  Fortunately, one of the less disadvantaged girls was
reading it out loud.

   "Avoid Reducing Cream," she read.  "Girls are advised that the present
batch of Breast Reducing Cream obtainable from the First Form Sexual
Chemistry Group is corrupt and should not be used." A gasp went up from the
girls.

   "Corrupt?"

   "Oh, shit!"

   "What's 'corrupt' mean?"

   "This means," continued the Oracle, "that although the cream appears to
work satisfactorily at first, with substantial reductions in breast size as
well as the size of other body parts, the effects are temporary."

   "Temporary?  Oh, no!"

   "Oh, my God!"

   "Those rotten First Formers!"

   "Furthermore, when the breast tissue grows again, there will generally
be an increase to between 10% and 50% in excess of the ORIGINAL size. 
Students are warned that their rights to subsidies on larger brassieres,
blouses, extended neckties and wheelbarrows will be affected if they are
found to have employed Breast Reduction Cream in contravention of this
notice."

   The girls had rather a sing-song reading voice, but she handled the
longer words nicely.

   Silence fell.  I formed the distinct impression that some of the girls
in this group had already used the cream themselves, probably during the
last few hours.  There were certainly one or two girls in the group who
would have been described - at any school other than St Cat's - as
considerably overdeveloped.  The truth was written in their faces.  They
were blushing, not at all prettily.

   The consensus of opinion was that their Mums would kill them.

   "Have you used this cream, Salacia?" I asked one heavy-set girl.  She
nodded.  "And you, Oksana?" Another nod.  "Well," I said, to cheer them up.
"You may find that your other parts will remain smaller after your busts
grow again.  It's a dark cloud that has no silver lining.  Although your
families will find themselves paying the full price for your next bras and
blouses.  It's a case of swings and roundabouts.  A chicken and egg
situation."

   "Sort of Catch 22, Miss?"

   "Probably," I admitted, vaguely, and made my way up the corridor with
all the dignity I could muster.  Each of the other public notice boards had
its little crowd of girls, and from what I could gather, quite a number had
been using the Breast Reduction Cream.  I would have to have a serious word
with young Suzanne.  The opportunity came sooner than I expected.

   "Ah, Suzanne!  A brief word, please!"

   She had tried to flee when I came round the corner, but had collided
with the doorway with a great rubbery splosh of entirely unenhanced breast.
She staggered back into my path, breathing heavily.

   "A word, Miss?  With me?"

   "Reducing Cream.  Shrink.  Have you been selling it?"

   "No, Miss!" She quivered in righteous indignation.  "I never heard of
such a thing, Miss!"

   "One of the girls said you did her for two pounds," I said, craftily.

   "Two pounds?" Suzanne shrieked.  "It's a fiver a go.  Who's been
undercutting me?  Anyway, we were going to cut you in on the profits, Miss,
as you helped us mix it and everything." She fished under her skirt and
emerged with a roll of grubby notes from somewhere.  "Here's a tenner,
Miss. Your share."

   The money was warm and smelled powerfully of girl.  I thrust it back at
her, but she refused to take it.  At last, rather than throw it away, I
slipped the note into my cleavage, and Pansy appeared from round the corner
with a camcorder over her shoulder.  She gave a thumbs up sign to her
cousin.

   "It's all gone, anyway, Miss," said Suzanne.  "And we only had enough to
do about twenty girls.  Maybe two dozen at the most.  And they all needed
it."

   "Needed what?" I yelled, heedless of the crowds of curious girls
passing. "Needed smaller breasts?  They're going to finish up even bigger.
Their Mums are going to kill them."

   Some of the passing girls began to cry.  Well brought-up girls, they
were strangers to such violence.  Throughout their lives they had been
gently cossetted, cocooned, buttressed against harsh reality.  They
probably even thought all girls everywhere had huge breasts like their own.

   I lowered my voice and scowled menacingly at Suzanne and Pansy.  "You
have not heard the last of this," I told them.  "It is a disgrace."

   "All right, then, Miss," sighed Suzanne, producing her roll of money
again.  She peeled off three more five pound notes and tucked them into the
neckline of my blouse.  "Twenty-five, Miss.  Sorry, Miss!"

   "That's better, Suzanne." I patted my bodice to make sure the money was
safe.  "We'll say no more about it, then.  Off you go!"

   I watched them bounce away.  Children today!  I shook my head. 
Twenty-five girls at a fiver each, split five ways ...  and she'd offered
me a measly ten pounds.  Did they think I was still wet behind the ears?



   **********

   "Miss Gruntwurvy!  Wot a surprise, innit, Flaps?  We was just saying we
hadn't seen our Miss Gruntworthy for ages, and she turns up." Clit looked
me up and down.  "Whatcha want?  New bra?"

   "No, not me.  I'm still the same size."

   "Yer arse ain't," said Flaps, rudely.  "You're gettin' a right fat pig!"

   "Don't mind her," Clit comforted me.  "It's her time of the month again.
It comes round every week.  Mind you, you *are* getting a bit of a backside
on yer.  And a gut, too." She prodded my stomach none too gently and patted
my bottom hard enough to make everything quiver.  "Not enough of the right
kind of exercise, my girl, that's your trouble."

   An hour later, after a session of the right kind of exercise, I
struggled back into my skirt.  It was unfair, Clit and Flaps never needed
to undress nor dress again afterwards; one of the advantages of working in
the nude.

   "There's one thing about you having such a big bum, Miss Gruntwurvy,"
sighed Clit as the last of my generous rump disappeared from view, "there's
plenty to hold on to."

   I blushed prettily.

   "Right, then," enquired Flaps, looking at the clock, "what was it you
came for?"

   It wasn't easy to remember.  I was still buzzing away down below, as if
one of them had left a vibrator inside me.  Tingles ran all over my body
from my nipples.  I shuddered helplessly a few times.

   Clit watched me with interest.  "Your friend come in yes'day, your Miss
Meadowlark.  She's fuckin' enormous!  Miles bigger than you, now.  And only
tiny, and skinny.  I nearly flooded the place out, just measurin' her."
Clit was touching herself as she replayed the memory.  "What happened to
her, growing like that?"

   I had suddenly remembered the purpose of my visit.  "It's a new cream
we've been trying out.  It makes you smaller, all except for your boobs. 
It seems to make them bigger."

   "Cor, we'll have a gallon of that, won't we, Flaps?"

   "No, it's all gone," I said.  "The First Form Sexual Chemistry Group
used it all up on some of their friends in the Seconds and Thirds.  There
will be about twenty five girls coming to you, tomorrow, for bigger bras
and new blouses.  Anything from fifty inches upwards.  Are you prepared?"

   Flaps threw down her scissors and swore bitterly.  "Fuckin' place," she
complained.  "We no sooner get on top of our stocks and they grow another
bunch of kids to some stupid size.  What's up with them?"

   "Don't you mind her," Clit giggled.  "Soon as she gets her tape measure
wrapped round some of them nubile tits and arse-holes, she'll be 'appy as a
pig in shit.  Send 'em over, we'll fit them up okay.  In fact ..." Clit
began to rummage under her work bench.  "'Ere, try this for size!" She
handed me a bile-green bra in a plastic bag.  "Not NOW!" she yelled, as I
started climbing out of my blouse again.  "If you get that lot out, I'll
have to fuck yer for another hour, and we're pushed for time as it is.  Try
it later, in yer room.  And tell us what you fink."



   **********

   Corinne watched me with interest from the bed.  She had just finished
pumping her breasts when I came back into the room.  "Oh, shit!" she had
said.  "If I'd know you were coming, you could have sucked this lot instead
of me using that that bloody pump.  What's in the bag?"

   "New bra of some sort.  Clit gave it me to try." I unwrapped the plastic
and held the thing up.

   "Nice colour", said Corinne, and I looked at her quizzically.  "Compared
to some of their stuff," she said.  I supposed it was a slight improvement.
Bile-green was a great improvement on diarrhoea-brown.  I held it against
my chest.  Where are the ends?" she asked.

   "God knows.  This is the first time I've seen it.  What's it say on the
bag?"

   The bag bore the usual ScatBra logo, and the legend 'FreeTips', in a
flowery script.  That was all, apart from the size.

   "FreeTips?" Corinne gave a giggle.  "Does that mean what it sounds like?
It looks as if your nips stick out of the ends of the cups!  Golly!  Talk
about peek-a-boo!"

   It looked that way to me as well.  Somehow, I couldn't see this being
the best idea I'd ever heard of.  My nipples were so sensitive, I needed
steel toecaps on the ends of my bra, not my nipples waving around in the
wide blue yonder.  I took my blouse and bra off, and prepared to dangle my
tits into the FreeTips ScatBra.

   "God, it feels really weird!"

   "It looks fantastic, Shannie!"

   I took a look in the mirror.  Fantastic seemed to sum it up fairly well.
The holes in the ends of the cups were about six inches in diameter, so the
whole of my areolae protruded into the fresh air.  The pressure forced them
into a really bizarre, exaggerated shape, and the nipples, already erect,
leaped out like guided missiles.

   "Fuck me," I said in awe.

   "I was just going to," panted Corinne, "come here at once!"

   It took a few more seconds to get my skirt off and I wiggled across to
the bed dressed only in the new bra, my panties and my shoes and stockings.
Quite why I had worn heels this morning, I didn't know, but it seemed a
wise choice now, since it gave me the appearance of an absolute slut.

   "Hello, darling!" I purred huskily, crawling on all fours across the bed
covers.

   "Aaaargh!" said Corinne, clawing at me.  I think she was aroused about
something.  It must have been the milking that turned her on so much.  "I
want one of these," she said, plucking at the straps of the bra.

   "Have this one if you like." I fumbled with the fastenings.

   "I'd never get into it."

   "You could always try.  You might be surprised!"

   Off it came, and my tits flopped to the bed.  The nipples felt like
nothing I had ever felt before.

   "Give me a hand with it, Shan." Corinne sat up and turned her back,
passing the two ends of the band back to me beneath her arms.  She gasped
as I heaved the ends together and attached the heavy duty velcro.  "Bloody
hell, it's tight!" She began to adjust the shoulder straps, the way women
always do.  At last, she peered over her shoulder at me.  "You ready for
this?"

   "Turn round, Cee!  Quick!"

   She turned round slowly.

   "Jeeeeezussssss!" I said.

   Corinne's creamy breasts were compressed into the huge cups.  The
nipples and areolae were being forced out of the holes at the ends like
chocolate cream coming out of an icing bag.  Even the amount that was
protruding was probably far too big for the largest ready made bra you
could go to a store and buy.  And it didn't just protrude, it bulged out,
almost obscenely.

   The flesh left inside the bra was trying to escape by every other
available exit; under the cups in great big crescent moon shaped handfuls;
beneath the arms; and at the top, in the form of a mighty cleavage nine
inches long and who could even begin to guess how deep.

   "It doesn't fit too well," complained Corinne, "but maybe if I could get
one in my size ...?"

   She said no more as my lips fastened on to one of her nipples, engorged
and thrusting.  It seemed to fill my mouth.  I tasted the sweetness of her
milk, a drop or two at first, then a trickle, then a flood.  Our lower
limbs were getting in an unimagineable tangle as we squirmed together in
ecstasy.

   We never even heard the knock on the door, we were making so much noise.
We never even noticed we were no longer alone until something like half an
hour of strenuous loving had passed like a flash.

   I nearly hit the ceiling.

   "Amy!  How long have you been in here?"

   Sexy Amy glanced at her watch.  She was sitting in a chair across the
room, a wad of exercise books held across her chest.  "Twenty minutes," she
said.  "Hey, Miss.  Fantastic bra!  Pity about the size.  Could I get one
like that, do you think?"

   "What did you want, Amy?  You've been told before about coming to the
teachers' quarters."

   "Just some hints, Miss, if you don't mind.  I'm on the pill now, and I
thought I ought to ..."

   "You're what?  You're on the pill?"

   "It's okay.  I saw Nurse.  She says I'm old enough and I'm certainly big
enough.  Hey, you know I used that Reducing Cream?  Dumbest idea I ever
had. Anyway, it wore off, the way it does.  And look!"

   She lowered her exercise books and revealed herself.  She'd certainly
had good value from the Reducing Cream.  Corinne was staring at her, too, a
droplet of milk about to fall from one nipple.  I watched it, mesmerised,
and I was quite disappointed when Corinne scooped it up with a finger and
transferred it to her mouth.  We both gazed at Sexy Amy, who had gone pink.
She was one girl who I thought would have completely forgotten how to
blush.

   "What do you think, Miss?" she said quietly.  "I'd love a bra like Miss
Meadowlark's.  I could really pull the boys with that."

   "Amy, somehow I don't think pulling the boys is going to be a problem."

   "You don't, Miss?  Nurse was saying it's really hard.  She says they
don't take any notice of you.  That's why I'm not wearing a bra.  Do you
think it shows enough, or should I tweak my nips a bit more?  We're going
to town on the bus, Toria and me.  We've got a pass from Miss Thunderbolt."

   "Toria as well?  Has she seen the Nurse, too?"

   "She's over at Sick Quarters seeing her now.  That's why Miss
Thunderbolt's given us both the afternoon off, to get used to being
impregnable.  So anyway, I thought I'd come and see if there were any good
chat-up lines I could try - just to get the boys to look at me."

   I was beginning to feel faint.  We never had this trouble at St Cat's in
the old days.  Perhaps society had changed.  Boys certainly always looked
at me - although perhaps not when I was in the Third Form.

   There was a soft knock on the door.

   "Come in," called Corinne.

   It was Victoria.

   "Tremendous bra, Miss Meadowlark," she enthused, her nipples hardening
instantly into big points.

   Corinne blushed prettily.

   "I'm on the pill, Miss," Victoria said to me, as if to ask what I was
going to do about it.

   "That's great news, Toria.  But you must still take precautions, you
understand.  Remember what you learned in Sex."

   "I've got it all written down, Miss!" Victoria patted her bag
confidently.  "I will get a boyfriend, won't I, Miss?"

   "Well, it's a game of glorious uncertainty, Toria.  If we knew we were
going to score, it would take half the fun out of it, wouldn't it?"

   "No, Miss," she said dangerously.  "You remember what you said?  Wasn't
it that time when I gave you a damned good spanking?"

   Sexy Amy looked at me with sudden interest.

   So did Corinne.

   I blushed with shame and a certain amount of arousal.

   "You said you weren't going to give me huge tits," Victoria continued,
"so I asked you could I have a boyfriend instead, and get fucked absolutely
rigid?"

   "I never promised you that, Toria."

   "Ooooh, you rotten liar, Miss!  You did."

   "I told you not to worry about your breasts, because they'd grow on
their own.  I seem to have been right, don't I?  They're rather huge."

   She sneered unpleasantly.  "Yeah, look at them.  But they're still not
as big as Sexy Amy's.  They're still not as big as my baby sister's.  I
want a boyfriend!"

   "Toria, don't be silly ...  why can't you have some real girl-fun?  Same
as all the others.  You could fuck Amy ...!"

   Sexy Amy licked her lips and nodded eagerly.

   "Oh, you're gross, Miss.  Who wants to fuck a girl?"

   Amy, for a start, I thought.  She was beginning to pant and squeeze her
breasts.  She seemed to be radiating moist heat as she stood there. 
Corinne and I both reached out to her, imploring her to come to bed and
make heaving, shuddering love.

   But not Toria.  She was obviously some kind of sick pervert.  "No,
listen.  A boyfriend, this afternoon, not just a quick shag behind the bus
shelter.  A fulfilling, adult relationship.  I want to move in with
someone. So does Sexy Amy," she added for good measure.

   Sexy Amy opened her mouth to say something, but decided to go with the
flow.

   "Right, Miss?" Toria took her friend by the arm and steered her toward
the door.  "We'll be back on the eight o' clock bus.  I want to be fixed up
by then, or you are in deep shit, okay?"









   Chapter 50:- The Whores of St Cat's



   Corinne and I had hardly got back into our stride again, when there was
another knock on the door.  "Who is it this time," I said, struggling
upright and watching in dismay as Corinne slid off the bed in a top-heavy
sprawl on the rug.  This sort of thing happened all the time with her new
weight distribution.

   She picked herself up and shouted, "Come in!"

   "Megan, hi!" said Corinne, searching for her panties.  Hardly worth
bothering, I thought, but if it made her feel more comfortable, who was I
to stand in her way.  I handed them to her, and Smegs's eyes lit up as the
scrap of sheer silk changed hands.

   "No you can't," I said as Smegs thought about saying something. 
"They're real silk, and far too expensive for you to sell to Japan."

   Smegs shook her head sadly.  "Lovely bra, Corinne!" she said.  "Really
suits you."

   Twenty minutes of hectic romping since the two Third Form girls had
wiggled from the room had made Corinne's bra even less of a perfect fit
than before.  So much of her was bursting out of the peek-a-boo cups that
it was distinctly worrying.  How was she going to get the bra off again?

   Smegs took out a lacy handkerchief and wiped a trace of dribble off her
chin.  The sight of Corinne was affecting her quite deeply.  I realised at
the same time as Smegs that what she was using to wipe herself wasn't a
lacy handkerchief.  "Oh, shit," she exclaimed.  "Young Pam's knickers.  I
hope I haven't diluted her juices too much ..." She sniffed at the little
garment tentatively before tucking it away into the top of her shirt. 
Something seemed to remind of the purpose of her visit.

   "Did you see those two kids earlier?  Toria and Sexy Amy?"

   "What about them?"

   "They seem to have gone to town on the bus.  They went walking up the
drive, wiggling their bottoms about a yard and a half to each side, skirts
up to here, no bras, bloody great tits bouncing about like pineapples, and
nipples the size of champagne corks.  They had a crowd of girls cheering
them on.  You must have heard the noise."

   "No, we were a bit occupied."

   We both watched Corinne, who was sitting on the floor with her back
propped against the bed.  She had raised one of her partly-exposed breasts
to her lips and seemed to be enjoying a drink.  I wondered if this was
cannibalism, or something.

   Smegs removed her hand from up her skirt and pulled herself together
with a supreme effort.  "I bet you were, too.  Anyway, if ever two little
girls were going out to get themselves laid, it was those two.  I hope
you've had a word with them about precautions."

   "Me?  Why me?"

   "They're Thirds.  You're in charge of Third Form welfare.  If they come
back pregnant, you'll be the one who carries the can."

   "They won't come back pregnant.  Well, Toria won't.  She still thinks
you have to sit on boys' faces.  Although Sexy Amy might have read the
textbooks.  But what about Moggie?  She's the one who gave them the pass
and the afternoon off.  She put them on the pill."

   "It's called delegation, Shan.  Moggie makes the higher decisions.  You
get to shoulder the blame.  Still," she turned to go, " I thought I'd
better warn you about girls in your charge behaving like sluts, debasing
the uniform of St Cat's!"

   "They were wearing their school uniforms?"

   "Of course.  I must say, they looked most impressive, too.  Very neat
and well-presented.  Perhaps bras would have kept things a little more
under control, but all round, they did look quite fetching."

   I felt a surge of school pride.  I wished now I had seen those two brave
kids setting off on their great adventure into life's stormy waters.

   "I hope those two kids get screwed absolutely rotten," I said,
fervently. Somehow, it possibly wasn't quite the right thing for their
teacher to say, but I really meant it.



   **********

   Corinne looked troubled.  "Do you think Toria meant that?  About moving
in with a boyfriend?  She can't do that, it would mean leaving St Cat's."

   "I suppose it would, unless she found a boyfriend and had him move in up
at the school.  They could have a little space at one end of the dorm.  The
others could use him when Toria got bored."

   "Shan, you cannot be serious!"

   "I don't see why they shouldn't!  The Seniors have boys in.  At least,
they can do, although it seems they prefer each other, most of them.  I
imagine they realise that they are likely to be stuck with men for better,
for worse, once they leave St Cat's, so they make the most of it while
they're here.  I don't blame them."

   "But a Third Form girl!  Just think if it got out, the way these stories
tend to.  Every television station and every newspaper in the country would
be camped outside."

   "We've had that before.  Smegs would handle them.  She has a way with
the media.  So have I, come to think of it.  No, we'd soon get rid of them.
Not that the word would get out, anyway.  St Cat's is a close little
community.  No girl is going to blow the whistle on Toria.  They all know
which side their bread's buttered."

   I felt my voice fading away.  Just looking at Corinne in that ridiculous
bra with the holes in the ends of the cups was proving too much for me. 
She had got up and gone into the kitchen area to put the kettle on.  She
came back into the bedroom, preceded by the first foot or so of her
breasts.

   "Are you all right, Shannie?" she asked with concern.  "Your mouth seems
to be open.  Tea or coffee?"

   "Milk, please," I murmured.  "Warm, creamy and sweet, spurting into my
mouth, trickling down my chin to drip unheeded on to my naked breasts ..."

   She had gone back into the kitchen.  She emerged again.  "Sorry?  Tea or
coffee, dear?"

   "Oh, what?  Coffee, please.  Very white."

   "Of course, darling!  I wouldn't dream of making it any other way."



   **********

   Victoria had promised me that if she came back on the eight o' clock bus
without being fixed up with a boyfriend, I would be in deep shit.  Victoria
and Sexy Amy didn't come back on the eight o' clock bus, so in a way, I was
off the hook.  Unfortunately, Victoria and Sexy Amy came back from town in
a police car.

   "They were talking to a car driver in Sutcliffe Street, an area
notorious for its low reputation," the nice policewoman told us.  "While
this one was engaging the driver in conversation," the policewoman
indicated Victoria, "the other one was parading up and down on the
footpath, wiggling her bottom.  When I approached and spoke to them, the
car quickly drove off, and this young woman ..." Victoria again "...  swore
at me, saying ..." the woman produced a notebook and read out loud, "... 
blank, you blank blank, you've blanking well scared the blanking blanker
away!"

   "Toria, I am disgusted in you.  A St Cat's girl, in uniform, apart from
the regulation effective brassiere, using language like that to a member of
the police force."

   "Service, Madam," insisted the policewoman.

   "Do what?"

   "It's the police service now, not force.  We don't use force.  We prefer
gentle, insistent pressure."

   I bet she would use gentle insistent pressure, too, I thought.  The
woman's eyes, I had noticed, were resting on Corinne's chest, which despite
being concealed by an extra-huge T-shirt, was still quite ridiculously
eye-catching.  She was still wearing the FreeTips bra underneath.  Things
were on the verge of splitting asunder.

   I continued doggedly.  "You used foul language, Toria.  Do you deny it?"

   "I didn't say all that blankety-blank stuff.  I said she was a fucking
shit, because she'd scared off my new boyfriend."

   "Your what?"

   "He had a BMW, Miss.  Same as Miss Thunderbolt's, only black.  I fancied
him.  He was going to give Sexy Amy and me a lift back to St Cat's, Miss.
Afterwards, that is."

   "After what?" I felt faint.

   "After he'd taken us to McDonald's, Miss.  We were starving, and Sexy
Amy wanted a cheeseburger and regular fries, and I wanted McChicken
McNuggets and a McMilk McThick-Shake.  But this cowbag came along and
screwed everything up."

   "Is this true, constable?" I asked sternly.

   "I don't know about the McChicken bit, but she was certainly soliciting
the attentions of a male person, to whit, a kerb-crawling motorist.  She
had exposed one of her breasts."

   "That was an accident, Miss," Victoria protested.  "I leaned in at the
car window and slipped off the kerb with these fucking fuck-me shoes, and
my tits flopped out.  I caught one, but the other one got away."

   I fixed the policewoman with a baleful glare.  "It's a pity you people
don't spend a bit more time catching criminals, instead of hounding
innocent and unfortunate schoolgirls who are attempting only to keep their
strength up by eating good wholesome food."

   The policewoman backed away a few paces, her mouth open.  "But she was
..."

   "I know what you think she was doing," I stormed.  "You see everything
in terms of filth and smut.  How our poor children can ever hope to
preserve their innocence in the face of such all-pervading sleaze, I do not
know, I really don't!"

   The policewoman was at a loss, but came back strongly.  She wagged a
finger at Sexy Amy.  "What about the other one, prancing up and down like a
tart, wiggling her great big sexy bum in all directions?"

   "If your bosom had grown overnight from the size of yours ..." I pointed
at her inadequate chest with a scornful finger "...  to the size of hers -
literally overnight - *you* would need practice at walking, too.  Those
things are heavy.  You can't just go straight out and walk, you know.  You
people have no idea about the real world out there."

   My tirade was interrupted by a low moan from the bed.  Corinne suddenly
began tearing off her T-shirt.  The FreeTips bra sprang into view, and she
cupped one breast in both hands, running them down toward the nipple.  The
policewoman screamed and backed away to the door.

   Sexy Amy gave out a growl of pure lust and sprang on to the bed. 
"Please, Miss, please let me suck!" she cried, in a voice dripping with
lasciviousness.

   The door slammed.

   "Where's she gone?" Victoria asked, surprised.

   "Back to the police canteen for sausage rolls and sticky buns, I
imagine." I was still quivering with rage.

   Victoria came up to me and threw her arms round my neck.  Her nipples
telescoped intriguingly against the upper slopes of my chest.  Her soft
lips, slightly open, met mine with all the subtlety of a sink plunger.

   "Thanks, Miss!  You were great.  A pity you couldn't get me a proper
boyfriend, but matey-boy with the BMW was a bit ancient.  He must have been
thirty!  I'll know better next time.  I'll try and pick up something in an
Escort." She planted another kiss on my lips and rubbed herself
suggestively against me.  I hoped Victoria wasn't going to turn into a
slut.

   "Come on, Amy," she whined.  "That cow wouldn't stop at the fish n' chip
shop on the way back.  I'm starving.  And you've got that packet of Hobnobs
in your locker.  Come on, we can get a drink off one of the girls in the
dorm!  Or maybe we'll call on the Juniors and have a suck of Shona.  She's
got enough for both of us."

   Amy reluctantly slipped her lips off Corinne's breast, and wiped the
surplus off her chin with a finger.  She looked with longing at the
torpedo-shaped monsters peering out of the FreeTips bra, patted them gently
in farewell, and crawled off the bed.

   She kissed me on the mouth, and I tasted Corinne's milk.

   "Thanks, Miss.  For standing up for us and everything.  You did great.
That's why all the girls love you, Miss.  Any time you need a fuck, Miss,
come to the Thirds' dorm.  Make it after midnight, if you can, when we've
got rid of the Fourth Formers and stuff."

   The two girls left, remembering to wiggle as they waved over their
shoulders and closed the door behind them.

   "Wow!" Corinne lay back against the pillow.  "I hope you won't be taking
Sexy Amy up on her kind offer, Shannie." She grinned and beckoned me lewdly
over to the bed.

   "Well, I would be tempted.  How about both of us going one night.  It's
a standing invitation, after all."

   "Just you dare!"



   **********

   "Sho!  Put the lights out, someone's coming!" Suzanne pulled the sheets
up to her nose and began snoring unconvincingly.  The others joined in. 
The dorm sounded like a particularly vulgar pigsty.

   The lights went off just as Victoria and Sexy Amy blundered into the
dorm.  Victoria stopped dead and Sexy Amy's breasts squished against her
back like a couple of sacks of low-fat spread.

   "You can get your tits out of my arse, too, you horny little slag,"
hissed Victoria, a trifle judgementally.  "All the way back here in the cop
car you were trying to get off with me.  You want a bucket of cold water
over you, that's what you want."

   "It was your fault, stopping suddenly like that.  We big girls can't
stop on a five-pence piece, you know."

   They resumed their faltering progress into the dorm, and Victoria
fumbled her way to her sister's bed.

   "Eeeek!" squeaked Pansy, surprised while masturbating.  "Who's that?"

   "Me.  Toria.  And Amy.  We came for a drink."

   "It's no good coming to me, is it?" The girls continued their
conversation in fierce whispers.

   "We were looking for Shona."

   "Shona's just been milked.  There might be some left in her bucket, if
you're lucky."

   "Where's her bucket?"

   "At the end of her bed.  You can't miss it."

   A clang of stainless steel confirmed that beyond all possible doubt. 
Curses echoed through the dorm, mingled with muffled thumps and metallic
noises.

   "What the fuck ...?

   A bedside lamp came on, and blinking faces peered out of musky
bedclothes to see the cause of the disturbance.  The glow of the light
revealed Sexy Amy with her foot wedged in a stainless steel bucket.  She
was stomping around, trying to get free.  Milk slopped over the rim of the
bucket.  There was obviously more left than Pansy had estimated.

   "Get me out of here," pleaded Sexy Amy, hobbling up and down: thump,
clank, thump, clank.

   "You daft shit.  Look what you've done!" Victoria was livid.  "How can
we drink that stuff now you've had your sweaty foot in it."

   "My foot's clean," hissed Sexy Amy.  "Not like your great hairy pussy."

   "What's my pussy got to do with it?"

   "It's where you keep your brain, shit-face.  I wish you'd been arrested
for prostitution tonight.  It would have served you right!"

   "It was you that dangled your keys on a chain, not me.  All I did was
chat him up and lob one of my tits in through his car window."

   The First Form girls gazed from one to the other, following every turn
of the conversation.

   "And now you've polluted the milk," ended Victoria, crushingly.

   "I'm going to drink it, anyway," insisted Amy.  "If someone will help me
get out of here." She shook her foot vigorously and the bucket finally let
go.  It skittered several yards across the floor and ended upside down.

   "Now nobody's having any," said Suzanne.  "Do you two mind if we get
some sleep?  We've got a busy day tomorrow, it's our first attempt at
mixing the new FatLite."









   Chapter 51:- Steam And Lube



   Several days had passed since the Whores of St Cat's made their debut in
the town.  No further action was taken by the policewoman, although we did
receive a visit from a rather smart young man in a sharkskin suit and a
Mercedes.  Not really my type, a bit common, a bit too sharp.  He
introduced himself as Hercules Raleigh, or something, and from what we
could gather, his interests included a number of young ladies who were no
better than they needed to be.  These ladies earned money, which enabled
them to buy certain substances, which he provided at a reasonable discount.
It seemed like a profitable business, and I said so, and he got quite
cross.

   Luckily, Smegs had spotted his car outside, and called for Maurice and
the boys, who persuaded Mr Raleigh to leave the premises.  They made it
clear he would not be welcome here again.

   I suppose everyone is waiting for me to mention whether Mr Raleigh was
white or black, but I honestly can't remember.  The light wasn't very good.
Does it really make any difference?  Tell you what, let's say he was white,
shall we?  That will make *everyone* happy.  Maurice and the boys are
black, by the way, but that's neither here nor there.

   Anyway, enough of the light political satire, several days had passed.
The girls who had been treated with reducing cream grew to their maximum
size and stabilised.  They were fitted out in brand new ScatBras, and felt
instantly happier about the whole business.  One or two went into milk
production but kept it amongst their immediate circle of friends.

   Corinne got her own FreeTips ScatBra, in a more appropriate size, and
presented the old one back to me.  It was totally useless, the holes in the
ends of the cups stretched to such a ridiculous size that my breasts
immediately worked their way out of them and ended up at full dangle. 
Angrily, I threw the bra away in the used bra skip that had been parked
outside the bra measurement facility, and was interested to see a number of
topless Lower Sixth Formers fighting over it.  Still, it was a warm
afternoon, so they wouldn't come to much harm, I thought.

   I watched the grim struggle from the bedroom window, and Corinne came
over to watch with me.  The eventual winner was a girl whose breasts, while
not quite up to my standard in sheer bulk, were far less dangly.  She
punched her weight to beat off the opposition, and bore the bra away in
triumph.  In a quiet corner, thinking she was unobserved, she loaded
herself into it, and Corinne agreed with me that it suited her.

   We had a quick fuck to celebrate her good fortune.

   Meanwhile, the First Form Sexual Chemistry Group had been working flat
out on FatLite.  At least, two of them had.  Anastasia and Shona were fully
occupied with making up samples of Lube.  They weren't doing anything to
improve the formula, but they must have made a hundred batches of the
stuff. As clouds of the horny Steam billowed around the lab, girls
contorted themselves willingly to persuade the stuff up their skirts, and
fought good-naturedly for a finger full of the slimy residue which brought
them such remarkable pleasure between their creamy thighs.

   The Sexual Chemistry Laboratory was not a quiet place at all.

   Suzanne and Pansy complained to me.

   "How can we get on with the FatLite formula with all this coming going
on in here," whined Suzanne.  "Every five minutes, there's another batch of
Steam.  It's too disturbing."

   "And we have to keep interrupting our work to grab another finger full
of Lube," added Pansy.

   "I understand fully, kids," I said, understandingly.  And I did
understand.  Lube and Steam were truly compelling.  It was as well Corinne
had never discovered them or she would have been insatiable.  "The best
thing is to let them get on with it.  They'll run out of the vital
ingredients before long."

   "I don't think so," said Suzanne.  "There was a delivery yesterday.  Two
forty-five gallon drums and a whole truck-load of sacks.  I think Anastasia
has managed to persuade Jeremy to order in bulk."

   "I hate to think how she did that," I said, half to myself.

   "She fucked him," asserted Pansy.  "She told me.  Thirty-seven times in
an hour."

   "She did?" I didn't feel inclined to ask how Anastasia had accounted for
the thirty-seven times, nor how she managed to keep count.  "Perhaps she's
exaggerating," I said, with little hope.  "Anyway, with all these
interruptions, how have you got on with the FatLite?"

   "We've managed to get a cream that is absorbed when you rub it in."
Pansy flipped over several pages of her notes.  "It's the same as the
reducing cream, without the active ingredient that makes you shrink."

   "Or grow," said Suzanne.

   "The next thing was the agent that turns fat into something lighter.  We
persuaded Maurice and the boys to break into a suet and cooking fat factory
laboratory and photocopy some documents for us."

   "How did you persuade them to ..." I started to ask her, but Pansy's
face took on a closed expression, so I thought better of it.

   "We've got it working on a rabbit," said Suzanne.  "Come and have a
look!"

   She led the way through into a store room, normally kept padlocked.  A
fat rabbit sat in a cage, doing what rabbits do.  Its fur was matted and
greasy, but it looked happy.

   "There," said Pansy.  "Meet Chauntaille."

   "That's an unusual name," I said.

   "We couldn't think of anything else to call her," lied Suzanne.  "Go on,
pick her up, Miss."

   I took Chauntaille by the ears and slipped my hand beneath her plump
bottom.  She weighed practically nothing.

   "The grease on her fur is the cream, it won't be a problem with girls,
Miss," Pansy assured me.  "Well, maybe some of the hairier ones."

   "How long did it take to get her like this?"

   "Three days, rubbing her every day and every night." Suzanne looked
earnestly up at me.  "See, you said not to make it too strong, Miss."

   "It looks very promising, I must say." I put Chauntaille down on the
floor of her cage.  She took a pace or two forward, then tried a little
bunny hop.

   "That's the major problem so far," admitted Pansy, sadly, as Chauntaille
flopped to the floor of the cage, having banged her head resoundingly on
the roof.  She blinked and wrinkled her nose as she looked about her in
confusion.

   "We reckon she'd be able to jump as high as the ceiling in the lab, if
we let her out," said Suzanne.

   "Or into the dorm windows from outside."

   "It only lightens fat, though," I asked anxiously.

   "Chauntaille's a very fat rabbit.  We fed her on all sorts of things to
get her up to this size.  Miss?"

   "Yes, Suzanne?" I think I knew what was coming.

   "When can we try it on a human, Miss?  We'll have to sometime, won't
we?"

   "I suppose so.  Just a little bit.  One application, no more, then we'll
study her for a few days before we do anything further.  We weigh the human
before and after, over several days, and we take measurements and
photographs at each stage.  Understand?"

   "Yes, Miss," said the girls in happy chorus.

   "Right, then, who are you going to use?"

   "Well, we can't use Shona or Anastasia, 'cos they're our friends ..."

   "...  and anyway, they're working on Steam and Lube."

   "So we thought someone not in this class ..."

   "...  but with enormous tits that are ever so heavy ..."

   "...  and she's be ever so grateful to us ..."

   "...  so we thought, it worked on Chauntaille the rabbit, so why
shouldn't it work on ..."

   "No!  Pansy.  Suzanne.  You are not trying it out on me!"

   "No, Miss!" Pansy screwed up her nose in that young girl scornful
expression.  "Not you!  We're going to use Miss Meadowlark!"



   **********

   They left it to me to break the news to Corinne.  I couldn't do it. 
Days passed, and we went about our work by day and our loving by night.  I
just could not do it!

   Over beside the bra measuring facility, a strange new portable building
had appeared, like a shed with no windows, and a short fat chimney.  Only
after I had failed to see Anastasia and Shona around the place for a couple
of days did I realise that they were engaged in setting up some heavy-duty
apparatus to produce Lube on a commercial scale.  And Steam, of course.

   A balcony appeared on the flat roof of the building, with a stout
handrail all round.  And on the morning when the little factory went into
production, a line of eager girls stretched all the way round the main
school building and tailed off into the quadrangle.  The line led up the
steps to the balcony, so the next fifty or so girls could watch the fun as
each batch of lucky participants stood in anticipation beside the fat
little chimney, hoisting their skirts and lowering their panties.

   Out gushed the Steam, lapping heavily around the loins of the panting,
moaning girls, spilling over and trickling down to ground level, where the
next few in the queue might, if they were in the right place, catch a
gratuitous orgasm before their turn came in earnest.

   Meanwhile, down in the shed, Anastasia and Shona were testing each batch
and growing more and more horny with each testing.  They didn't seem to
notice that the effects were cumulative.  By lunchtime, when Moggie finally
reached the head of the queue and took her democratic turn with the rest of
the girls, Anastasia was nowhere to be found.

   Moggie closed the factory for the day - or as she said, until further
notice - as soon as she'd had her turn.  A howl of dismay went up from two
hundred deep and yearning throats.

   Smegs was livid.  She had been twenty places behind Moggie.  She stormed
up to the staff living quarters and banged on our door.

   "It's not that so much.  I can get off any time.  But we had doubled our
pantie throughput.  I collected three full sacks, and they weighed a ton,
they were so wet!" She sniffed like a dog.  "Did you get any Steam, either
of you?"

   "No, we were in bed," Corinne admitted, blushing so captivatingly I was
forced to apply my lips to one of her nipples again.

   "So you won't have seen Anastasia, then?"

   "No, what's happened to her?"

   "Nobody knows," said Smegs.  "She's disappeared.  Shona was going
frantic, milk pouring out of her and both hands up her skirt.  Criminal
waste of juices, she wasn't wearing any panties.  I told her off about it,
and all she could do was burst into tears, the fat bitch."

   "But Anastasia has disappeared." Sometimes Smegs needs leading back to
the subject at hand.  "The poor kid.  She needs a helping hand."

   "She'll get a helping hand if I catch her," growled Smegs, "especially
if she's not wearing any panties."

   "No, listen.  She's been very horny lately.  I think Anastasia has gone
out in search of a good fuck!"



   **********

   We tried the obvious places: the caretaker's shed, the Senior
dormitories.  No sign of Anastasia anywhere.  Her clothes were still in her
wardrobe.  Not that she really had anything but her school things anyway.

   I called the police service.

   "Not another one of your whores on the loose," wailed the policewoman
who answered the phone.  "Find the slut yourselves!" The line went dead. 
No help from that quarter, then.  Corinne suggested looking up Sex Slave
Dealers in the Yellow Pages, which I thought was a suggestion unworthy of
her.  She looked anyway, and all it said was 'see Harem Requisites'.

   And that was where we struck gold.

   There were only two entries under Harem Requisites.  One was for a firm
of Kissagram Dealers, advertising Naughty Nurses, Virgin Vergers, Cheeky
Cheerleaders and Saucy Schoolgirls.  No, they hadn't seen anyone answering
Anastasia's description, not this morning, nor any other time.  Could I
repeat those vital statistics again, please?  I did, and there was the
sound of someone writing them down at the other end of the line,
accompanied by the unmistakeable shuffling rhythm of male masturbation.  I
explained that, yes, she was real, not silicone, not latex, and the gasping
voice promised to call me back if Anastasia appeared at his door.

   I thanked him politely, and said that if he ever needed the services of
a Perverted Policewoman, to try this number.  And I gave him the number of
the local nick.

   Corinne was still poring over the Yellow Pages.

   "Where's this place?" she said.

   I looked over her shoulder, and she lifted one breast slightly to one
side so I could see the page.

   "East Longshott Down?  About thirty miles North of here.  An hour by
car. Why?  What does it say?"

   "Well, there's just the one line with the number; it says 'Toots
Services'.  But over on the next page," Corinne moved her other breast out
of the way and tapped her fingernail on a boxed display ad.  "What do you
make of that?"







   Toots Services [proprietor - Tessa Lashmore]

   Longshott Down 761626

   Harem suppliers to His Excellency the Pasha Mandingo of Cantelopia

   Mammoth breasts a speciality

   Horny young girls always required

   Must be clean and ready for immediate use





   "Wow!" I said.  "You think there is such a place?"

   "What, East Longshott Down, or Cantelopia?"

   "Either." I tapped out the number and listened for a while to the
answering machine.  "Wow!" I said again as I put the phone down.

   "What did it say," Corinne wanted to know.

   "It said, and I will not attempt the accent, 'Oah, hyyy!  Dis is
Langshatt seventy-six, sixteen, twentysix, Toots speakin, whaddya know,
man? I's out fuckin right now, but you leave de message after she tone, an
I get baack to you.  Later, okay?'"

   "How wise of you not to attempt the accent," said Corinne.  "Well, what
do you think, Shan?"

   "Let's get Jeremy.  I think we've got to get ourselves up to this place.
I'm afraid I've got a funny feeling about it."









   Part XVIII









   Chapter 52:- A Girl Called Toots



   Smegs wanted to come as well.  Corinne and I squeezed ourselves into the
back of the Jaguar, Smegs stretched her long legs out in front with Jeremy;
and we slid out of the school grounds and set off for Longshott Down.

   I don't know what we expected to find when we got there.  "It seems a
strange place for a set-up like this," I said for the umpteenth time. 
"Right out in the countryside, dealing in mammoth-breasted harem girls. 
And this Toots, if that's her name, Tessa Lashmore, sounded weird.  A
really young voice, like a ten-year-old.  And West Indian.  Sort of a
Caribbean voice."

   "We'll find out soon enough," said Corinne.  "Although why we're all
trailing out here on a wild-goose chase is anyone's guess.  We've no reason
to suppose that Anastasia has gone there.  None at all apart from your
intuition."

   "It's a very strong intuition," I said stubbornly.  "And if Anastasia
turns up anywhere else, they'll call us on the car-phone and we can go
back. Although I must confess, I wouldn't mind a look at this Toots and her
sex slave business."

   I was sure that was why the others had come along, as well.  Corinne out
of sheer curiosity, but Smegs because there might be a business opportunity
in it.  I imagined it: St Cat's Slavers, The One-Stop Shop For All Your
Harem Needs.

   Meanwhile, there was nothing to do but wait until we arrived.  We hadn't
even left a message with Toots.  She might have been out fucking for the
rest of the week, for all we knew.  But I still had a funny feeling Toots
might know where our little Anastasia had disappeared to.



   **********

   The lab was almost silent.  A couple of groups of girls worked away in a
jaded manner.  Darren sat at the desk playing with a hand-held game that
gave off beeps and whistles and played an infuriating tune every time he
lost.

   Shona sat with her head in her hands.  The effects of the
thirty-something doses of Lube she had applied to herself (working entirely
by feel) had worn off, leaving her feeling numbed and sick.  Anastasia had
disappeared without a word.  Shona was watching Suzanne and Pansy as they
mixed another batch of the stuff they referred to as FatLite.  Every so
often, one or both of them would disappear into the store room.  Shona was
beginning to hate Sexual Chemistry with a deep loathing.  Her Mum was
certainly going to kill her, although she couldn't think of a valid reason
at the moment.

   "Nearly ready, Suze," whispered Pansy, concentrating hard with her
tongue out of the side of her mouth.

   "Ready when you are," said Suzanne, holding out a beaker.  The mixture
glugged into the beaker like green treacle and settled at the bottom,
bubbling gently to itself.

   "C'mere, Shona," called Pansy.  "Time for the vital ingredient."

   Shona rose from her seat dumbly, and wandered over to the workbench. 
She hoped this would be the last time today.  It was nearly four o' clock.
She unbuttoned her blouse and opened the snap of her right bra cup.  A fat,
brown, turgid nipple, almost two inches long and the best part of
three-quarters of an inch thick, peeped out.  There was already a driblet
of milk at its tip.  With a heavy sigh, Shona directed herself to the
beaker.

   "That's enough, Sho, thanks!" Pansy patted Shona's breast in gratitude
and watched as the big girl put herself away.  "You're sure they're not
still getting bigger?" she asked in genuine concern.

   "I don't really care all that much.  Mum will be killing me anyway."

   Suzanne stirred the milk into the treacle, watching as the mixture
turned yellow, then returned the beaker to the heat for a few seconds.

   "That's it.  Leave it to cool and it will be ready to use in the
morning. I'll go and put Chauntaille to bed."

   "What's she mean?" Shona was interested despite herself.  The existence
of Chauntaille the rabbit was a closely guarded secret.

   "Oh, nothing," said Pansy.  "I think she's gone to adjust her bra,
that's just her silly name for it."

   "Stupid name," agreed Shona.  "Why's she need to hide just to do her
bra?"

   "Maybe she doesn't want to excite Darren."

   Suzanne returned.  "All buttoned up," she said.  "Who's for tea?  I'm
starving."

   "I don't know how you can think of food when our bestest friend is out
there getting raped," Shona moaned.

   Suzanne put an arm round her big friend.  It didn't go very far round.
"They'll find her, Sho, don't worry.  Anastasia's a clever girl, she won't
get into trouble.  And they said Rumiko and a load of her martial arts
girls are searching the woods.  She'll be all right." Suzanne led the way
to the door, Shona lumbering along in the rear.

   "Wait for me," she complained, as her breasts rumbled and bounced off
the furniture.  The others helped her load them into her wheelbarrow.  At
least, she still had two friends.



   **********

   "There's a signpost," said Smegs, and the Jaguar slowed.  "It says
Longshott Industrial Park.  Let's see what that list of names says."

   It included the usual assortment of car body repairs, computer power
supply suppliers, Anywair Couriers, pet foods in bulk, the KwiqNTaystee
cafe and at the bottom, Toots Services.

   "Unit 24a," Smegs pointed the way.

   Unit 24a was the same as all the others, apart from the name on the
front, a large white plastic sign, with an artist's impression of an
improbably endowed girl, and the name Toots Services.  Someone's idea of an
original touch was to paint nipples in each letter 'O' of 'Toots'.  It
looked strangely obscene.  It also looked ominously quiet.  Smegs and
Jeremy got out and rattled the door handle.  They peered through the
window.

   "Come on," said Corinne, "let's have a look as well.  I need a stretch."
We struggled out and walked slowly over to the deserted building,
stretching our cramped limbs and rubbing our numb boobs.  We could see
faces staring out of adjacent buildings.

   "Nobody about," Smegs came over shaking her head.  "No lights inside. 
Looks like a wasted journey."

   "I wonder if this bloke knows anything," I had spotted an old boy on a
bike in a flat cap and raincoat.  He wobbled as he came closer and caught
sight of Corinne and me.  "Excuse me ..."

   The bicycle came to a halt and the bloke almost fell off.  He had
forgotten to put his foot on the ground.  Smegs caught him and held the
saddle like one of those people who hold the riders upright at the
beginning of sprint races.

   "We were wondering if there was anyone at this place."

   "What, young Toots?  Nah, she'll be out fuckin'!  Whass toime?  Half
foive?  She'll be back any minute now.  Hang around.  She's got to come
back, that there's her motor."

   He indicated a brilliant yellow sports car down a side alley.  "That's
hers," he said, "she bought that six months after she opened this place.  I
dunno what she does, apart from fuck, and there can't be much money in
that."

   Smegs nodded in agreement.  We watched as he pedalled off, navigated the
corner of the street and turned on to the main road.  There was a squeal of
brakes and a tinny crash.  Shortly afterwards, a sleek multi-purpose
vehicle with darkened windows swung up the street and turned in to the side
alley.  It stopped, and there was a pause of almost a minute before the
passenger door slid open.  Immediately, the big vehicle - what do they call
them, like a van with windows - surged away round the back of the building,
spun round arrogantly and swooshed past us, heading off down the road.

   Not that we really noticed the van.  Our eyes were all riveted on a
diminutive figure standing beside the yellow sports car.

   "Scuse me," it said.  "You waitin' for me?  I's Toots!"



   **********

   "Let's just call in to Miss Thunderbolt's office on the way to tea,"
said Suzanne.  "Just to see if there's any news of Anastasia."

   The cousins left Shona parked with her barrow in the corridor and
hurried up the stairs.  They arrived at the top, breathless and trying to
hold their bosoms still with both hands.

   There was no news, Miss Labia told them, but police were searching
everywhere, questioning all the usual Sex Slave Dealers and dragging every
lake, river and canal in the county.  They would find her mutilated and
despoiled body soon.  Miss Labia was always positive about such things.

   "We'll be over in the restaurant having our tea if there's any news,"
said Suzanne.



   **********

   We gazed at Toots in utter disbelief.  I use the term advisedly.  At St
Cat's, we have seen most things, but Toots was something else entirely.

   She saw our expressions and invited us inside.  The office was sparsely
furnished.  On the thickly-carpeted floor was a modern-looking desk with a
computer and no papers at all.  The walls were hung with an assortment of
24" by 20" photographs of girls in harem costume.  Without exception, all
were spectacularly developed, many of them well up to and beyond the
minimum St Cat's standard.  Pride of place, hung centrally on the wall
beside a huge brass bed, was a three feet square colour shot of Toots
herself, dressed only in harem pants.  In the picture, she stood arrogantly
with her hands on hips, thrusting herself at the camera.

   It was obviously her favourite pose.  She stood like it and looked
around at us.

   "You some big gals," she said at last.  "Even dat one!" Smegs glowered
at her.  "Dese all yours?" she asked Jeremy.

   "Me?" he squeaked.  "Mine?  Shit, no!"

   "We'd better introduce ourselves," I said.  "I'm Chauntaille
Gruntworthy, this is Megan Mountains, this is Corinne Meadowlark, and this
is Jeremy, our driver." Jeremy made no objection, and Toots gave a little
bow in the direction of each of us as I mentioned the names.  Each little
bow she gave caused her phenomenal breasts to bounce downward until they
struck her knees, then they rebounded upwards again.  She was wearing a
bra, but it was less than effective.

   Her blouse was obviously custom made for her, in turquoise silk, which
certainly set off her rich chocolate skin.  What we could see of her below
the waist was encased in a pair of shocking pink stretch pants, reaching
down to mid-calf.  Her legs were muscular.  They would be, carrying that
lot around all day.  She had kicked off her shoes as soon as we had come
in, and she was no more than four feet six tall.

   Toots undulated over to the desk, her rear view revealing a tiny but
supremely well-shaped bottom and a miniscule waist, cinched by a bright
yellow belt, which needless to say was not visible from the front.  She
perched herself on the edge of the desk, her legs swinging some way short
of the floor.  There was no chair.  Presumably she did all her typing
standing up.

   "Where you all from?  I ain' seen you roun' here before?"

   "We're from St Cat's," I said.  "St Catherine's High School for Girls."

   "St Cat's!" Toots yelped with delight and her breasts bounced wildly. 
"Dat's great.  My Auntie Mom's gonna send me dere after the summer
holidays. We filled in all the forms.  Miss Thunderbolt," she said after a
brief silence.  "Stoopid name!"

   "Some people think so," I agreed.  "But you mean you're going to St
Cat's to school?  Yet you're running a business here?  How young are you? I
mean, how old?"

   "Auntie Mom says I gotta go to school.  I left the school in the
village. Dey sling me out for fuckin' all the time.  So I set up dis place.
Just to make a few quid.  I bought de car, and the van thing."

   "But how old are you?"

   "Ten.  Nearly eleven.  I'm old enough," she assured us.

   "But you drive that car?"

   Toots giggled and everything shuddered wildly.  "Me?  Drive a car.  Wid
dese tings?  You crazy?  I got a chauffeur.  He's okay, but we don't fuck."

   She looked significantly from me to Jeremy, and I blushed deeply.  The
girl must have psychic powers.

   "Anyway, you lucky to catch me.  I was gonna leave the car here for
Nigel to take home tonight.  But when we knocked that guy off his bike out
there on the road; jus' before he passed out, he said there was some gals
here to see me.  Gals wid fuckin' great tits, he says.  So we came up here.
Ah ..."

   A thought came to her suddenly, and she picked up the phone.  We stood
politely as she asked for an ambulance to pick up an accident victim from
the road outside Longshott Down Industrial Park.

   "Hey," she said, as she slammed the phone down on its rest.  I knew I
remembered St Cat's for somefink else.  I had a call today from a girl. 
Anastasia something?"

   "You did?" We all leaned forward eagerly.

   "You know dis chick?"

   "It's why we came up here.  She ran away and disappeared from school. 
What did she want?  Is she coming to see you?"

   "She sure is.  Later tonight.  The van is pickin' her up and deliverin'
her to my Auntie Mom's place.  She give me her stats." Toots tugged a piece
of crumpled paper from somewhere in her tight pants.  "Are dese numbers
right?" She handed me the paper.  I nodded and gave it back to her.

   "Shit, she's nearly as big as me!" The tiny black girl looked down at
her twin pumpkins in disbelief.  "We'll get thousands for that one out in
Cantelopia.  I'll buy another car ..."

   "Toots," I said.  "May I call you Toots?"

   "S'my name," she said agreeably.

   "Toots.  Anastasia can't be sold to a Pasha.  She's an English
schoolgirl.  Her mother has paid for her to be educated at St Cat's.  You
can't take her and sell her, just like that!"

   "Why not?" Toots was genuinely surprised.

   "'Cos not!  I'm afraid Anastasia is going to have to come back to St
Cat's with us."

   Toots studied her fingers.  The nails were at least two inches long. 
"You pay me for her?"

   "No!  She's not yours to sell."

   The logic of this was beyond Toots.  She furrowed her brow and shook her
head.  "But she give herself to me, to sell.  I'll lose thousands on this."

   "Toots.  No!"

   "Oh, shit!  Where else, apart from my step-sister, am I ever gonna find
another girl wid more than sixty-inch titties?  Tell me that!"

   How could I not tell her, after that?  She was coming to St Cat's in the
Autumn Term, she'd find out anyway.









   Chapter 53:- Anastasia Gets A Surprise



   Back at Toots's house, we made a phone call to Moggie.  Dismiss the
police, their dogs, and frogmen, we told her, bring Rumiko and her martial
artistes back from the woods.  For the lamb which was lost is found.

   Mrs Lashmore was ever so sweet.  "Call me Dawn," she said, as soon as
Toots showed us in and introduced us to her Auntie Mom.  And while we
waited for Anastasia to arrive - Toots had arranged to have her picked up
from a motorway service station - Dawn told the incredible tale of how her
entire family had been kidnapped, along with their friend Candi.  How they
had escaped; not bringing Candi with them, but somehow having collected
Toots along the way; and how Candi had finally been rescued months later.

   We listened, horrified and spellbound.

   "So, Toots was made the way she is by the Pasha's experiments, that's
how she got her huge breasts?" I said.

   Dawn looked at the three of us girls with amusement before answering. 
"Those, and her sex drive, too, unfortunately.  It made her effectively
insatiable.  Which is an embarrassment in a small town where everyone knows
everyone else.  She started off by selling herself to all comers, but we
managed to get it under control after a few months.  Relatively.  She still
does it for all her friends and she doesn't have an enemy in the world. 
This business she set up with her ill-gotten gains without us knowing, but
I suppose it keeps her off the streets.  Literally.  The doctors have been
marvellous with her, but they say they can't do anything about her bust
until she stops growing.  She's still getting taller: she was only about
four feet one when we got her, but she's five inches taller now.  Trouble
is, her bust is keeping pace with her height.  Like it's always a couple of
feet bigger than she is tall!  It could be another seven or eight years
before they can reduce her breasts.  And that's if she'll let them!  But
it's amazing that you should be from St Cat's, especially since I have
arranged to send her there!  Just one thing.  How will a prim and proper
girls' school like St Cat's cope with a vast-breasted not quite
eleven-year-old slut dropping in on them?"

   Dawn sat and wondered why we all fell about laughing.

   "I don't know if we ought to tell you this, Dawn," I said, "but Toots is
going to fit in far better than you imagine.  Look at me, and even Corinne.
We're not the biggest-breasted women at St Cat's, not by a long way.  There
are girls giving milk by the gallon, there are others getting bigger at an
inch a month, dozens of those, and there are one or two whose sex drive is
on the high side of normal.  They'll welcome Toots with open arms!"

   "And open legs," growled Smegs, speaking for the first time.

   "I'll give you a tip, though," I leaned forward conspiratorially, and
was surprised to see the others do the same.  Even Dawn did.  "Tell the
school she's an overseas student.  Say she's from Jamaica, or Timbuctoo, or
somewhere.  That way, you'll get free ScatBras, like ours, and free blouses
up to a hundred inch bust."

   "Eighty," Smegs corrected me.  "Moggie reduced the upper big girl's
blouse threshold to eighty inches to save funds."

   "Sorry!  Eighty inches.  It should see Toots all right for a month or
two anyway.  Don't take no for an answer, Dawn.  Moggie, Miss Thunderbolt,
will try and claim that because Toots speaks English, that she *is* English
and doesn't qualify.  Don't listen to her.  Stand up for your rights."

   "I shall," said Dawn, surprised.  "I must say, St Cat's sounds a most
unusual school."

   "Unusual?  How do you mean?"



   **********

   There were voices out in the passage by the front door.  A deep male
voice, that sounded like Toots's driver, Nigel.  And Toots's excited
babble. And the cultured St Cat's tones of Anastasia.  We sat and waited,
then the drawing room door opened and Toots squeezed through.

   "Here she is Miz, Chauntaille, yo' runaway girl!"

   She stood aside and let Anastasia see us.  The poor girl's face was such
a jumble of emotions I felt sorry for her instantly.  I was all prepared to
give her a real mouthful of abuse for causing all this trouble, all the
police searching for her, she'd be in all the evening papers by now, and on
the television news.  But she looked so helpless and crumpled, I held out
my arms to her and she came to me, bursting into tears and howling on my
shoulder.  I looked over Anastasia's head and met Dawn's look.  Her eyes
were wet, too, and so were mine.  I looked at Toots, and even she was
wiping her face with a lime green silk hankie.  Probably mourning the loss
of her thousands of pounds.

   Corinne was sobbing into the skirt of her dress, Jeremy was looking very
hard at his shoes and Smegs was blowing her nose in a decisive manner.

   "Have you got an old towel, Dawn?" Corinne asked urgently.  "I'm
starting to leak."

   "Leak?  You mean MILK?" said Dawn, getting up in mild panic.

   "Make it two towels, if you could, please," said Corinne, "I'm getting
wet down below as well!"

   I could see Smegs looking sharply at me, and I knew what she was
thinking.  I had to hold on to my chair with both hands or I would have
been climbing all over Corinne even before Dawn had left the room.  As it
was, when she came back, clutching a heap of fluffy bath towels, she was
just in time to see me sitting down in my own chair again.  Corinne was
looking deeply flushed and tousled and Smegs was examining her fingernails.

   Anastasia was well used to such behaviour from her teaching staff, as
was Jeremy, but Toots was clearly interested and aroused.  A pair of
improbably spiky nipples were sticking out through the turquoise silk,
pointing outwards at forty-five degrees.  Anastasia examined them with
interest, rubbing the palms of her hands experimentally across the sheer
silk.  It was doing amazing things to Toots, who began to howl like a wolf
on heat.

   "Anastasia, would you mind not exciting Toots like that," I admonished
her.  "Sorry, Miss," she said glumly, and we all started crying again,
while Corinne moaned softly and did things in her nest of towels.  Toots
carried on howling for some time, but gradually the noise died away and we
could hear ourselves think at last.  If that was the sort of thing that was
going to happen in next year's First Form dormitory, I thought, we'd better
get some sound-proofing built in.  More expense for Moggie.

   "I had hoped you'd be able to see the rest of the family," Dawn said,
"but you know how it is with youngsters.  They get round their friends'
houses playing and watching videos, and you never see them for hours."

   "Kids!  Tell me about it, "I said.

   "Piers is playing football, although he shouldn't really.  At school,
he's excused shorts!  His ..." Dawn dropped her voice and we all pricked up
our ears.  "...  his ...  willie ...  grew while he was in the harem!"

   Corinne's eyes became saucers.  Smegs was dribbling.  Jeremy looked
deeply embarrassed.  Toots was giggling girlishly and Anastasia was
mercifully asleep.  She'd had a long day, bless her.

   "The girls were a bit strange.  Lucinda grew enormous.  Tiny waist, only
about twenty-two, and a big bottom, and her bust is bigger than Toots's."
Dawn looked at the three of us St Cat's teachers.  Not as big as you two,
but much bigger than you, Megan!"

   Smegs looked daggers at her, but Dawn didn't seem to notice.

   "But our Caro, she didn't grow at all.  They captured her then she was
sold to the chief of police, who liked his girls big, apparently, but
didn't know how to make them bigger.  So Caro is ordinary."

   "You hadn't thought of them going to St Cat's as well?  Company for
Toots?"

   "No chance," Dawn laughed.  "I am never letting those kids out of my
sight for a single day, not any more."

   "What about the other girl, Candi?  What became of her?"

   "Two lovely kids now.  And she's working at the farm shop down the road.
Lovely girl, I've always liked her ...  hey, is that the time?"

   We all looked at the clock.  Still an hour's journey back to the school.

   "We really must be getting along," I said.  "We've been keeping you. 
Look, come along to St Cat's any time, meet the girls, and Moggie." Smegs
scribbled the number on a scrap of paper.  Anastasia was curled up between
Corinne and me, snoring gently.

   "Let me carry her to the car," said Jeremy, and he picked her up like a
busty rag doll.  She never stirred, but rested her head on his shoulder. 
We all said goodbye to Dawn and Toots.  Corinne gave Dawn her towels back.

   "They're all wet, I'm afraid, sorry!"

   Dawn kissed her on the cheek.  "Don't worry, darling.  I remember what
it was like.  Young Candi's just the same." She hung the towels over her
arm.  "Gosh, Corinne, you are a wet girl, aren't you!"

   It was crowded in the back seat, with Anastasia between us and all those
breasts wedged together.  It saved having them flopping around, at least.



   **********

   Smegs turned round from the passenger seat.  She was doing her
dog-sniffing act again.  Honestly, I don't know how she could do that, it's
so rude.

   "I hope you've all got panties on," she said.  "I collect them when we
get back."

   "You're not having mine, for a start," said Corinne.

   "Anastasia's not wearing any," I said, after a brief exploration.

   "Blast the girl," Smegs spluttered.  "Filthy slut, walking about all day
half dressed."

   "Leave her alone, the poor child has gone though enough today, being
kidnapped as a sex slave ..."

   "She wasn't kidnapped.  *She* was the one who called *them*, remember?"

   "That's not the point.  She wasn't herself.  And she's sorry now." I
stroked the girl's hair, and she put her thumb in her mouth.  Her cheek
felt hot.  "I hope the poor kid's not caught a chill or anything, out there
all day in just her uniform."

   "And no knickers," Smegs muttered, facing the front.

   Sometimes, I wonder what Jeremy thinks of us all, apparently obsessed
with knickers and all those sorts of things.



   **********

   We arrived back at St Cat's at around ten thirty.  Past Anastasia's
bedtime.

   "Don't disturb them in the dorm," I said.  "Bring her up to my old
bedroom."

   Jeremy carried the inert child up the stairs and we tucked her up in my
narrow bed.

   "Thanks, Jeremy.  You want to stay for a coffee or something?"

   He glanced at Corinne.  "No, I'll be getting on, Shan, thanks all the
same.  Got to get some stuff ready for the morning." He bent and gave me a
soft kiss on the cheek.  Corinne offered her cheek too, and received a
gentle peck.  "Night, love.  You too, Cee!"

   After he had gone, we clung to each other for a while.  "What a bloody
day," said Corinne, and shivered.

   "Don't catch cold.  Climb into bed and I'll make you a hot something. 
Chocolate?"

   "Please!"

   But five minutes later when I came back in with her mug, she was asleep.



   **********

   I suppose I shouldn't, but I tucked the covers up under Corinne's chin
and slipped out of the bedroom door.  Jeremy didn't seem all that surprised
to see me.

   "Hi, Shan.  What's up?"

   "Corinne's asleep.  She dropped off as soon as her head touched the
pillow.  I thought I'd come and see if you were still awake."

   Jeremy pinched himself and grinned at me.  He held his arms wide and
hugged me against him.  My cheek lay on the hard warmth of his chest.  I
turned my head and looked up at him, and we kissed.

   "I want to be doggied, Jeremy.  Really badly!"

   "You'll have it done properly or not at all, Shan.  Come here!" He led
me to the bed.  The covers were already turned back, and Jeremy removed the
hot water bottle.  "I know you like the bed warmed up, Shan."

   "You what?  You mean you knew I was coming over here?"

   "I didn't know, but I certainly hoped.  Maybe I prayed a little, too."

   "Your prayers are answered, darling," I announced, holding my arms out
to the sides for him to take off my blouse and bra.  He obliged with his
usual efficiency, and followed up with my skirt.

   "Oh, shit," I said.  "I forgot to leave my panties in Smegs's sack. 
She'll have left it outside her room specially."

   "She'll never know you haven't put yours in there.  Tell you you stuffed
them right down at the bottom of the bag."

   "She'll know all right.  You don't know Smegs and her sense of smell. 
Have you got a plastic bag?  At least we can keep them moist overnight. 
Smegs goes crazy when I let them dry out."

   Jeremy found a bag and watched me as I tucked my panties into it and
tied the top closed.

   "You're a funny lot, you and your knickers." I was shivering slightly,
standing there in just my socks.  "My darling, are you cold?  Come on, into
bed."

   We lay and cuddled for a while.  "Are you sure you want it doggie
fashion?  It will be ever so draughty."

   "All right, then," I conceded.  "Since I'm nice and comfy.  Climb
aboard, big Jay.  Ride Shannie into the moonlight."

   He mounted me.  His knees were cold.  Just this once, I was glad I
hadn't suggested doing it in the back of the Jaguar.



   **********

   Corinne understood.  I crawled into bed beside her at 7.30 next morning.

   "Don't get up," I said.  "It's Saturday!"

   "You're home early, Shannie." Corinne's voice was full of sleep.

   "Jeremy threw me out.  He had to go into town to collect some timber. 
He said I couldn't stay in bed, the shed was fully booked by the Fifth Form
for Practical Fucking Homework.  They've got it for the whole weekend."

   "Don't sound so shocked, darling!" She cuddled me.  "You're cold. 
You've got a cold bottom," she complained.  "It's freezing Cee's little
pussy off!"

   "No, don't let that happen.  Let me warm it up for you." I dived beneath
the covers.  Corinne was moist and ready for me.  "I'll have to sleep with
Jeremy more often," I suggested, emerging momentarily to exchange a
pussy-flavoured kiss.

   "Don't you dare!"

   "No, I don't think I will," I said, as her bed-warm fingers teased my
aching rude bits.  "I always forget how big he is until it's too late.  Not
hung quite like Darren, but he's still quite unnecessarily large.  It was
an accident with some early boob-juice that caused it ..."

   "Talking of boob-juice," said Corinne softly.  "I'm very full this
morning ...!"

   The kitchen door creaked open and Anastasia's face appeared.

   "I woke up and didn't know where I was, Miss," she said in a weary
voice.

   "Are you all right, Anastasia?" I asked.

   She shivered and shook her head.  "I've got a sore throat, it hurts when
I swallow.  And I'm freezing."

   "Come here, then.  Get in here with us.  We'll thaw you out."

   Anastasia looked uncertainly at Corinne and me.  We both held out our
arms in welcome.

   "Come and have a nice warm drink," said Corinne.  That made up her mind
for her.

   The poor darling was like a block of ice.  We had to rub her all over
before she stopped shivering.



   **********

   "It's just as well we did bring you home with us from Longshott Down,
Anastasia." She was sitting up in the bed in the sick quarters.  The nurse
had stuck a thermometer in her mouth.  The girl could only nod.

   "If you'd been sold to the great Pasha Mandingo of Cantelopia, you'd
have had a miserable journey on the ship with a cold.  He might even have
sent you back home!  You can't have a girl with a cold in a harem.  All the
girls would catch it."

   Nurse came and took the thermometer out.  She glared at it as if defying
it to read more than 98.4 degrees.

   "Was I being sold, Miss?" Anastasia's voice was husky, quite sexy, I
thought.

   "Thousands of pounds, Toots said."

   "Gosh, am I worth as much as that, Miss?"

   "Every penny, darling!"









   Chapter 54:- As Well As Can Be Expected



   Suzanne peered into the beaker and dipped a finger into it.  The mixture
was creamy, and quite smooth, with no lumps.

   "Is it ready?" asked Pansy.

   "Think so.  It feels nice." She rubbed her finger and thumb together. 
"Oooh, it gets warm when you rub it!  I bet this will feel great on your
tits!"

   "We're not wasting it on yours!  This is for Miss Meadowlark." Pansy was
silent for a moment.  "Suze?  Do you think it's a good idea, trying it out
on Miss Meadowlark?"

   "It's what Miss Gruntworthy said.  We can't go against her wishes, can
we?  What's wrong, anyway?"

   "Well, there isn't much here, and Miss Meadowlark is so enormous. 
Imagine if we only had enough to do one side.  She'd be all uneven."

   "She'd be walking round in circles," Suzanne giggled.  "But it should
spread thinly enough.  We've only got to give her one coat."

   "I don't know.  I think we ought to find somebody not so big, but still
with big heavy tits."

   "About your size, Pan?" Suzanne grinned suggestively.

   "Not me!  No way are you rubbing that on me!"

   "How about Anastasia, then?"

   Pansy thought about the idea.  "You mean while she's over in the sick
quarters?  Go over and take advantage of a poor defenceless kid when she's
weakened and ill?"

   "What better time?"

   Pansy picked up the beaker.  "C'mon, then.  While we're doing it, you'd
better think of an excuse to tell Miss Gruntworthy."



   **********

   "The First Form Sexual Chemistry Group was mixing some new stuff," I
blurted suddenly.

   Corinne continued brushing her hair.  "Hmmm?"

   "I thought you might like to try some of it.  You know, just to try. 
It's harmless stuff."

   "Harmless.  Since when did the First Form Sexual Chemistry Group ever
make anything harmless?  What's this one intended to do, anyway?"

   I had her interest.  "It makes breasts lighter!" I stood behind her,
looking over her shoulder at her face in the mirror.  Reaching round her, I
lifted one breast as far as I could with one hand.  It spilled and flopped
out of my grasp and I had to lower it again quickly.  "About half as heavy
as originally.  They call it FatLite?"

   "Fat light?"

   "No, FatLite, silly."

   "Oh, FatLite!  What's it supposed to do?"

   "It acts on fats, and turns them into lightweight fat, same as cooking
fat."

   Corinne laughed.  "But that stuff is the same weight, it's just twice as
big!"

   Trust Corinne to see things from the wrong angle.

   "No," I insisted, "they've been speaking to manufacturers of lightweight
fat.  They say there's less actual fat there, and it's lighter than the
real thing.  They've made up a sample.  Here are the ingredients." I handed
her a sheet of paper.

   "What's all this stuff?  I don't recognise any of it.  Apart from the
last one.  Girl-milk!"

   "What?  I didn't see that when I ..."

   Pansy had evidently added another ingredient to the mixture.  Still, a
spot of Shona-milk never did anyone any harm.

   "Anyway," I said.  "I wondered if you'd like to try it ...?"

   Wronggg!  I had not chosen the right time to ask Corinne.  She turned
round with an expression of scorn.  "If you think I am going to be a
guinea-pig again for those flea-brained kids in the First Form Sexual
Chemistry Group, you have got another think coming.  Rub that stuff on my
tits?  And have them finish up twice as big and just as heavy?  Shan,
you're as bad as they are!"

   I went and looked out of the window.  It started to rain; great splashes
beating on the glass.

   "I'm sorry," I said.  "I just thought you'd want them not to be so
heavy. I was only thinking of you.  Perhaps I'd better tell them not to
make this stuff until we've tested it a bit more.  See you later ..."

   "Shan?  Shannie?"

   I heard her call after I had closed the door and hurried away.



   **********

   "That was a great idea, Suze, mixing this stuff with it."

   Pansy sniffed the FatLite cream, inhaling the heady Menthol vapour.

   "Just a little bit.  It smells so strong, you'd never know it was mixed
with anything.  And now, all we have to do is to tell Nurse we're rubbing
Anastasia's chest with Vick!"

   "I'd never have thought of that, though, Suze.  It's what makes you so
brilliant and creative.  I'm just a dull scientist.  You're an inventor!"

   "Oh, Pan!" Suzanne stopped and stood with her toes turned inwards.

   "Come on, it's starting to rain.  We don't want to have to rub your
chest as well.  We'd need a family-size jar of Vick for those things!"

   They closed the door and their footsteps squeaked on the polished floor
of the sick-bay.

   "Will you tell Nurse, or shall I," Suzanne whispered.

   "Tell me what," boomed Nurse's voice from behind them.  "What are you
two doing in here?"

   "We came to see our friend Anastasia.  They said she'd got a sore
throat," Pansy burbled.

   "So we came to rub some Vick on her chest," added Suzanne.

   "Make her better." Pansy held up the beaker.

   "That's not Vick!" Nurse seized the beaker and sniffed deeply.  Her eyes
watered.  "Well, maybe it is at that.  What's it doing in there.  Why not
in a jar?"

   "The jar broke ..."

   "A plastic jar broke?"

   "It caught fire," gabbled Pansy.

   "We were warming it by the fire and it started to melt, so we poured it
in this beaker," suggest Suzanne, and the girls held their breath.  They
had reached Anastasia's door.

   "Go on, then," grinned Nurse.  "But only if she's awake.  The poor
girl's had a nasty experience.  Don't go waking her up."

   The girls crept inside the room and closed the door.  It was stiflingly
hot, and Anastasia was asleep, on her back, the covers pulled up to her
nose.  The mountain range of her breasts almost hid her face from them. 
Suzanne crept round the side of the bed and pulled down the sheet, as if
identifying the body of a loved one.  She nodded to Pansy.  "It's her," she
said.  "She looks so peaceful."

   "Wake the cow up, then," growled Pansy.  "Look at the tits on her!  They
must weigh half a ton."

   Suzanne shook Anastasia gently.  Her bosom rocked from side to side like
a whale caught in the wake of a supertanker.  "Anastasia?  Wake up."

   "Wake up, you idle bitch," Pansy said, grabbing Anastasia's toe and
twisting vigorously.  The patient regained consciousness and looked about
her without recognition.

   "Oh, hi, you two." She didn't seem overjoyed to see them, and she winced
as she realised her throat hurt.

   "We've come to rub your chest!"

   "What with?" asked Anastasia in panic.

   "Vick.  Make you all better.  Here ..." Pansy offered the beaker to
Anastasia, who sniffed it and sank back on her pillow.

   "Sit up, love," Suzanne raised the limp girl up and wedged two pillows
behind her.

   "Let's undo your nightie," said Pansy.  There were only three small
buttons at the neck.  They would never get a hand inside Anastasia's
crowded bodice, not through that little gap.  "Take it right off," she
said.

   There was a waft of unwashed girl as Suzanne peeled the nightie off over
Anastasia's head.

   "It's cold," she complained, shivering.  The shivers carried on down the
expanse of her breasts to the nipples, which vibrated interestingly.  "It's
freezing," she yelped, as Suzanne slapped a dollop of mixture on to the
peak of her left breast.  Pansy took another helping and did the same for
her right.

   "How's it feel," asked Pansy after a minute of rubbing.

   "Mmmm, nice now.  It's all warmed up!  Put more on me, please."

   The girls obliged.  They were finding the stuff spreading rather better
than they had feared.  It easily covered the whole of Anastasia's generous
fullness.

   "Do you need to do underneath them like that?"

   "They're all part of your chest, even underneath," insisted Suzanne. 
"It's all right, if we get any on your pussy where your boobs touch it,
we'll wipe it off."

   "Oh, good.  I don't really have a cold in my pussy."

   They finished off the beaker.

   "Why is it in there, not in a jar?" Anastasia wanted to know.  But her
voice was drowsy, and it hurt to talk.  She closed her eyes, and never even
heard Pansy's and Suzanne's conflicting answers.

   They covered her up and left her asleep.  Impossible to get her nightie
back on, now she was all sticky with cream.



   **********

   The lab was empty.  So was the cousins' usual bench.  They had tidied up
after them.  There was only one beaker of any description, and that
appeared to be in the place where Anastasia usually worked.  I picked it up
and sniffed it.

   Nothing.  Was I getting a cold as well?  I sniffed deeper.  It still
smelled of nothing.  In the bottom of the beaker was a smooth, creamy
substance.  It must be the right one.  The girls wouldn't be in here on a
Saturday morning, anyway, so they wouldn't have taken their beaker out of
the lab.

   Quickly, I took the beaker and hurried out.  Now to rub it on Corinne.

   Halfway across the quad, I changed my mind.  The cream in the beaker was
only about a quarter of an inch in the bottom.  It would never be enough to
cover Corinne's enormous breasts.  It wouldn't even cover one of them.  It
was time for an instant decision.  I turned right and headed for the sick
quarters.

   "How's the patient, Sister?" Nurse liked being called Sister.

   "Sleeping.  As well as can be expected.  A further bulletin will be
issued at ..."

   "I'll just pop in and see her, then.  I won't disturb her."

   Anastasia was snoring, on her back, in the hot little room.  There was a
combination of smells, of medicine, antiseptic, Menthol and moist girl.  I
crept closer and turned back the sheet.  She wasn't wearing a nightie, and
her breasts looked greasy.  The nurse must have rubbed some Vick on her
chest.  Never mind, a little more rubbing would do her no harm.

   She stirred in her sleep when I started rubbing, and one eye opened.

   "Oh, 'lo, Miss!" She lay back, luxuriating in the feeling of warm hands
caressing her breasts.  "Mmm, that feels really lovely, Miss.  I wish you
could rub my tits all day!  Ooooh, rub round the nipples.  Yesss!  And
under there, and round the sides ...!"

   Her breathing was shorter, and she was beginning to pant.  Her hands
were out of sight beneath the covers but it was wholly obvious where they
were and what they were doing.  I strove to concentrate, rubbing the cream
into her soft skin, feeling the tautness of the flesh beneath my slick
fingers as I worked over every warm inch of her heavenly globes.  I
returned to the nipples again and again, feeling the areolae becoming more
and more puffy, the nipples erect and rubbery, springing upward between
each pass of my searching hands.

   We reached our climax at more or less the same time.

   "Ooooooh, Miss!  That was fantastic.  Much better than when Suze and Pan
rubbed me earlier!  Can you come and do me again today, and tomorrow.  Can
you do me every day?  What day is this, Miss?" she asked, as if remembering
something.

   "Saturday.  It's all right.  You're not missing any lessons."

   "Oh, good!  There's something you could do for me, if you would, Miss."

   "Of course, darling.  What is it?"

   "Could you go in the lab, please?  I was so busy with Sho yesterday
morning doing the Steam and Lube factory, I didn't have a chance to finish
something else I was doing.  Something important."

   "What do you want me to do, Anastasia?"

   "Rub my tits again, Miss," she hissed urgently.  "All over.  Every bit.
I think you missed a bit last time, Miss.  Rub them, ooooooh, that's right.
God, it feels so good!"

   I had used up all the cream in the beaker, but I rubbed her anyway, and
it seemed to make no difference, she enjoyed it just as much as before.

   So did I.

   Anastasia fell sound asleep after her second or third orgasm, and I had
tucked her up in the sheets again.  I couldn't wait to get back to the
bedroom and give Corinne a good seeing-to.  I was halfway down the
squeaking polished corridor on the way out, when I remembered that the girl
had been about to tell me something.  Something important in the
laboratory. Could I wake her up for something as trivial?

   She'd said it was important.  I turned back.

   "Oh, hi, Miss!  What day is it?  Have you come to rub me again?"

   I hadn't, but I thought I might as well as we both enjoyed it so much.
This time, I made a point of getting her to tell me what was so important
in the lab.

   "By my work bench, Miss.  A beaker with some cream in the bottom.  Can
you wash it away down the waste disposal, Miss.  It's the remains of an
experiment, some stuff that went wrong.  It has to be thrown away.  I hate
to think what might happen if any of the girls got hold of it and started
rubbing it on anywhere."

   "A beaker, by your bench.  Throw it away.  An experiment that went
wrong." My voice had gone all monotonous on me.

   "Finish rubbing me, Miss.  Don't you dare go until you've finished me
off again.  I've never got off so many times with just my tits, Miss.  Are
yours the same, Miss?  Can you come just by having yours rubbed, too? 
Oooooooh, I love having such huge ones.  Yessss!"

   She closed her eyes and shuddered softly.  She was now in the lead by
four to two, at least.  I had to get back to Corinne!

   "I wish they were twice as big, Miss," Anastasia sighed.

   "Just one thing, darling," I whispered, close to her ear.  "The stuff in
the lab that went wrong?  What does it do?"

   No answer.  Anastasia was fast asleep.

   I tiptoed out.  I was halfway down the squeaking polished corridor on
the way out, when I remembered something that Anastasia had said earlier.
Something which hadn't registered at the time.









   Part XIX









   Chapter 55:- A New Project



   "We haven't had one of these meetings for some time," said Moggie,
leaning back on her chair.  Facing her, across the green leather top of her
desk, from left to right, Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen, Miss Meadowlark, Miss
Gruntworthy and Miss Mountains, her four trusty lieutenants.  Presumably
one of us was a Major and another a Captain, but Moggie treated us all as
serfs, so the question of rank never arose.

   I found myself staring at the odd-shaped mark made weeks ago by my
gushing love-juices on the leather.  Strange how it had left such an
indelible stain, defying the cleaners' nightly efforts with the Mr Sheen.
Moggie leaned back even more, and planted her feet on the desktop.  I had
time to register the fact that her shoes were highly unsuitable for the
headmistress of a respected girls' High School.  They were the type widely
known as fuck-me shoes.  Moggie was evidently off on one of her little
trips this morning, and the purpose of the meeting was to stamp her
authority on us before she went.  Which of the school governors was she
seeing this time, and where?  Brighton, perhaps?  Brisk walks by the
shingle beach to build up an appetite for a couple of hours of intensive
sex before breakfast, luncheon and dinner?

   The four lieutenants all stood as one and peered anxiously over the top
of the desk, to where Moggie lay sprawled in the wreckage of her chair. 
She had leaned back too far once too often.  More expense, I thought, that
chair would never be the same again.

   "Fuck it," she said, summing up the situation.  "I bet that's bye-bye to
another pair of these things."

   'These things' were apparently normal stockings or tights, but at the
top they were dramatically cut away and were apparently self-supporting. 
Our headmistress, I observed, was not wearing any knickers, which was a
matter of supreme indifference to me, but would no doubt strike Smegs as a
criminal waste of good juices.

   "Is nobody going to help me up?" Moggie enquired testily.  Smegs was
closest.  She fumbled with bits of chair and finally heaved Moggie to her
feet with cavalier roughness.  "Thank you," said Moggie.  She looked about
her for a chair, and finally accepted the one Smegs placed in position for
her.  It was a little lower than the proper one, and we could see little
more than her head, a slightly unnerving experience, like talking to the
mortal remains of John the Baptist.  Without the beard, of course.

   "I want you to quickly run down what progress you are all making before
I go off for a few days.  Megan?  How's this wretched film project coming?"

   "We hope to restart shooting sometime this week," Smegs improvised
smartly.  "A bit of a problem with the star.  Abi was apparently the victim
of a schoolgirl prank with Breast Reducing Cream.  She is more or less
recovered, but there will be a continuity problem.  She is no longer the
same size as in her earlier scenes.  We may, in fact, need to reshoot some
of her earlier material."

   "Not good enough, Megan.  You should have foreseen this and taken
appropriate action.  Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen?  New St Cat's School
Song?"

   "All written and ready for rehearsals.  We shall make a recording and
the accompanying video next week.  I will sing you a few verses if you wish
..." Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen rose to her feet, clasped her hands in
front of her chest and struck an attitude.

   The rest of us covered our ears, but Moggie stepped in quickly.  "Not
necessary, Gwladys, thank you!"

   Gwladys?  What sort of a name was that, I thought.  No wonder she
preferred to be known simply as Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen.  Moggie,
meanwhile, had called on Corinne for her report on Support and Mobility.

   "Wheelbarrow survey is complete, Miss," said Corinne, oozing quiet
confidence.  I began to ooze something else, none too quietly, and Smegs
and Moggie looked sharply at me.  Smegs, in fact, looked sharply up my
skirt, to make sure I was wearing panties.  Satisfied, she restored my
decency, although she left her hand on my upper thigh, her fingers trailing
lightly down between my legs.

   Corinne sat down, noticed Smegs's hand, and added one of her own to the
party, so that their fingers were practically touching between my aching
thighs.  Between them, they pushed my skirt up to reveal most of my
underwear.

   "How about you, Shan?" Moggie's head looked at me.  "No, don't get up.
No doubt those two randy bitches have got a hand in your pants!"

   The two randy bitches evidently took this as permission.  The crotch of
my knickers was eased out of the way on both sides at once, and several
fingers began pleasuring me.

   "The First Form Sexual Chemistry Group is working on three projects," I
quavered, my voice going up and down.  "These are Lube, and its co-product,
Steam; and the new FatLite, which is intended to reduce the weight of fat,
specifically in the breasts, while retaining the bulk.  So far, successful
trials have been carried out on a rabbit, Chauntaille, and possibly, it
seems, on one girl, Anastasia.  I shall report more fully when Anastasia
comes out of the sick quarters."

   Moggie raised her eyebrows.

   "She has a cold," I explained.

   "Poor child," sympathised Moggie.  "Nobody loves a sick puppy."

   It struck me that Anastasia's decidedly healthy-looking puppies had seen
more than their fair share of loving on Saturday, but I decided not to
mention it.  Not until I had seen Anastasia today.  Nurse had said she was
not well enough for visitors all day Sunday.  I had to see the First Form
Sexual Chemistry Group as well.  If, as seemed horribly likely, Suzanne and
Pansy had rubbed Anastasia's chest with FatLite, and if I had rubbed her
chest with ...

   No, especially with all this attention I was getting between my legs, it
was too much for my poor brain to take in.

   "Last thing, then," Moggie glanced at the clock on the wall.  She was
obviously feeling ready for sex or something.  "Foreign students.  You will
remember, I asked you to consider means of attracting new students from
overseas.  What progress?"

   We racked our brains, without inspiration.

   "There's one, Miss," I offered, without much hope.  "Her stepmother has
already applied for her to join us after the summer holidays.  We saw her
last night."

   "What's her name?" Moggie thumbed through a dog-eared list.

   Corinne and Smegs looked at me, they had obviously both forgotten
Toots's name.

   "Tessa Lashmore."

   Moggie sniffed.  "Doesn't sound very foreign to me!"

   "It's not her real name.  She's adopted.  She's from Jamaica or
somewhere."

   "How big is she?"

   Both Corinne and Smegs held out their disengaged hands to indicate
something about four feet six tall.

   Moggie lifted up her eyes unto the hills.  "Not that.  What's her bust
size?"

   "I haven't measured her, but she must be about seventy-six inches.  A
lot bigger than Megan, certainly." Smegs glowered a warning at me.

   "Seventy-six inches, and only fifty four inches tall?" Moggie looked
glum.  "She does realise that she forfeits her free bras and blouses when
she reaches eighty inches?"

   "I don't believe she needs a ScatBra yet, but yes, we told her
stepmother.  She shrugged and said 'so be it'!" On those last words, my
voice faded away altogether.

   "What are you two doing to that girl down there?" Moggie stood up and
glared over the desk.

   "Nothing," admitted Corinne and Smegs, together, like guilty
schoolgirls.

   "What are they doing to you, Chauntaille?"

   "Touching me, Miss.  One of them touched my clittie, and the other one
pushed her off.  That was when I was trying to talk, Miss."

   "God, you two.  Isn't she big enough for the two of you?  If you can't
share her out, I'll stop you both playing with her altogether!  Do I make
myself clear."

   "Yes, Miss!"

   "I don't know why one of you can't play with Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn
Owen's pussy.  It would save so much trouble."

   Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen shifted her chair as far as it would go away
from the rest of us.  Apparently she preferred not to have other girls
playing with her private parts.  If that was the way she wanted it, it was
certainly okay by me.

   "Meeting closed," announced Moggie, slamming her diary shut.  "Have a
good week.  I will see you when I return." And she was gone.  We heard her
footsteps running down the corridor.  Actually running!  Shortly
afterwards, the BMW departed with a squeal of rubber.  We heard her horn
blasting as she scattered girls on her way to the main gate.  Moggie was
late for an appointment.



   **********

   "Where does she keep it?" Smegs was on her hands and knees, rummaging in
Moggie's desk drawers.  "Stroke of luck her going off in such a rush and
leaving her desk open.  Where's she keep the booze?"

   The office door opened and Miss Labia poked her head inside.  "Bottom
drawer, left hand side," she said, and withdrew.

   "Here it is!" Smegs held up a bottle and an assortment of glasses and
mugs.  "Everyone?"

   "Yes, please," we all said, apart from Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen, who
said nothing.

   Smegs glugged golden liquid into three containers.  "Drink, Gladys?"

   "It's Gwladys," said Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen, sullenly.

   "Fine!  Drink, Goo-laddus?"

   "No thank you." Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen held her nose in the air. 
"I'll be leaving you.  Some of us have work to do in the mornings." The
door closed behind her.

   "Toppers, anyone?"

   We held out our glasses, and slurped noisily.  Corinne was perched on
the edge of Moggie's desk, in a position which gave me an unimpeded view up
her skirt.  I wasn't about to complain.

   Smegs squinted at us owlishly over her brimming mug.  She hiccupped
gravely.

   "Ash ...  ackshully ...  Ashkenazy.  Actuary.  Ah so!"

   Her mind was wandering.  It happens to her when she gets drunk.

   "Actually," she said suddenly, enormously loudly and with exaggerated
care, "there was something I wanted to say to you without Moggie's presence
being present in the room." She thought about that for a while, but failed
to find anything wrong with it.  "I gotta new project."

   "You gotta new project?" Slightly distracted, I watched as Corinne
carefully put down her glass and slowly keeled over backwards until she was
stretched out on her back on the desk with her legs akimbo.  The view had
improved immensely.  I placed my face briefly between her thighs and
snogged deeply on the damp gusset of her knickers.  They tasted of silk and
Cee.

   Smegs's voice reached me again, and I came back out with some regret. 
"You heard of Sindy?  And Barbie Dolls?  I gotta new project.  Smeggy
Dolls!"

   "Do you think they would sell with a name like that?" I asked her.

   Smegs looked genuinely hurt.  "Whass wrong with it?"

   "Nothing really, just the name, perhaps.  But what about them?  What is
a Smeggy Doll?"

   "I could describe it," grinned Smegs, digging me painfully in the thigh
with a sharp finger, "but it'd be better to show you impersonally.  In
person.  Personally.  She arrived this morning in the post." Smegs stood
up, swaying slightly, then settled at an angle of perhaps five degrees from
the vertical.  Not a lot, but enough to be worrying.  "C'mon," she said,
heading for the door.  Wake Corinne up and bring her along, too!"



   **********

   We weaved our way in an imprecise little phalanx across the teeming
quadrangle, the girls parting before us like the Red Sea.  It was as if
they realised that with the cream of the teaching staff drunk and
incapable, there was not much going to be happening in the way of lessons
this Monday morning.  Even St Cat's girls saw this very much as Good News.

   Up the stairs we went, past our bedroom door with some regret, and into
Smegs's place.  The bed was a pigsty of used panties in festering piles. 
Two naked Juniors were sorting through them in a jaded way.  Smegs drove
the girls off with a rolled-up newspaper, yelling at them to come back when
they'd dressed decently.

   This was their punishment for talking in class, she explained.

   She picked up a large cardboard box and removed the lid.  There was
something wrapped in tissue paper inside.  Smegs leered at us.  "Here she
is.  Smeggy Doll!"

   Inside the box lay a doll quite unlike any we had seen before.  She - it
was unmistakeably a she - was about a foot tall, blonde, with long legs
protruding from an abbreviated skirt.  A white blouse was stretched over a
spherical bosom the size of two golf balls.  The face was familiar.  I
glanced up at Smegs and back at the doll.  Very familiar.

   "It's just the prototype, but not bad, right?"

   "She's just like you."

   "A few details still to be added, but not a bad likeness.  Well, what do
you think?"

   We stood, speechless.  Smegs riffled through a heap of papers and waved
a large sheet of printed material at us.  "If you wondered where I've been
lately, I've been busy on this.  Look.  The first advertisement!"

   It was a full page size picture of a huge-breasted doll, dressed as if
for an afternoon on the streets, its tight shorts riding up into a
well-detailed crotch, if I wasn't mistaken, and its nipples like stalks
beneath a tight top that revealed most of the undersides of its ballooning
breasts.  Across the bottom of the page was a simple slogan: 'Ready for
Action, Men, with SMEGGY'.

   While not entirely happy with the quality of the copywriting, I could
see the good points of the doll.  Turning to the box, I took Smeggy out and
examined her.  She was made of a softly yielding latex material, entirely
lifelike, almost warm to the touch.  The breasts squashed in beneath my
thumbs, the hair was long and silky, unbelievably fine.  On an impulse, I
turned Smeggy upside down and removed her delicate panties.  The detail was
exquisite.  All the right holes were there, a generous growth of pubic hair
even.  With shaking fingers, I handed her to Corinne, who touched the doll
intimately in a number of places which I would never even have suspected
Corinne would have known about.

   "As I say," Smegs said again.  "The production version will have more
detail.  Her breasts will grow.  She will become moist when you touch her
in the right places.  We can have a version that pisses herself with
excitement, or shits if she's not careful.  She will menstruate every
twenty-eight days, unless she's late, which will be determined by what
she's been getting up to over the previous month.  Imagine, you could
change her little tampons.  Perfect training for young girls setting out on
life's great adventure.  Or if you prefer it, she can lactate, giving real
milk every four hours."

   "Gosh!"

   "Best of all, she's only the first of the series.  There'll be Shannie
Doll, and Cee Doll.  Maybe even Moggie Doll, and the girls of the First
Form Sexual Chemistry Group?  Suzanne and Pansy, Anastasia and Shona."
Smegs had a dreamy expression, gazing into the distance, looking
sickeningly like the leader of Her Majesty's Loyal Opposition, a Person of
Vision.

   "Don't be such a pratt, Smegs," I told her.  "Who could afford to buy
these?"

   "Nineteen-ninety-nine the basic model," she crowed. 
"Twenty-nine-ninety-nine with bodily functions.  They'll come with one set
of clothes, other accessories are extra.  St Cat's uniforms, self-growing
breasts, self-soiling panties, a full range of girl smells, wheelbarrows
... you name it, we'll market it.  Smeggy Dolls are going to be huge. 
Actually, two inches to the foot, so if adult collectors of miniatures want
to buy them, they will easily be able to keep measuring them every day,
monitoring their constant development!"

   She made a note of something on a notepad as an idea occurred to her. 
"Attention to detail, you see, " she said, "the little things that count.
Pads of forms to enter the doll's measurements every week as she gets
bigger ..."

   "This one isn't growing, though." Corinne placed the doll back in its
box and looked up at Smegs.

   "It wouldn't be, would it.  It's me, that's why!"









   Chapter 56:- Death Of A Model



   We did eventually get round to starting some lessons that morning.  I
kept eyeing up different girls and thinking how they would look as a Smeggy
Doll.  Not good for the concentration.  How would it affect the school? 
What would parents think, having bought their daughter a Smeggy Doll for
her birthday, and finding themselves lumbered with the task of washing
dozens of pairs of minute soiled panties.  Of finding tiny tampons floating
in a blood-stained toilet?  How did one set about educating a doll which
came with disgraceful habits as standard and sluttish clothing as optional
extras?

   I came back to earth.  Suzanne was saying something.  She sounded upset.

   "Miss, it's Chauntaille!  She's disappeared!"

   For some reason, that brought a chill to my veins.  I had to pat myself
to make sure I was still there.

   "Her cage is still locked, and so was the door to the store room.  I fed
her every day, including yesterday evening.  But this morning, she's not
there."

   "She can't be gone.  Perhaps the cleaners moved her somewhere else."

   "No.  Nobody goes in there.  Not even the cleaners.  She's disappeared.
Miss?"

   She was staring at me desperately.

   "I think she's crawled through the gap under the door and got out that
way.  Like mice, Miss!"

   "Oh, Suze!  She's much too fat for that!"

   "But we've been trying to alter her structure, Miss.  Maybe we went too
far and now she can make herself flat, like a piece of cardboard.  Oh,
Miss, she could be anywhere!  She could have wandered on to the road and
got run over."

   "And squashed flat?" I wished I hadn't said that.  It seemed to distress
Suzanne, who clung to me.  Despite being entirely natural, she was
noticeably bigger around than Anastasia.  I enjoyed the sensation for a
short while before thrusting her from me with sadness.  "Darling, we'll
find her!  We can get dogs to go and look for her."

   "But they'll eat her."

   I refrained from pointing out that the best way to eat Chauntaille the
flat rabbit would be between two large slices of bread.  That was when the
thought occurred to me.  We had been using Chauntaille the rabbit as a
guinea pig.  And the same chemical we had used on the rabbit, we had
probably used on Anastasia.  That poor child.  Would she end up by escaping
under the door?  And as if it wasn't bad enough that I had authorised
rubbing the stuff on a human ...

   Another thought brought a chill to my veins.  One way and another, it
was a good morning for chilled veins.  I had nearly had the stuff rubbed on
Corinne!  Oh my God!

   As if rubbing it on Anastasia and making *her* disappear under the door
wasn't sufficiently bad news.  I thought I'd better get over to the sick
bay and find out.  Perhaps she had already disappeared!  What if Nurse had
gone in to take her temperature and found her gone.  That was why she had
told us Anastasia was too ill to have visitors yesterday!  The poor child
might have slipped down a crack in the floorboards, or anything.

   The lunch bell sounded, and Suzanne shot off, her grief over Chauntaille
the rabbit instantly forgotten.  I girded up my loins and set course for
the sick bay.  I had gone no more than half a dozen paces when my resolve
took another blow.  Not only had Anastasia been creamed with suspect
FatLite, the same mixture which had removed a fat rabbit without trace, I
had come along and anointed her breasts with something else.  Not just
anything else, but a mysterious chemical made up of who knew what?

   So if we needed an antidote, we hadn't the foggiest idea where to start
formulating it.



   **********

   Fortunately, I didn't have to go directly to the sick quarters.  A
diversion presented itself.

   Smegs was waving to me.  She seemed more than usually animated.  I
stopped and waited for her to catch up.  She had a package under her arm.

   "What's in there?" I asked.

   "The second prototype Smeggy, I hope.  They promised to send it on. 
Let's go and have a look!"

   She led me into the staff room, already tearing at the wrapping.  A
letter fell out and she handed me the box.  "Carry on opening that, I'll
read this."

   The box was certainly well secured with sticky tape and brown paper.  I
tore away at it, breaking my nail.

   "It's the dynamic model," Smegs gurgled with joy.  "Hurry up with it. 
It has the following new features incorporated: auto-inflation,
auto-micturition, auto-balancing.  'Further features will follow in the
next prototype.  Assuring you of our best attention at all times, yours
faithfully ...' haven't you got it open yet.  Here, use a knife!" She found
a knife in one of the drawers and hacked away at the parcel tape.  Finally,
she ripped her way in.

   Dolly, the Dynamic Model lay in a cocoon of pale pink tissue paper. 
Almost the same size as the original Smegs version, this one had a horribly
pretty doll-like face.  I hated her at first sight.

   "Christ, look at the state of her," said Smegs.

   "Ugly, or what?" I agreed.

   Her breasts were disappointingly small, probably no more than an F cup
in real life, and she was dressed in a ridiculous gingham dress, like a
Fifties Housewife in an ad for a Morris Minor.  Smegs lifted her out and
stood her on the table.  Amazingly, a little buzzing sound started up
somewhere inside, and the doll balanced magically, swaying backwards and
forwards but never falling over.

   "Golly, she's just like you when you've had a few pints too many," I
said.  "How do you make her piss herself?"

   Smegs studied a wad of typed instruction sheets.  "They'll be able to
reduce the instructions to something more manageable later, I suppose," she
said doubtfully.  "Ah, this is it.  'Micturition.  Ensure reservoir is
full. Always refill with clean water.' Bloody spoilsports.  Still, there's
no reason why you shouldn't fill her with piss.  If you've paid for her,
she's yours to do with as you wish.  'Gently hold doll upright and stroke
stomach with finger from top to bottom.' Come on, then, Dolly!  Look," she
squealed, "It's working!"

   It was, too!  As Smegs stood Dolly on the table and gently raised the
hem of the skirt, we watched in awe as a damp patch spread across the
crotch of the pale blue panties.  Water began to trickle down the doll's
leg, and a small pool formed around her feet.

   "It doesn't say how you turn her off.  I suppose it's just like the real
thing.  She just goes until she's empty."

   "Haven't you ever tried stopping, Smegs?  It's great.  I can stop ten
times during a piss, now, even if I'm bursting.  It's the same muscles you
use for ..."

   "I don't really wish to know the secrets of Chauntaille Gruntworthy's
toilet habits, thank you.  If I do, be assured I will ask you."

   I lapsed into silence.

   "I wonder how you make her tits bigger," Smegs said, turning the pages
of instructions faster and faster.  "Yes.  It's here.  'Rub both breasts
simultaneously with tips of fingers.' I assume that's the doll's breasts
they're talking about.  'Several minutes of stimulation may be required.'
They must mean the doll.  It only takes me ten seconds.  Here goes."

   The little buzzing noise intensified as Smegs placed a supporting hand
behind the doll's back and gently massaged her breasts.  She giggled. 
"It's getting warm inside, and her nips are getting all pointy, look!"

   She let go and Dolly stood there, swaying on her own.  The nipples had
expanded and the thin material of the frock was being pushed into points.

   "She's not wearing a bra," I whispered, "the wanton little hussy!"

   "Just as well," said Smegs, "look at her tits!"

   Dolly was noticeably fuller in the bust now.  Without any sudden
inflation, she was growing slowly and steadily before our eyes.  She kept
her balance by a miracle as she expanded, even when her breasts became too
big for the bodice of the dress, and the stitching gave way down one side.
She was leaning slightly backward now, like a pregnant woman, and
interestingly, the breasts were not just expanding as if being blown up by
an air pump, they were getting heavier and hanging lower on her torso.

   "Look at the things," said Smegs again, quite unnecessarily.

   We both gasped as the dress gave way some more, and Dolly's breasts
pushed out into the full light of day, the pointy nipples leading the way
as they swayed and swung lower and lower, beyond her waist.  At the same
time, they spread out to the sides, despite being pressed tightly together
in the middle.  The buzzing changed in pitch, like a bus driving up a hill
and changing gear.  It was getting serious.  The breasts shuddered and
swung more heavily still, actually bouncing now.  They had reached her
stomach.

   "Does it tell you how to stop them?" I said.

   "You want to stop them?"

   "No, but ...  if this goes on ..."

   "Let's see how big she gets.  Anyway, it doesn't tell you how to stop
them.  I suppose that's for the production version."

   They were down to her crotch now, and wider than the rest of her body.
While she swayed to and fro, the doll had turned herself round so her back
was facing us.

   "Take her dress off altogether," I whispered to Smegs.  She hesitated a
moment, then lifted the doll off the table, leaving the dress to fall off
into the puddle of piss.  I wiped it up with the dress, now only a dishrag,
and tossed it away.  The doll was standing in just her panties now, and her
breasts were down to her thighs.

   "Is she as big as me?" I asked Smegs.

   "Hers are bigger than yours,"said Smegs, crushingly.  "Yours are dangly.
Hers are nearly as big as Corinne's." Smegs can be very heartless at times.

   Despite the huge weight of the things, the mechanism was doing a fine
job of maintaining balance.  Down to her knees, and beyond, and so wide,
each one was as wide as her hips, which were pleasingly full beneath the
tight, wet knickers.  She had found a few more drops of piss from
somewhere, and let it go.  I was sure she felt better for it.

   "Jeez, they're as big as Shona's now," I gasped.

   "Bigger than hers.  More like Cassandra's!"

   Dolly gave a few tiny bunny hops across the table as she struggled to
keep herself upright.  The mountainous breasts bounced massively in front
of her.  Her bland, stupidly pretty face gazed across at us, smiling
amiably.

   "There she goes," cried Smegs as the auto-balance threw in the towel,
and the doll toppled forward on to her face.  Not that she got that far, of
course.  Her breasts swung forward and outwards as soon as she
overbalanced, and she rolled on top of them, her legs in the air.  She even
spread her legs in an utterly obscene manner.  Pretty doll face or no
pretty doll face, this Dolly was one horny little bitch.  She rolled over
on to one side, then as she continued to grow, flopped on to her back,
lying there helplessly between the great mounds of ballooning flesh.

   "I think she's had enough, Smegs, try to stop it, please!"

   "No!  Leave her alone!"

   "But she's going to explode!"

   "Serve her right, the ugly cow!"

   Dolly's tits were like small slightly pointed melons now, and would have
been quite acceptable F cups on a normal girl, let alone one only eleven
inches tall.  And they hadn't finished growing.  Whatever miracle material
she was made of, it was getting close to its limits.

   "What do you think she's full of, inside those things?" I asked.

   "Something liquid, by the look of it."

   "It's going to make one hell of a mess in here."

   "Nah, she'll be all right!"

   "In that case, Megan, what are you doing over here behind this
bookcase?"

   "I'm keeping you company."

   We watched the doll roll gently on to her side, then on to her back
again.  Her legs had opened wide, I noticed.  I think if her face hadn't
been so sickeningly pretty, I could have quite fancied that little doll. 
Pity it had to end this way.

   Any moment now.  I felt a sense of great calm come over me, as I reached
out for Smegs's hand.

   The end, when it came, was messy.  At the precise moment the staff room
door opened, and Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen came in, Dolly the Dynamic
Model exploded with staggering violence, splattering shreds of sticky latex
all over the walls, the windows, the ceiling and Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn
Owen. The liquid boob filling was even stickier.  It was bright yellow and
formed itself into strings as it exploded in all directions.  Everything it
touched was covered with fluorescent yellow cobwebs, which hardened into
brittle, glassy fibres as soon as they made contact with the air.  Or in
Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen's case, the hair.

   Nurse had to cut most of it off, which was a shame, really.



   **********

   "It was only a prototype, Shan!  They'll sort the bugs out before we
start selling them, there are bound to be teething troubles with the
world's first ever doll with growing breasts!"

   "I can't help thinking about a poor child being injured by a Smeggy Doll
exploding.  St Cat's would be ruined.  All this that we've worked for, gone
for the sake of a twenty-nine-ninety-nine doll."

   "No, it's gone up.  Forty quid now with balance, piss and growing boobs.
Fifty if you want periods or milk as well.  Sixty if it gets pregnant and
has a baby.  Seventy-five if it has twins: that's the doll that looks like
the Doubleday twins.  A hundred and fifty the pair.  If one gets preggers,
so does the other."

   It was a nightmare.  The thought of all these wretched exploding dolls;
children maimed, their hair shaved off; stinking, shitting dolls filled
with stale urine and other unmentionable substances.  Smegs had made some
bum moves before, but this must be her worst ever.









   Chapter 57:- Sick



   No longer could I escape my responsibilities.  Disappearing rabbits,
exploding dolls were of no importance compared with the child who now lay
in the sick quarters.  Or didn't, as the case may be.  This time, I would
not be diverted from my task.  I set my face toward the sick bay, closed my
eyes against all earthly temptations and walked on as straight a course as
I could.  Perhaps I should have opened them a little sooner.

   A group of Fourth Formers helped me out of the fountain.  Mercifully, it
was still turned off to save the planet.  Regrettably, without the water
circulation intended by the designer, the foot or so of rainwater was
covered with pungent green slime.  The girls sat me on the edge of the pool
and backed away several paces.

   "Phworr, Miss, you dunnarf stink!"

   "It's not me, you daft cow, it's this fucking water," I explained as
kindly as possible.

   "You ought to keep your eyes open, Miss.  You could have had an
accident."

   "I suppose you think this was intentional," I told the girl.  I was cold
and wet, and inclined to heavy irony.  "Give me a hand up." Two of them
reluctantly heaved me to my feet then retired to a safe distance.  With all
the dignity I could muster, I made my way up to the staff quarters, leaving
a trail of slime behind me.

   Half an hour later, Corinne found me huddled in front of the fire,
smothered in towels and shivering like a plate of blancmange.

   "There's hell of a stink in the showers," she said, and a great heap of
wet clothes ...  shit, what's up with you?"

   "I fell id the fountid," I shuddered numbly.  "They're my clothes out
there."

   "Smegs was looking at them.  She took your panties away."

   "Oh, God!"

   Corinne hurried away and came back a couple of minutes later with a
steaming mug.  "Here, love, get yourself wrapped round that.  You should
have told me, I'd have come and looked after you."

   The mug seemed to contain hot lemon juice or something like that.  It
felt comforting.  It was too hot to drink down in one go, I had to sip at
it slowly.

   "You ought to be in the sick quarters," said Corinne.  "Where were you
going when you fell in the fountain?"

   "The sick quarters.  To see Anastasia!"

   "Well, you'll be able to see her for the next couple of days.  I'm going
to phone the nurse.  Drink up, and I'll dig out some warm clothes for you."

   So I did get to the sick quarters, after all, but about two hours later
than I had intended.



   **********

   Nurse came fussing in and shoved a thermometer in my mouth.

   "Leave it in there," she snapped.

   "Hnnf Amfavia?"

   "What?"

   I removed the thermometer.  "How's Anastasia?"

   "Put that back," screamed Nurse.  "How can I take your temperature and
do a million other things if you keep taking the bloody thermometer out of
your mouth?"

   "I only took it out once.  Well, twice now."

   She thrust it back in again.  Miserable cow.  She strode around glaring
at her watch, whipped the thermometer out and looked at it with rage on her
face.

   "You're SICK!" she screamed.

   "That's why I'm here," I tried to argue, but my throat hurt.

   "Lie down!  Sit up, drink this!  Don't spill it!  God, you are worse
than one of the girls.  You'll be bursting into tears next!  There, what
did I tell you?"

   "What about Anastasia?  Is she all ri ...?"

   She'd already gone.



   **********

   "What can we take her as a present, Pan?"

   "We don't have to give her a present, Suze, she's only got a cold.  It's
not as if she's been away, or died, or anything."

   "It would be nice.  Just a bunch of grapes or something."

   "She gets fed in there.  Same as us.  They give her all her meals.  I
think she'll be happy just to see us.  Come on, let's go, then we can be
back in time for lunch.  You coming, Shona?"

   "Where?" Shona sat gloomily at her desk.  She wanted milking, but hadn't
the energy to get up and use the class breast pump.

   "The hospital," said Suzanne.  "Sick quarters.  To see Anastasia.  Come
on, she likes you best of all."

   "Nobody likes me," grumped Shona, but she got up anyway, feeling the
dampness around her nipples as she leaked into her bra cups.  "I need
milking," she complained miserably.

   "Oh, you poor old thing!" Suzanne hugged her big friend.  "Have we got
time to milk her before we go, Pan?"

   "Only if you want to miss your lunch.  Why couldn't she milk herself
regularly like the other girls, instead of waiting until she leaks all over
the place.  Look at her!"

   Suzanne looked at her, and Shona looked at herself.

   "Oh, you two can go and see Staze.  I'll stay here and get milked.  It's
too far to walk with these things, and I can't be bothered getting my
barrow down that rough path to the sick quarters.  Give her my love." She
sighed heavily and sat down again.  As soon as the two cousins had gone,
Shona laid her head on her arms and cried her eyes out.



   **********

   I heard the two girls come into the sick quarters.  The door banged back
against the wall with a crash, and there was a lot of exaggerated shushing.

   "What was that?  What's all the noise?  What do you two want?"

   Nurse believed in a barrage of unanswerable questions.  She was just
outside the door of my room.

   "You must be quiet in here," she bellowed.  "There are sick people
trying to sleep!"

   "We wanted to see our friend," said Suzanne in a tiny voice.

   "Shut UP!  You come in here, yelling your heads off ...  what friend?"

   "Anastasia."

   "You can't see her."

   "But we saw her on Saturday, and she was getting better.  We rubbed Vick
on her chest."

   "You can't see her now."

   "Is she worse?"

   "You can't see her.  Get out."

   "But ..."

   "And don't argue.  You're arguing, right outside the room of a seriously
ill patient."

   That's me, I thought, feeling sorry for myself.

   "Anastasia's not seriously ill, she's only got a cold ..."

   "You can not see Anastasia, and it's Miss Gruntworthy who is ill.  Now
get out and don't come back!"

   Her footsteps turned and squeaked away down the corridor.  Somewhere in
the distance, a door slammed.  Nurse would by now be curled up in front of
her television, eating chocolates.  It had gone quiet out there.  Then I
heard the door handle turn and the creak of the hinges.

   "Miss?"

   "You all right, Miss?"

   They stood on each side of my bed, looking desperately anxious.  I
pulled the sheet down an inch and said hello.

   "Oh, Miss.  Nurse said you were dying." I didn't remember that bit, but
perhaps she'd said it quietly.

   "We came to see Anastasia, Miss." Suzanne peered at me imploringly. 
"Have you seen her?"

   "Not yet," I croaked hoarsely.  "Nurse won't let me."

   "But you're a teacher, Miss," Pansy sounded outraged.  "Tell her to get
stuffed."

   "She can't do that, Pan.  Nurse might poison her medicine.  I bet she's
poisoned Anastasia, that's why she won't let us see her.  She's waiting
until it's dark then she can bury the body."

   "Don't say things like that, Suze, it might be true."

   I looked from one to the other, wondering whether to tell them the story
about rubbing Anastasia's chest.  I wondered if they had worked out for
themselves that Anastasia had been shrunk to the thickness of a sheet of
cardboard and had slipped out under the door.

   Somewhere in the school, a bell sounded.

   "It's lunchtime, Pan." Suzanne dragged her cousin away.  "We'll come and
visit you later, Miss.  Bring you some grapes and stuff."

   "Don't die, Miss.  Losing Anastasia was bad enough!"



   **********

   Nurse even bullied Corinne when she came visiting with a bottle of
orange juice and a pile of books.

   "You can have five minutes," she yelled.  "The patient is ill.  How can
I get that simple fact into your thick skulls, you people?"

   "I won't be long," Corinne murmured, "and thank you for letting me see
her." She slipped into the room and perched her bottom on the chair.  She
looked good, even if I was dying.  "Hello, lover!"

   "Hi!"

   "Brought you some drink, and a couple of books.  How's the voice?"

   "Fine!"

   "Sounds like it.  Look, I've got to go, got a class.  You take care,
okay?" I felt a little kiss on the forehead and she slipped out as silently
as she had arrived.



   **********

   Nurse shouldn't have crossed swords with Smegs.  I could have told her
it was a bad idea.

   "Five fucking minutes?  I will take five hours if I feel like it,
Nursey, all right!"

   My bestest friend burst in.  "Who does that cow think she is?" she
raged, slamming down on the bed and setting the whole thing bouncing. 
"I've brought you some stuff." She dumped a carrier bag on the bedside
table.  "Food." She sounded awkward and embarrassed.  "And for when you're
feeling better, some panties to sort out.  No rush, I'll collect them in
the morning.  See you later."

   It wasn't Smegs style, ministering to the sick.  I peeked into the bag
of food.  The packet of chocolate chip cookies were my favourites.  Pity
about my sore throat.  And I would peel that great big orange when my
fingers felt a bit stronger.  And a nice bag of porky scratchings.  Smegs
must have been to the pub specially to buy those for me.

   Tears came to my eyes.  I realised it was the bag of panties. 
Fortunately, my sense of smell was diminished, but I could still smell
these.  They were unreservedly dreadful.  I turned over a few pairs, my
mind subconsciously grading them as A, A+C, B, and so on.  Mine were in
there, I noticed, still thick with green slime.

   Tomorrow would do for those.  If I felt up to it.  I sank back on the
pillow and tried to sleep.  I was drifting away, when Nurse came in to
plump up my pillows and take my temperature again.  She seemed so cross
that it was going down, just as she had been cross while it was going up.

   "Go to sleep," she snapped, when I started to ask her about Anastasia
again.  I tried to explain to her that was what I had been trying to do
when she interrupted me.  A complete waste of time.



   **********

   I felt a lot better in the morning.  Probably not quite up to
pantie-sorting, and feeling a little light-headed, but well enough to get
out of bed.  My thoughts were clear enough to work out my plan of action. I
knew where Anastasia's room was, the next one down the corridor, on the
same side as my room.  The loo was further on, round the corner, on the
left.  If Nurse found me wandering around, I had the excuse that I was
busting for a piss.

   The polished floor was icy cold, and the corridor was freezing after the
fuggy warmth of my room.  I had to fight to overcome the temptation to
crawl back into my cosy bed.  I crept along, my nipples feeling like
icicles crowded inside the top of my nightdress.

   Here was the door to Anastasia's room.  I had my hand on the door handle
and was about to go in, but suddenly realised that I did, after all, need
to pay a visit to the loo.  It must have been the sudden chill out there in
the corridor.

   I waddled on down the corridor and turned the corner, then dived into
the toilets.  Five minutes later, not feeling very well at all, I made my
way back toward Anastasia's room.  I stood, poised, wondering whether to
open it, and finally made my decision.  I flung the door wide and stepped
inside.

   It was pitch dark.

   I fumbled for a light switch, found it, and stared around as the light
came on.  From floor to ceiling, the room was lined with shelves, laden
with sheets, blankets, roller towels, boxes of tampons, toilet rolls, paper
towels, baby requisites, breast pumps still in the makers' boxes, surgical
dressings.  Mops and buckets stood in rows.  Cans of floor polish, drums of
disinfectant, boxes of soap and detergent.

   This was the wrong room.  I backed out again and closed the door.

   Again, I stood, ready to open the door of the next room.  Quick, before
Nursey comes.  I darted inside, ready to greet Anastasia with a cheery
word. Would she be flat as a piece of cardboard.  Would Nurse have rolled
her up, tied a string around her middle and stood her neatly in the corner?

   The bed was empty, although the covers had been turned back.  On the
bedside table was a carrier bag, a bottle of orange juice and a heap of
books.  On the floor, a black dustbin bag had fallen over and spilled
several pairs of stained panties.

   But the other room was a store room, and this was MINE.  Where was
Anastasia's room?  I was IN IT!  Anastasia was gone.  She had been
disappeared.  It was true, everything I had feared was true!

   Numbly, I climbed into the bed and pulled the covers over me.  Then I
began to shiver.  I was still shivering when Nurse came in and took my
temperature.

   "You poor girl, you're freezing.  Here, I'll fetch you some more
blankets and a hot drink.  You should have rung your bell instead of
suffering in silence.  Really, what are we going to do with you?"

   She squeezed my hand and left the room.  Was this a nightmare?  When was
it going to end?

   As I drifted off to sleep, my mind wandered in ever decreasing circles.
Disappearing schoolgirls, disappearing rabbits, the thickness of pieces of
cardboard, their breasts getting bigger and bigger, lighter and lighter ...









   Part XX









   Chapter 58:- Join The Club



   I sat up suddenly in bed, wondering where I was.  My head spun and I lay
back down again.  Gradually, things swam back into focus.  Smegs's bag of
cookies, porky scratchings and a huge orange was still on the bedside
table. The black bag of panties was on the floor: someone had tied the neck
of the bag closed since last night.  Or was it last night?  What was the
time now?  The heavy curtains were drawn and not a chink of daylight came
through.  I could vaguely remember getting out of bed, yesterday morning,
was it, or this morning; and looking for Anastasia.  I hadn't even found
her bedroom.  The bedroom which had been Anastasia's was the one I was
occupying.

   Nurse wouldn't tell me what she had done with Anastasia.  Nobody had
even seen the girl since the day I had rubbed something on to her breasts.
I had reason to believe that the girls of the First Form Sexual Chemistry
Group had been to see Anastasia before me, and had rubbed her breasts with
something else.  In theory, it had been FatLite, their new product intended
to alter the structure of fat in the breasts to make it lighter.  Had it
made her disappear?  No, girls didn't disappear.  Not in the
nineteen-nineties.

   Corinne had thrown a spanner in the works with her suggestion that
FatLite wouldn't work the way we had hoped and expected.  It was designed
to leave the breasts at their original size, with about half the weight. 
Corinne said the breasts would retain the same weight, but they would
expand to twice their original volume.  Distinctly worrying, that sort of
thing.

   And here I was, the Sexual Chemistry Teacher, coming along after the
girls of the First Form Sexual Chemistry Group; rubbing Anastasia's breasts
with another unknown substance, thinking it was FatLite.  From what
Anastasia had told me, I was mistaken: it was something else entirely, an
experiment that had gone wrong.  Throw it away, she had begged me.  Too
late for that, I had splurged it all over the girl's breasts, and the fact
that both of us had derived considerable pleasure from the process was
little consolation.

   As the girls' Sexual Chemistry Teacher, I couldn't believe I had done
that.

   Lying there in bed, thinking all these things, I was feeling worse and
worse.  My problems had not gone away.  They were all still right there.

   Somewhere outside the bedroom, I heard voices, getting closer.  One was
little more than a mumble, too quiet to hear what it said, or whose voice
it was.  But I heard the reply, all right.  Nurse could never be accused of
not speaking up for herself.  Especially as by now she was just outside my
bedroom door.

   "...  think she'd been wandering around this morning.  I went in to her
room and she was freezing cold, poor thing.  I gave her a hot drink with
something in it, and she's been asleep all day."

   "What was she doing, wandering around?" That was Corinne!  Corinne was
talking to the nurse.  I lay still, not breathing, and listened.

   "I think she was probably looking for Anastasia.  She keeps asking me
where she is, and what I've done with her.  I keep telling her, Anastasia's
shouldn't really be seeing visitors, the way she is at the moment.  I've
moved her to another room, next to my office.  Just her and her pet
rabbit."

   "Is she all right, the girl ...?" The voices were fading away into the
distance, obviously Corinne was being escorted off the premises.  The outer
door opened.

   Even Nurse's voice was too far off to hear clearly now.  "Mumble mumble
mumble ...  but definitely, definitely pregnant!  Still, what else would
you expect?" And Nurse laughed, a chilling sound.

   But I heard that word all right.  Pregnant!  Great joke, Nurse.  The
door closed and footsteps squeaked past the door.  They stopped and I heard
the rattle of the door handle.  Quickly, I feigned sleep, slowing down my
breathing.  I sensed rather than heard Nurse come in, and I imagined her
standing over me, looking down.  I never even heard her leave, and when I
went through the motions of stirring and opening my eyes, she had gone.

   Lying there in the darkness, I mulled over this latest disaster. 
Pregnant!  Poor Anastasia.  Still no more than a child, she had obviously
been holding out on us all about some moment of weakness a few weeks ago. I
sent my mind racing back over the events of the recent past.  Was there a
time when Anastasia might have been intimate with a boy, perhaps while
under the bizarre influence of some chemical contamination?

   Probably, I thought.  It could have happened on any one of half a dozen
occasions.  Tears of frustration and self-pity trickled down my cheek and I
couldn't even be bothered to wipe them off.



   **********

   "What do you mean, Shona?  YOU stole Chauntaille?"

   "I didn't steal her, Pan.  I took her out of her cage.  It was cruel,
what you were doing to her.  She was all sticky."

   "It was an experiment.  You want us to try these chemicals out on
*girls* before they are ready for use on humans.  We have to use animals.
And Chauntaille wasn't suffering.  She was enjoying it.  She used to purr
when we rubbed cream on to her."

   "Rabbits don't purr.  That's cats.  Rabbits get angry and growl."

   "She wasn't growling, she was happy.  And you stole her.  What did you
do with her?" Pansy sneered.  "I suppose you let her out in the fields to
get eaten by foxes.  Chauntaille was a tame rabbit.  She wouldn't know how
to survive out there in the wild.  She'll be sticky now, all right, poor
thing, if she hasn't been eaten; bones, skin and all!"

   Shona went pale.  She was close to tears again.  "I didn't let her go,
Pan.  I gave her to Anastasia."

   "You gave her ...?  But Anastasia's sick."

   "I gave her to Darren to take down to Nurse.  He said he was going that
way.  Apparently he goes down to the sick quarters a few nights every week,
and he said he'd take Chauntaille with him and give her to Anastasia to
keep her company.  He was even going to find a little cage for her to go in
Anastasia's bedroom."

   "I don't know what we're going to do.  Someone has to tell Suzanne. 
She'll go mad.  And Miss Gruntworthy, she knows, too.  We'll have to tell
her.  She'll be really worried about that poor rabbit, you know how she is
about helpless dumb animals.  If only you'd said something, Shona."

   "I wanted to, but you didn't give me a chance.  It's Suzanne's fault,
she never listens to anything I say."



   **********

   "She never listens to anything I say," I complained to Smegs.  This time
it really *was* morning.  She had opened the curtains.  "I ask her
questions, but she doesn't listen.  She's a nurse, she's supposed to be
sympathetic and considerate.  She's a caring professional."

   "Haven't you sorted those knickers yet?" Smegs said crossly.  "Two days
ago I gave you them and you've done nothing.  God knows what they'll be
like by now ..." She untied the top of the bag and staggered back a few
paces.  "Bloody hell," she said.  "I thought so.  They've gone off.  I
wonder if we can charge an extra ten per cent ..."

   I don't think she'd been listening.  Why did nobody ever listen to a
word I said?  I wondered for a moment about telling Smegs about Anastasia's
pregnancy, but her mind was concentrated upon soiled panties and making
money.

   There was a tentative knock on the door and Suzanne's head appeared.

   "Can we come in and visit you, Miss?" The two cousins came into the
bedroom.

   "I was just leaving," said Smegs, hoisting the sack over her shoulder.
"I'll take these.  If you can't do these simple little things for me, I'd
better not bring you any more.  You don't really deserve to be allowed to
sort panties, Shan.  I'll see you later."

   "Phworr.  Was that panties in that sack?" Suzanne fanned the air with
one of the paperback books Corinne had brought me.

   "I've got a cold.  I can't smell anything," I said.

   "You're lucky, Miss." She perched on the bed.

   Pansy stood awkwardly on the other side.  "Did you hear about
Chauntaille, Miss.  The rabbit," she amplified, seeing my momentary
confusion.  "She's in with Anastasia, Miss.  So she didn't escape under the
door, Miss."

   "They'll be company for each other," I said.  "Anastasia will need some
company in the next few months.  After that, she'll have all the company
she needs.  Have you visited her yet?"

   "No, Miss.  Nurse won't let us.  She threw us out last time.  That's why
we didn't ask her if we could visit you.  We just wanted to tell you about
the rabbit, to save you worrying and everything."

   "Thank you, Pansy!  I'm glad you came.  There's something I have to tell
you as well.  I want you to promise me you won't tell anyone.  It's a
secret.  Can you keep a secret?"

   "Ooooh, yes, please, Miss," whispered Suzanne, clapping her hands
together and bobbing up and down on the bed.  I watched her breasts wobble,
something they did quite magnificently.  It was what Suzanne's breasts did
best.

   "It concerns Anastasia," I said.  "She's the same age as you, isn't
she?"

   "No, she's eleven and a half, Miss.  She ages older than us."

   "Well, in some ways she's older.  In one way, you see, she's become a
woman.  Anastasia's pregnant.  She's going to have a baby!"

   There was a stunned silence.

   "Gosh!" gasped Pansy at last.

   "Golly!  agreed Suzanne.

   "Is she very pregnant, Miss?" asked Pansy.

   "As far as I know, Pansy, she's completely pregnant.  You either are or
you aren't."

   "But when, Miss?  Is she going to have a baby?  Will she have it before
she leaves school, Miss?"

   "At a rough guess, she'll be having it in about seven months and a bit.
That's normal."

   "I wouldn't, Miss!" Suzanne was adamant.  "If I was pregnant, I'd wait
until I left school and got married."

   My brain wasn't quite up to all this.  "Now, remember what I told you.
You aren't to tell anyone.  You have to keep the secret and let Anastasia
break the news herself."

   "Yes, Miss." Suzanne was on her feet and desperately anxious to go. 
"Come on, Pan.  We've got Sex in five minutes."

   "Gosh!  We can't miss that.  Later, Miss!"

   "Later, girls."



   **********

   I came out of the toilets and paused.  Instead of heading back to my
room, I turned left.  Nurse's office was ahead of me, so the room on the
left had to be Anastasia's.  I had to see her, and find out why Nurse was
being so secretive.  A quick look through Nurse's half open office door
showed Darren sprawled in the armchair, his walkman clamped over his ears.
Obviously Nurse was out, and Darren was minding the store.

   Anastasia's door handle moved silently and I opened the door.  The room
was in half light, the curtains pulled across to shut out the sunshine.  In
a cage on a table near the window, a plump rabbit was contentedly nibbling
at something green and nourishing.  Anastasia was sitting up in bed,
looking to see who was coming in.  She beat her hands together in ecstasy.

   "Miss, it's you!"

   "Yes, it's me.  Are you all right?"

   "I'm fine, Miss.  My boobs feel a bit fuller again.  They've been
growing quite a bit.  But you're wearing a nightie, Miss!"

   "Well spotted, Anastasia.  I've had a cold or flu or something.  Maybe I
caught it off you.  Anyway, how are you in yourself?  Have you been sick at
all?"

   "No.  Should I?  I'll try if you like, Miss." Anxious to oblige, she
reached over to her bedside table and picked up a bowl.

   "It's all right.  Just do it if you need to.  Don't put yourself out. 
Did Nurse say when you can come out of here?  You'll have to give the news
to the rest of the girls."

   "The news, Miss?  Oh, you mean these!" She turned back the bed covers
and showed me her boobs.  They seemed to have grown a bit since I had last
seen them.  Not a lot, only about fifty per cent.  "I'm quite looking
forward to showing them these.  They must be nearly as big as Pansy's now,
Miss.  They're nice, aren't they?"

   I had to agree.  They were very nice boobs indeed.  Make the most of
them, I thought.  You'll be getting just as big everywhere else, soon.  By
the time the hot summer weather comes, girl, you'll be carrying more than
just a pair of netballs under your shirt.  "They brought Chauntaille over,
I see." I peered into the rabbit's cage.  She had ballooned since I had
last seen her.

   "Darren brought her in.  He's Nurse's bestest friend, he said.  He
brought the cage as well.  He gave me a hair brush for her, and I got all
that sticky stuff out of her fur.  She's getting horribly fat, Miss."

   I knew how she felt.  "With any luck, you'll be out in a couple of days,
then you can show off your new boobies."

   "Will I need a bigger bra, Miss?" She sounded thrilled at the prospect.

   "I think so, they're very big now.  You'd better get the biggest cups
Clit will let you have.  Tell her about your predicament, and she'll give
you a bra with plenty of room to grow."

   "Oh, Miss.  I'm really looking forward to the rest of this spring.  And
after the summer holidays, when the new girls start, too.  I'm fed up with
being a Junior kid, Miss.  Growing up's ever so much more fun!"

   Well, yes, Anastasia, I thought, that was one way of putting it.









   Chapter 59:- Bouncing Babies



   My mind had cleared a little.  In fact, I felt much better all round,
apart from the odd explosive sneeze.  I sat in bed and peeled my orange,
only breaking one nail in the process.  Then I had a think.  Anastasia was
taking her pregnancy quite well.  She was a resilient child.  Later,
perhaps, it would hit her that she wouldn't even be here at the start of
the next school year, she'd be nursing a little baby.  Time enough for that
when it came.  Meanwhile, Anastasia would be out of the sick bay soon,
holding court among the other Juniors, showing off her expanding boobs.

   Oh, no!  She would be persuading all the others that pregnancy was a
good thing.  Once they found out what caused it, the Juniors would be out
there making babies as if they were going out of fashion.  I knew it was a
mistake teaching these kids about the Joys of Sex.  Even now, Smegs was
lecturing the First Form on the subject of being a Lady in the Living Room
and a Whore in the Bedroom.  Or was it the other way around?

   It was no use, I was going to have to discharge myself.  There was work
to be done, crusading work.  I got up, found my clothes in the bedside
locker, and dressed.  Then gathering up my few possessions, I set off along
the corridor to the nurse's office.  Darren looked up, startled.

   "You ...  you're supposed to be in bed," he shouted.  He still had his
headphones on and had to shout to make himself heard above the music in his
head.

   "I'm discharging myself.  Tell Nurse when she gets back.  I have to get
back to work." And I stormed out, leaving a trail of paperback books and
chocolate chip cookies.



   ********** e Corinne was pleased and surprised to see me.  "Are you all
better?  Nurse said you needed a few more days in bed." She offered me a
cheek to snog, and I planted a wet one on it.  "Did you see Anastasia
before you came out?"

   "Yes.  Poor girl!" I held up a hand.  "Yes, I know all about her."

   "Poor old Anastasia," said Corinne.  "She has all the bad luck that's
going.  How big are they now?"

   "Her boobs?  Oh, pretty huge, for a little kid.  As big as Smegs's,
easily.  But that's hardly the point.  She's going to come out soon, and
she'll be telling all the other girls.  They'll all want the same."

   "Well, it's not as if St Cat's exactly discourages it, is it?  We go out
of our way to provide bigger and bigger bras and stuff for them, don't we?"

   "That reminds me.  I think I'd better warn Clit and Flaps about
Anastasia's next bra.  They need to give her plenty of room to grow."

   Corinne raised an eyebrow.  "Gosh!  She's still growing, then?"

   "Oh yes.  She's got a lot of growing to do, yet.  She's been no time at
all yet.  Anyway, I'm going for a shower, then maybe I'll go and do some
work this afternoon.  What day is this?"

   "Thursday.  Don't catch cold, darling," said Corinne.  "I'll stoke up
the fire so you can get yourself warm and dry."

   She offered me a cheek again and I kissed it moistly.

   "I'll be gone when you get back," she said, " I've got the Third Formers
for Custom Bra Measuring."

   "That's a new subject, isn't it?"

   "I've introduced it.  Not enough is known about the whole question of
fitting brassieres to women.  St Cat's ought to become a Centre of
Excellence for Breast Support.  It shall be my Crusade.  Look, Shannie ...
it's not worth going in to work this afternoon.  Nurse said you ought to be
in bed for the rest of the week.  But since you're out, why not take it
easy for today and tomorrow?  Get dressed, go and see Clit, then come back
and go to bed early."

   "But I've been in bed for *days*!"

   "Not with me, love!"

   Well, that was different, I supposed.

   Another crusade, I thought, as I soaped in between my various body parts
under the hot spray.  It wasn't easy to reach, but I heaved my breasts
aside and directed the spray from the shower head in the appropriate
direction.  I shuddered, realising that this was my first orgasm since ...
God, it was so long ago, I couldn't remember.  I *must* have been ill! 
Wow! That was better.  It was only when I was sitting in front of a roaring
fire in the bedroom that I realised I had forgotten to wash behind my ears.



   **********

   "Miss Gruntwurvy!  We 'eard you was at deaf's door!"

   "I got bored in the sick bay.  I let myself out."

   "Good.  What do you want, anyway?  You're not growing again are you? 
How was the FreeTips?  I tried one round the town on Saturday.  It worked
like a charm!"

   I wondered what she meant by that.  It occurred to me that I had hardly
ever seen Clit with her clothes on.  She looked quite tasty when she was
dressed.  I imagined her with her nipples thrusting out of the ends of a
FreeTips bra, perhaps in a silk shirt.

   "Ooooh, Miss Gruntwurvy!  You've been starved of affection, ain't you!"
She returned my kisses with enthusiasm and skill.  "But how was the
FreeTips for you, you didn't say."

   "Miss Meadowlark borrowed it and it's never been the same since."

   "No, it wouldn't be, would it.  She's been getting enormous.  We fitted
her up with one of her own.  Flaps fancied her!"

   Did she, I thought.  Horny cow, Flaps, climbing all over my Corinne with
her lascivious fingers doing things to her!

   I forced the thought out of my head.  "Anastasia is going to need
another bra," I said, abruptly.

   "I 'eard she was getting bigger.  But she's sick, isn't she?"

   "She's never looked healthier to me," I said.  "But she's certainly
bigger.  And she's going to grow a lot more.  When she comes over for her
new bra, probably Monday, make sure you give her plenty of growing room."

   Clit's eyes lit up.  "Gosh!  We sure will.  If there's one thing we do
well at St Cat's, it's giving girls plenty of room to grow."

   "How about maternity bras?"

   "Is she giving MILK?"

   It was those capital letters again.  "Not yet," I said with regret. 
"But she will.  Is it worth giving her nursing cups on her next ScatBra? 
In your professional opinion?"

   "It depends how much bigger she's going to get.  Tell you what, we'll
give her a good going over, and if she looks suitable, we'll make her our
official tester for the new ScatFeed - the Maternity Bra for the Modern
Schoolgirl."

   "Sounds good to me." I felt a shiver run through me.  Perhaps I ought to
be back in bed after all.

   "Are you all right, Miss Gruntwurvy?" Clit leaned closer and placed her
small hand on my naked breast.  It felt icy cold.  "Here, get your things
back on.  You're freezing.  I shouldn't have undressed you.  But you know I
can't resist those danglers of yours!"

   She helped me into my bra and sweater, and gave me a supportive kiss. 
Then she slipped my panties on and searched for my skirt beneath the
workbench.  She plucked a pubic hair from her tongue and kissed me full on
the lips.  Clit was such a friendly girl, I thought, as I made my way back
across the quadrangle to the bedroom.  I was feeling quite my horny old
self again, although I still had a bit of a temperature.

   The bed was warm and familiar.  I closed my eyes with a feeling of total
relaxation.



   **********

   "I wanted to show her the latest stuff from the doll factory." Smegs's
voice came to me through the fog of sleep.  "I took it down to the sick bay
and she'd gone.  Nobody told me," she complained.

   "She discharged herself," Corinne said, and her voice became louder for
a moment as she looked in my direction.  "I don't think she's quite better
yet, so I told her to go to bed.  I think her temperature is still up.  Can
you leave it for her to see?  What is it, a brochure?"

   "No, it's this." I couldn't see, but it sounded as though they were
sorting through a substantial box of stuff.

   "What a lovely little wheelbarrow," said Corinne.  "And these sweet
clothes, too!  That bra's a bit rude, did you tell them to make one like
this?"

   "I borrowed your old FreeTips and sent it to them.  Well, not yours,
that one of Shan's that you stretched."

   "Ah, that explains it.  I stretched the holes a bit too much and poor
old Shannie's tits just fell out of the ends!  She's so dangly!  It was all
I could do not to laugh at her when she tried it on.  But if that's what a
FreeTips looks like, I don't think I want to wear one again.  It looks
disgraceful!"

   "Yes, it does, doesn't it," agreed Smegs, with considerable enthusiasm,
I thought.  It went very quiet and I was tempted to open my eyes and see
what was happening.  My imagination ran riot instead.  At last, Corinne
spoke, her voice husky.

   "You'd better be going, in case she wakes up!"

   "I suppose so!" There was the faintest rustle of clothing and I heard
items being put back into the package.  There was a little mechanical sound
as somebody picked up the miniature wheelbarrow.

   "Isn't it sweet, with its little silk cushions," said Corinne.  I heard
the door close, and wondered if they had both left the room, to do rude
things to each other in Smegs's room, but then I heard the comforting,
familiar sound as Corinne brushed her hair.  I pictured her in front of the
mirror, the way she always sat, occasionally inspecting her breasts from
different angles, always with approval.

   Then the bed dipped under her weight, and she got in beside me,
carefully, not touching, although I felt the warmth of her body close to
mine.



   **********

   "They let you out, then!  Why are you all wrapped up like that?" Suzanne
prodded at Anastasia with a finger.

   "Don't poke her, Suze, you'll hurt her.  Or him."

   Anastasia looked at Pansy with concern.

   "I still feel cold after that hospital.  It's hot in there.  Nurse says
I've got to keep well wrapped up." She sat on her bed, still huddled in the
enormous overcoat Darren had lent her.  Her face looked like the setting
sun.

   "When are you having it?" Suzanne came close and whispered.

   Pansy sat on the bed.  "What are you going to have?"

   "What are you on about?" asked Anastasia.

   "You're pregnant," Suzanne informed her bluntly.  "Miss said so, and she
knows."

   "She did?  Is that what's wrong with me?  Did she say I'm having a
baby?"

   "Don't tell everybody, they'll all want one," hissed Pansy.  "It's
supposed to be a secret.  Just us and Miss Gruntworthy, we're the only ones
who know."

   "Good," said Anastasia.  "We don't want everyone knowing." Anastasia
thought it might have been nice if Miss Gruntworthy had told *her*, instead
of the rest of the school.  "When am I having it?"

   "That's up to you." Suzanne said seriously.  "Personally, if I were you,
I'd have it straight away, then we could all play with it, and practise
bathing it and everything."

   "Have it at Christmas," suggested Pansy.  "Then when it grows up and has
presents, it will only need one present instead of two."

   "Poor thing," said Anastasia.  "But do I get a choice?  I thought it
took nine months."

   "It used to," Suzanne assured her, "but that was ages ago.  Miss
Gruntworthy says you can have it when you like.  How big are your boobs
now?" She plucked at the collar of Darren's overcoat, but Anastasia pulled
it tighter around her.

   "Same as before," she insisted.  "Why?"

   "Your boobs get bigger when you have babies.  It's all the milk. 
Although you could keep yours the same size and let Shona feed her.  Or
him. You don't want yours to get too big.  They were getting huge before
you got pregnant and went into hospital."

   "I had flu.  That's why I went into hospital.  If I got pregnant, it
must have been while I was in there."

   "You mean you did somebody while you were there?" Pansy seemed to have
been paying some attention during Sex lessons.  "Was it Darren?"

   Anastasia blushed hotly.  "No!" she snapped.

   "I bet it was," Pansy giggled.  "Look, Suze, she's blushing!"

   "Darren only came into my bedroom once a day, to look after Chauntaille.
He put fresh straw in her cage and gave her dinner.  If he made me
pregnant, I'd have noticed."

   "Not necessarily," said Suzanne.  "You don't always know it's happening.
Look at Mary and Jesus."

   Anastasia considered the scriptures and bit her lip.  Somehow, and soon,
she was going to have to explain all this to her mother, and somehow she
wasn't convinced that she was going to swallow the immaculate conception
concept.

   "Chauntaille's had some babies," she said, out of the blue.  "Loads of
them, Darren said.  When they let me out, he was clearing out her cage."

   "What were they, boys or girls?"

   "Rabbits, mostly, he said."

   Suzanne wasn't too interested in rabbits having babies.  They had babies
all the time, unlike schoolgirls.  She tugged at the collar of the coat
again.  "Are you going to sleep in this?  I bet you only want to because
it's Darren's.  Will you marry him?"

   Anastasia looked uncomfortable.  "I don't think so.  You can't get
married when you're eleven.  And stop pulling at his coat." She wrapped it
more tightly around her and folded her arms across her chest.

   "You look ever so big, Staze," said Pansy.  "Just like Chauntaille did.
She got huge.  Maybe you'll have loads of babies, too.  We could all share
them out.  Have one each."

   "They're mine.  I want them all." Anastasia was sweltering in the coat,
but somehow, it didn't seem the right time to display her new bigger boobs
to the other girls.  In the sick bay, talking to Miss Gruntworthy, she had
been keen to show them off, but now she was right here with the rest of the
girls in the dorm, she felt nervous.  What if they laughed at her?  There
was another reason she'd had to borrow Darren's coat.  She was so big now,
her bra wouldn't fit.  It didn't even begin to cover her boobs.  After
trying for half an hour in front of the mirror, she had given up in disgust
and thrown it on the bed.  That was when she saw Darren watching her from
the doorway.

   He had quickly finished putting on his trousers and suggested that she
try and get into her blouse, and when that had been only partially
successful, had given her his coat to cover herself.  She could feel the
blouse straining across her mountainous breasts and knew she didn't dare
take the coat off now.  She would be the laughing stock of the First Form
Dormitory once the others saw her without it.

   Bedtime was going to be awkward.  She would have to wait until the
lights went out, then dive into bed with the coat on.  She could take it
off once she was under the covers.  Until then, she would be slowly
cooking. Morning was another day.  She would cross that bridge when she
came to it.



   **********

   "How heavy are baby rabbits?" Darren asked me seriously.  I clapped my
hands over my ears and tried to back away.  He adjusted the volume of his
personal stereo and repeated the question.

   "I don't know," I was forced to admit.  "Not very heavy."

   Darren seemed unconvinced.  "These weigh nothing at all.  Look at them."

   I had only gone to the sick bay for a bottle of cough mixture.  Luckily,
Nurse wasn't there, but I hadn't expected to get drawn into a conversation
on baby rabbits.  "How old are they?" I asked, fascinated despite myself.
The little things crawled around their mother who looked pretty
non-committal about the whole business.  I suppose rabbits get used to it
after a while, and think it's no big deal.  Humans tend to go over the top
about babies.

   "Yesterday.  Funny thing, though, Chauntaille weighs nothing either, for
her size, and these babies are like polystyrene.  There's something funny
about them.  I always remembered rabbits being quite solid, and heavy."

   I drew the line at touching the repulsive little things, but Darren
picked up Chauntaille and handed her to me.  He was right.  She seemed
practically weightless.  I didn't dare tell him about the FatLite
experiment, but it certainly looked as if it had worked with Chauntaille.

   I found myself wondering if Anastasia's baby would weigh nothing as
well. Would she give birth to a bouncing eight and a half ounce little boy?
Bouncing?  Now there was a scary thought.  She might have a weightless
baby, floating in the air.  He'd grow up without his feet ever touching the
ground.

   Chauntaille showed what she thought of the idea by pissing all over my
hand.  I gave her back to Darren.

   "Just think," he said, rubbing Chauntaille's laid back ears.  "We were
going to have her in a pie until we realised she was pregnant.  Miss
Thunderbolt said to give her to the First Form Sexual Chemistry Group, to
save money on a genuine laboratory rabbit.  She's a funny old thing."

   "Who, the rabbit?"

   "Yeah.  When we first got her, she wouldn't eat a thing.  Must have been
the shock of being caught by Jeremy's dog.  We had to give her milk from a
feeding bottle.  Shona's milk, it was.  I just happened to have a couple of
pints left over in the shed.  I'd hand-milked her the day before.  Young
Shona's a miserable little bitch sometimes, but she gives the best milk I
ever tasted!  Tell you what, Chauntaille thinks so, too!"









   Chapter 60:- FatLite and SuperLite



   It was time for another of those sessions of appraisal.  I seemed to be
having more and more of them recently.

   We had a new substance, called FatLite, which when rubbed into the flesh
of a young woman's breasts, was intended to change fat into a lighter form.
This would be of interest to young women whose breasts were rather heavier
than average.  As a result of trials, we had determined that FatLite worked
on rabbits.  We now had the lightest rabbit in captivity, size for size.

   There was another, frightening alternative: that FatLite would act upon
the fats in the young woman's breasts, and while not altering the weight of
the breast at all, would cause the fat to expand to twice its original
volume.  This would perhaps be of interest to exotic dancers.  Since the
departure of Belinda Balloons and Donna Dumbo from the teaching staff,
there were few if any exotic dancers at St Catherine's High School for
Girls.

   Niggling away at the back of my mind was the thought that another alien
substance, composed of who knew what exactly, when used in conjunction with
FatLite; could cause this very change in its effect.  I had to find
Anastasia as soon as possible.  Only she could tell me what as in the alien
substance, the result of an experiment which went wrong.  She had probably
forgotten already, but we had to go through her notes, and if necessary we
had to carry out tests, mixing batch after batch until we had made a sample
of that same witches' brew.  And when I found Anastasia, the first thing I
had to do was to apologise to her, and confess what I had done.

   Anastasia's being pregnant didn't make it any easier.  We couldn't use
her as a guinea pig - nor even a rabbit - not in her condition.  Not any
more.  Yet we were likely to need a supply of young girls on whom we could
carry out tests; rubbing various combinations of FatLite and other
substances on to their breasts, to see if they stayed the same size and got
lighter, or stayed the same weight and got bigger.

   Fortunately, we had a plentiful supply of young girls.  That was the
only good thing about the whole situation.

   I found Anastasia still in bed.

   "Aren't you feeling well?" I asked her.  "Have you been sick this
morning?"

   "No, Miss.  You keep asking if I've been sick.  I probably can if I
really try." She was willing to give it her best shot.  She opened her
mouth and began to put her fingers down her throat.

   I snatched her hand away.  "Where are the other girls?"

   "Breakfast."

   "You didn't feel like breakfast?  You feel sick?"

   "No, I keep telling you I'm not sick.  I'm starving.  But I don't want
them to see me like this."

   "Like what?"

   She had, I noticed, thrown the blankets off her bed on to the floor. 
She pulled down the sheet.

   "Whose is that coat?  Isn't it Darren's?"

   She nodded.  "He lent it me yesterday evening."

   "No wonder you're hot.  Take it off."

   She shook her head vigorously.  "They mustn't see my boobs, Miss. 
They'll laugh.  Or they'll get mad at me.  Look!"

   And with a quick glance around the dorm to see that no stray girls were
lurking, Anastasia swiftly unfastened the top button of the coat and opened
it, like a flasher.  Two seconds later, she closed it again, leaving me
wondering if I had really seen what I thought I had seen.

   "Fucking Hell, Anastasia!" I said.

   "Ooooh, Miss!" She blushed deeply and bit her lip.

   I should have apologised for my language and my loss of control, but
when I thought about it, I realised that 'Fucking Hell, Anastasia' was just
about right.

   "Your breasts are truly immense!" I said, in an awed whisper.

   "That's why I can't show the others.  What can I do, Miss?"

   "Show me again!"

   She did, for a little longer this time.  No doubt about it, she was, as
near as I could tell, twice as big as she had been before we had rubbed all
that stuff on her.  Corinne was proved right.  So, possibly, was my other
theory about the alien substance.

   "You'd better get up now and come with me, so they won't see you. 
Quickly, they'll be back from breakfast in a few minutes."

   She remembered her own hunger.  "I'm still starving, Miss," she
whimpered piteously.

   "Come to my room and I'll fetch you something from the restaurant.  How
about scrambled eggs on toast, bacon, tomatoes, mushrooms and fried mashed
potatoes?"

   "And toast and marmalade, Miss?"

   "Of course."

   "And a big mug of tea?"

   "We can make our own tea."

   She was out of bed and halfway to the door.  "Isn't this fun, Miss?"
Anastasia was regaining her spirits already.



   **********

   She sat on the narrow bed in my abandoned bedroom.  I had explained to
her about FatLite, as well as I could, and the alien substance which I
should really have thrown away.  She took it quite well, really.

   "Oh, I'm pretty sure we can work out what went into that other stuff,"
she said airily, "it's only one of half a dozen or so things.  All we need
to do is to mix them all and try them out one at a time, with FatLite, of
course, and see what happens.  No problem!"

   "With a different girl each time," I reminded her.  "And some of the
experiments may seem to work, and some may have the opposite effect.  We
might end up with a whole bunch of terribly mutilated girls."

   "With gigantic boobs, Miss?"

   "Certainly, some of them."

   She thought about that for a while.  "They won't mind, then, will they.
I think I'm going to love mine!  But we could always get rid of the really
big ones, couldn't we?  Then when some of the Sixth Form girls have left at
the end of next year, I'll be the biggest girl in the school, won't I?"

   I could only gulp.  "Get rid of them?  You mean ...?"

   "Send them to other schools, Miss.  I want to be biggest, you see!  When
you were rubbing that stuff on my boobs, I decided I like the feeling so
much ...!  Golly, Miss!  And now they're even bigger, they feel like it the
whole time.  I am so horny, Miss, you wouldn't believe."

   To prove it, she rolled on her back on the bed and plunged a hand up
beneath the hem of Darren's coat in search of the core of her femininity.

   "Anastasia," I asked her in a weak voice, "do you really need that coat
on in here?  It's quite warm now I've lit the fire, and nobody will see
you."

   She didn't answer for several minutes.  Finally, she rolled upright
again and sat up.  "What?" she asked, blinking and rubbing her eyes.  Then
she shuddered.  "Fucking wow!" she said, impolitely.

   I let it pass.  She had evidently enjoyed herself.  "Here, let me take
your coat," I said, and helped her off with it.  Without it, she looked
staggering.  She sat there on the edge of the bed, a slight figure, her
glasses still steamed over from her recent powerful orgasm.  In her lap lay
two of the biggest breasts in the whole of St Cat's.

   She stood up and stretched.  She reached for the ceiling with her arms,
standing on tiptoe.

   "Aren't they rather heavy?" I asked her.

   "Not specially, no!  They only feel as heavy as they used to." With a
great sigh, she lowered her arms to her sides.  Her breasts bounced like
two enormously big basketballs.  Wronggg!  Basketballs wasn't the right
word.  Those things would never have passed through the hoop.  They were
far too big for that.

   "You want any more to eat?"

   "No, thank you, Miss.  I think I can last out until lunchtime." Her eyes
lit up.  "It's Friday, Miss.  Can I have extra double helpings of fish pie,
Miss, please?  And spotted dick and custard with extra custard?  And extra
dick, of course," she added as an afterthought.

   That was when something reminded me, Anastasia was eating enough for two
now, of course.



   **********

   "You were right, Cee!  I should have listened to you all along."

   "What's the matter?  Shannie, what do you mean?  What was I right
about?"

   "You said FatLite wouldn't work.  Well, you said it would work the wrong
way round.  I think that's what happened to Anastasia."

   "You mean it didn't make her breasts lighter?  It made them the same
weight ...?"

   "And twice as big.  At least.  She's next door, she's scared to show the
other girls in case they laugh, or in case they're jealous."

   "Come on!  Her friends won't be jealous.  They're enormous themselves.
No!  You don't mean ...?  Oh, you do?"

   "She's not as big as Shona.  But Shona's a big girl anyway, apart from
her boobs.  But ..."

   "Bigger than Pansy?"

   I nodded.

   "Bigger than *Suzanne*?"

   "Yes."

   "Christ, this I must see!" Corinne made for the door to the next room. I
followed her.  Anastasia was sitting back on the bed, wearing only one of
my extra large T-shirts, surrounded by the debris of her lunch.  Her plates
appeared to have been licked clean.  She belched richly as we came in.

   "That's better, Miss.  It tasted much better than it does in the
restaurant, Miss.  Hi, Miss Meadowlark!"

   "Hello, Anastasia," said Corinne, her eyebrows almost reaching the
ceiling.  "You're getting a big girl, aren't you!"

   Anastasia blushed prettily.  "It's some new stuff we tried.  We're going
to try it on some more girls, Miss Gruntworthy says, until we find out what
caused it."

   Corinne looked at me for confirmation of this startling revelation.  I
nodded.  "I'll explain later," I said.

   "Yes, I think that would be an idea.  Is Anastasia going to stay here
for a day or so?"

   "Just the weekend, I thought.  We could tell the rest of the girls she's
gone home for a few days to get over her illness."

   I gathered up Anastasia's plates and dishes.  "We'll see you at
teatime," I said.  "Anything you fancy?"

   "Just what you're having.  And lots of bread and jam.  And cake." She
belched again.  "Please," she added.  Her hand was groping under the bottom
of her T-shirt.  Anastasia was about to play with herself again.

   I dragged Corinne away before she began to get overheated.  "Right,
we'll see you later."

   "Wow, the horny bitch," said Corinne, as we closed the door behind us.
"She has grown, hasn't she!"

   "I told you ...  who's that at the door?  Hello?"

   "It's only us, Miss," said Suzanne, looking round the door.

   "Come in, Suzanne, Pansy.  What is it?  You know you're not allowed ..."

   "It's Anastasia, Miss.  She's disappeared again, Miss.  She was in bed
when we went to breakfast.  We came back and she'd gone.  And she wasn't in
class, and she wasn't in at lunch.  Anastasia never misses her food, Miss.
There must be something wrong."

   Pansy pushed forward anxiously.  "Do you think she's gone off to have
her baby, Miss?"

   "Not yet, Pansy.  Give her a few more months, maybe."

   "She was acting strange last night, Miss.  She wouldn't take her coat
off.  I think she might have had the baby already and it was feeding under
her coat.  That would explain everything!"

   "It might, but wouldn't baby be just a little premature, Pansy?" I would
really have to have a word with Smegs about her Sex classes.  "Leave it
with me, girls.  Go back to your classes, and when Anastasia turns up,
you'll be the first to know." I ushered them out.

   "Well, this is an evening of surprises," Corinne said.  "Anastasia,
pregnant?"

   "'Course she is, but she's only missed one period hasn't she?  What did
Nurse say?"

   "Nurse?  Oh, you mean Nurse?  She never told me anything.  Why should
she?  I asked her about Anastasia, and she said her breasts were getting
huge, even by St Cat's standards.  She never mentioned her being pregnant!"

   But I had heard her!  I was in bed and listening, and Nurse had told
Corinne, my bestest friend and lover, that Anastasia was pregnant.  Now
here was Corinne blankly denying it.  Why?

   The kitchen door opened and Anastasia appeared.  She edged her breasts
one at a time through the doorway, sticking her tongue out in
concentration. "Was that Suzanne, just then?"

   "Yes.  She was wondering where you were.  I told them you'd turn up
soon."

   Corinne spoke to the girl.  "Did Nurse say when your baby was due,
Anastasia?" she said.

   "Nurse didn't say anything about a baby, Miss." Anastasia looked
confused.  "Pansy and Suzanne said I was pregnant, but they don't seem to
know much about babies.  I always thought it took nine months.  Suzanne
wanted me to have it straight away, and Pan wants me to wait until
Christmas.  Chauntaille had hers.  It didn't take her nine months, but I
suppose she is a rabbit."

   "Ooooh, she had her babies, did she?" Corinne was jumping around
excitedly.  "Nurse told me she was pregnant.  Oh, I wish I could have seen
them.  We used to have rabbits at home."

   "Darren will show them to you," said Anastasia.  "He looks after her,
cleans her cage out and everything."

   Their voices rattled on in the background.  A horrible thought was
slowly dawning on me.  I felt the blood drain slowly from my face, to be
replaced by boiling water.  Was it possible that I had made a ghastly
mistake?



   **********

   Smegs always knows what to do.  Sometimes she gets things wrong, in
fact, she usually gets things wrong, but at least she does something.

   As soon as I had taken a medium-sized picnic hamper in to Anastasia and
watched her wipe her hands on a towel and start demolishing her evening
meal like a plague of locusts, I excused myself and went to Smegs's door.

   She looked surprised but pleased to see me.

   "Where's Cee?" she said.

   "She left a note for me.  It said: 'Gone to see Chauntaille's babies
over in the sick bay.'"

   Smegs's eyebrows shot up and she took a pace or two back, stepping on a
naked girl who gave a startled yelp like a puppy.  Sitting down, Smegs held
out her arms and the girl, a Second Former, climbed on to her lap and
sucked her thumb, looking up at me with eyes like saucers.  Smegs bounced
her on her knee for a while before sending her off with a pat on the bottom
to continue her task of sorting panties.  I watched the girl idly for a few
moments.  The thought occurred to me that she had been sorting panties
before she thrust her thumb in her mouth.  I felt slightly ill.

   "You had babies in the sick bay?" enquired Smegs when she realised I
wasn't about to give any further information.

   "Me?  I had flu.  The rabbit had babies.  Chauntaille is a rabbit."

   "Baby wabbits?" The naked Second Former suddenly became animated and
stood up, wriggling.  She had no breasts to speak of.  "I love baby
wabbits, Miss, let me see the baby wabbits, Miss, please, Miss, please!"
She was pawing at Smegs who looked at her with a fond smile on her face.  I
felt even less slightly ill.

   Smegs looked at her watch.  "Off you go then, Pippa.  Have your evening
meal first, and wash your hands...!"

   The warning was too late.  Pippa had gone.  Smegs gathered up a dank
pile of school clothes and dropped them outside the door.  "She'll be back.
She always forgets to dress.  Well, what brings you here, anyway?"

   "It's Anastasia.  You haven't seen her?"

   "No.  But she'll turn up.  She always does.  Pansy said she'd
disappeared again ..."

   "No, not that.  She's in my room.  My old room.  But you haven't seen
her?  She's ...  her boobs have grown again.  It's a long story, but it's
to do with FatLite."

   It took twenty minutes to tell her, and she was still not entirely clear
at the end of the tale.

   "You mean you need a dozen or twenty girls to do these tests on?  All
with similar but not excessive breast development?" She sucked in her
breath noisily.  "That's a tall order.  It's practically the entire Second
Form!"

   "Could we borrow them, though, do you think?  Some of them won't be too
badly changed.  One or two will get big.  Quite a few will get very big. 
And the rest will get fucking enormous."

   "You say this FatLite stuff works?  Have you used it on Anastasia?"

   "Anastasia was a fuck-up.  I used this other stuff and it made her at
least twice the size but the same weight.  Once we find out what that stuff
was, we can ...!

   "We can sell it!" Smegs leaped up and began to stride around the room. I
fell in love with her all over again as her long legs powered her into
every corner of the bedroom.  She screeched to a halt, towering above me.
"This could be the biggest thing since Boob Juice.  Think!  We have two
substances, FatLite, which you rub into your breasts to make them lighter
but the same size.  A boon for the heavy-breasted girl.  And we have
another substance, what can we call it?"

   She began to pace again.  I watched her open-mouthed.  She spun round.

   "Let's call it SuperLite.  We rub SuperLite on the breasts after using
FatLite, and instead of them getting lighter, they stay the same weight but
grow enormous.  A boon for exotic dancers, as you so rightly put it.  No
surgery, no implants, and far bigger than implants could ever be anyway. 
We could have dancers with genuine one hundred inch busts!  They'd be
billed on the circuit as two or three hundred inches.  Triple H!"

   "Why?"

   "The American public demands ridiculously huge numbers, Shan.  And it
cannot grasp the first principles of bra sizes.  Don't rock the boat.  How
big is Anastasia anyway?  Can I see her?"

   "She's shy, Smegs.  Let her get used to it for a day or so, then we can
show you.  When can we start doing the tests?  We can do it up here, away
from the rest of the girls."

   "Time is of the essence, Shan.  The sooner we get this show on the road,
the better.  Monday morning?"

   "Moggie will be back on Monday.  What will we tell her?"

   "She'll be all right when she realises how much this will earn St Cat's.
I can see it now..." Smegs's eyes gazed into the misty distance.  "Boost
those boobs without extra weight - SuperLite!  Not tested on animals!"

   "What about Chauntaille the rabbit?"

   "One rabbit?  Come on, Shan!"

   "But it's worse than animals.  It will have been tested on GIRLS!" s
"The animal rights crowd aren't bothered about people.  Second Form girls
might be a bit marginal, but they're still people, basically.  It won't be
a problem.  We haven't tested SuperLite on pretty furry animals with big
eyes that face the front, so we're okay!"

   "Monday then?" I was overwhelmed by Smegs's enthusiasm.  "You'll get the
girls?"

   "I'll have them up here in my room by ten on Monday morning.  I'll get
you twenty.  You can rub them all with FatLite then.  Meanwhile, all the
other samples of the second chemical can be mixed by Tuesday morning.  Say
two girls to each sample and two with plain FatLite and nothing else?" She
clapped me on the shoulder and I staggered forward, choking.

   As I say, Smegs always knows what to do.









   Part XXI









   Chapter 61:- Creaming The Seconds



   It was a tight squeeze in Smegs's bedroom.  I think, on reflection, that
we should have found somewhere with a little more space.  There were girls
everywhere.  Twenty Second Form girls take up a lot of room, even stripped
naked.  Smegs, sitting on her dressing table with her long legs drawn up
underneath her, was taking up little of the available space, but with
Corinne, Anastasia and me in the room as well, there was a great deal of
breast around the place.

   "Perhaps we should have seen them in smaller batches," I shouted to
Smegs across the seething masses of slightly pungent naked Juniors.

   "No problem," she said.  "Tomorrow, when we do them with different
samples of Super, there'll only be two of them in here at a time.  But
today, while we're doing them all with the same stuff, it makes more sense
to have them all in together.  It won't take long anyway."

   Corinne was stirring a large tub of FatLite with a wooden spoon. 
Anastasia watched her, occasionally taking a deep sniff of the mixture.  I
thought she would have learned her lesson about that by now.

   "You want some of this, Shannie?" Corinne was in playful mood, her eyes
shining as she brandished her spoon.  "I'm sure we've got enough to do you
as well!"

   "You can get away from me with that stuff.  My tits are staying exactly
the way they are!"

   Anastasia scowled.  I think she disapproved of teachers behaving in a
flippant manner while in charge of serious chemicals.  The chemicals had
made a serious difference to Anastasia, certainly.  Her breasts were little
short of incredible.  Apart from the bovine Shona, she was comfortably the
most extravagantly developed girl in the Juniors, a grouping which included
such girls as Pansy, Suzanne and the remarkable Lim-Bim-Xuoyung Ng.

   "Can I start creaming, Miss?" she pleaded with me.

   "In a minute, Anastasia.  We need to get the girls laid out first. 
Ready, Miss Mountains?" I asked formally.

   "Ready, Miss Gruntworthy!" Smegs clapped her hands and the Second
Formers fell silent.  It was almost eerie.  "Right, you lot!" The girls
pricked up their ears.  Like the Good Shepherd, Smegs knew them all by
name. She directed them swiftly and they moved busily around the room. 
Eight of them lay across the bed, sideways.  Six more went into the kitchen
and disposed themselves on the various work surfaces.  The other six lay on
the floor.  All of them lay quietly, looking up at us with big, round,
trusting eyes.

   "Okay, girls, let's go," I said, and Corinne dipped her hand deeply into
the tub of FatLite.  She disappeared into the kitchen.

   Anastasia carefully removed the wooden spoon from the tub and handed it
to Smegs, who sniffed at it and rubbed the cream between her fingers. 
Already, moans of delight were issuing from the kitchen, where Corinne was
doing her stuff.  Eagerly, Anastasia took two handfuls of the cream and
approached the bed.  She had to approach her eight victims from the same
side of the bed as their heads, and even then her breasts slumped down to
cover their faces while she glopped cream on the firm young breasts of the
girls.

   "Are we going to get as big as you?" one of them asked.  I didn't hear
her reply.

   It was my turn.  Why had I drawn the short straw and been allocated the
six girls on the floor?  I was the least mobile.  Grunting, I approached
the first girl and gave her a good creaming.  It felt surprisingly
pleasant, rubbing cream into the girl's firmly conical boobs.  She seemed
to enjoy it almost as much as I did.

   Smegs was enjoying the scene, too.  It was like a kind of orgy, with
naked, gleaming girls stretched out on every level surface, all moaning in
twenty-part harmony.  Corinne was making little noises, too, I could
recognise her voice from the kitchen.  Anastasia was giggling and
squeaking, and her glasses were opaque with steam.  I know I was making a
lot of noise as well, but I always do at such times.  Perched on her
dressing table, Smegs sat with her legs apart, fingering herself.  I
glanced up at her.  Her eyes were closed and her mouth was open in a silent
howl of ecstasy.

   Gradually the noise died down.  Girls began to bestir themselves and sit
up, looking round at each other as if expecting to see bigger boobs
starting to develop.  No harm in hoping, I thought.  Hope springs eternal
in the human breast, after all.

   Smegs was still in a trance.  I shook her leg with vigour, and she came
back to reality.  "Oh, hi!" she murmured, giving herself a final rub down
there.  Then she remembered her position.

   "Okay, girls.  You are free to go!  Don't forget to put your clothes on.
Remember to look at the rota on the notice board for your time tomorrow
morning.  You will all get rubbed with a different cream, and we will send
for you in ten batches of two each.  Like Noah's Ark.  Thank you all!"

   The girls filed out, giggling and jostling each other playfully. 
Anastasia scraped the surplus cream off her hands on the edges of the tub.
Corinne flopped down on the bed, her breasts rebounding heavily.  She had
the look of having just been comprehensively fucked.

   "That's some good stuff!" Smegs exclaimed.  "I rubbed a little bit on my
fingers from the spoon.  As soon as I touched my puss, I started coming!"

   "You what?"

   "I rubbed some on my pussy.  It felt tremendous.  So I used all the
cream there was left on the spoon and rubbed it all over my pussy lips. 
And my clit," she added, looking slightly ashamed of herself.

   "But we don't know what effect it might have on you down there. 
Nobody's tried it yet."

   "More fool them, in that case!  It felt ...  it was indescribable! 
Wow!" She shuddered hugely and looked round for the spoon again.  I think
she wanted some more.

   "I don't think it was a good idea, Smegs," I told her.  "Anything might
happen to you."

   "Can I try it, Miss?" Anastasia looked up at me eagerly.

   "Absolutely not!" Corinne grabbed the tub of cream away from the girl.
"Miss Gruntworthy is right, anything might happen.  We'd better see wait
and what happens to Miss Mountains.  She might have to go to hospital. 
Anything might happen to her!"

   I looked at Corinne, who seemed to be regretting not trying the cream on
herself.  I took her hand to give her resolution and strength in this
moment of temptation.  I was sorely tempted to grab a handful of the cream
and slop it on to the yawning entrance to my own aching love tunnel.  With
sadness, we all watched Anastasia replace the lid on the tub and wipe her
hands on a paper towel.

   "Nurse ought to look at your pussy, Megan," said Corinne.

   "I'll keep an eye on it," I offered sportingly, and felt Corinne tug at
my hand sternly.

   Smegs looked chastened.  The effects were wearing off.  She stood up and
looked around for her knickers.  She wouldn't wear a clean pair until she
had made sure her current ones were throughly soiled.  She found some and
stepped into them, pulling them up almost to her armpits.  She lowered her
skirt regretfully, like saying goodbye to a dearly loved friend.

   "Aaaargh!" yelled Anastasia, suddenly.  She leaped over to the dressing
table and grabbed the wooden spoon.  Smoke was pouring off it, and as she
snatched it up, it burst into flames with a dull thud.  Anastasia rushed
round the room like a considerably overdeveloped Olympic torch-bearer,
before disappearing into the kitchen.  There was a loud hiss as she plunged
it into a bowl of water.  Drifts of steam wafted through the doorway.

   We were all shaking with shock as Anastasia came back in, holding the
blackened spoon.

   "Shit!" she said, her voice shaking.  "That hasn't happened for a long
time!"



   **********

   "Right, what have we got, Anastasia?"

   She showed me an array of tubs, smaller than the large one we had used
for the initial application of FatLite to the twenty girls of the Second
Form.  Each tub was boldly labelled with a single letter from 'A' to 'K'.
There was no letter 'I'.  Smaller labels covered in tiny girlish
handwriting were stuck to each tub.  Anastasia was being extremely
methodical and careful.

   "The 'K' is plain hand cream," she said.  "The first eight are slightly
different variations on the cream you rubbed my boobs with, Miss.  One of
those will make the girls' breasts get bigger, probably at least twice as
big.  Maybe more than one.  The other one, 'J', is the antidote to FatLite.
That's a brand new formula, we read Pansy's notes and mixed it specially.
If it works, we'll tell Pansy about it afterwards.  That's about it, Miss."

   "Good, Anastasia, you have done very well.  You will get an excellent
grade for this."

   "Thank you, Miss.  Just one thing, Miss.  If the antidote works, perhaps
Miss Mountains ought to rub some on her pussy, Miss." Anastasia blushed
crimson as she said the word.  She was not just mentioning a pussy, but a
pussy actually belonging to a *teacher*!

   I put my arm round her shoulders, watching those enormous lightweight
breasts bouncing wildly against each other.  She watched them, too, and
grinned up at me.

   "We're ready, then, I think." I stood up and tickled Anastasia under the
chin.  She giggled.  "Let's go and see Miss Mountains.  The first girls
will be here in five minutes.  Grab that first tub of cream, Anastasia. 
Let's go!"



   **********

   There was no sign of Smegs in her room, although the first two girls
were already in the bedroom, sitting on the bed, tickling each other and
giggling.  They shot to their feet guiltily as we came in.  One of the pair
was almost a foot taller than the other.  They looked at each other and
sniggered.

   "Where's Miss Mountains?" I asked them.

   "She just slipped out, Miss.  She said she wouldn't be long."

   Strange, I thought.  I wondered where Smegs could have gone, when she
knew we were due to start creaming the girls.

   "You'd better get your tops off, you two." Anastasia and I stared at the
girls as they removed their blouses and effective school bras.  They
weren't giggling any more.  Their breasts seemed fuller somehow. 
Presumably their fat content had become lighter and they had sort of puffed
up.  Certainly Smegs had done a good job in providing twenty girls of such
similar breast size.  Relatively, at least.  They were still on the large
side for twelve year olds.  But even these two, with their great difference
in height and build, had almost identical boobs.  The shorter one seemed
much bigger-breasted, but only because by comparison with her overall body
size.

   Smegs came in, out of breath.  "Ah, you're here!  All ready to cream?"

   The two girls lay down obediently on the bed.  Anastasia looked at me
for the signal, then took a handful of cream and liberally plastered it on
to the breasts of the taller girl.  She rubbed it in with generous sweeps
of both her little hands.  Her eyes closed, as did those of her willing
victims.  Smegs watched them, her tongue moistening her lips.

   The girls began to writhe on the bed, thrashing their hips from side to
side and groaning loudly.  Anastasia showed them no mercy, pressing down
lightly on their breasts.  The taller girl had tiny, sharp-pointed nipples,
the smaller one had thick, dark nubs which made me want to chew them. 
Those of the other girl I wanted only to flick and tease with my tongue,
and blow cool air on them.

   I had to wipe the sweat off my brow.  Was it hot in this room, or was it
just me?  It wasn't me, I decided, it was Smegs as well.  She was walking
up and down, not in her usual striding gait she used when she was planning
and thinking, but in a nervous little twitch, a pace or two one way, then
the other.  She was keeping her thighs pressed together.  Smegs was
seriously hot.

   Her voice wobbled as she told the Second Form girls to get up and get
dressed.  They rose shakily from the bed, reaching out to touch the tips of
Anastasia's fingers as they got up.  Even then, they were unable to leave
the younger girl alone, touching any part of her they could reach.  They
dressed in a disjointed, shambolic manner, like animated rag dolls, before
reluctantly moving toward the door, dragging Anastasia behind them.  She
looked over her shoulder at me imploringly.  Was she begging me to take her
away from the two girls, or desperate to be allowed to go with them?

   I grabbed her and hauled her back, slapping at the two girls' grasping
fingers.  With tears in their eyes, they went out into the corridor and
immediately fell to the floor in a passionate embrace.  Anastasia's nipples
were embarrassing even to look at.  I had to turn my face away from them.
Smegs was staring at them with longing, too.  Poor Anastasia was never
going to get through the day without becoming traumatised.  Nine more pairs
of girls, eighteen more pairs of tits to massage.  It was not fair to
impose such a strain on a young girl.

   Smegs was on the verge of volunteering to help with the creaming, and so
was I.  We sent Anastasia off to fetch her next tub of cream.  She took tub
'A' with her and departed.  Smegs and I took advantage of her absence.

   "Christ, I'm bursting," she murmured into my mouth.

   I rubbed myself against her.  "So am I, darling!  Hold me!  Touch me! 
Fill me with your fingers!"

   "Oh, Shan, it's been so long without you.  My loins are on fire!"

   Anastasia came back in and coughed politely.  Smegs and I broke apart
and began to study interesting items in different parts of the room. 
Anastasia sniffed like a dog, and Smegs looked at her as if thinking of
suing for breach of copyright.  She had every reason to sniff.  It was
stuffy in the bedroom and heavy with musk.

   A polite knock on the door heralded the arrival of the next pair of
girls.  They were less disparate than the first pair - who were still
making love on the floor outside - both newcomers were slender girls of
around Anastasia's height.  Again, Smegs and I watched spellbound, as
Anastasia began her rubbing.  Perhaps she was getting better at it, because
both girls were thrashing and moaning helplessly within ten seconds.

   When the tumult died down, a burst of polite coughing alerted Smegs and
me.  We removed our tongues from each other's throats and stepped apart
with some reluctance.

   Somehow we got through the next pair of girls and broke for lunch.  Six
frantically horny Junior girls were now lying in a tangled heap on the
floor outside Corinne's and my room.  Anastasia and I crept past them with
a feeling of sadness and went inside to await the arrival of the picnic
hamper containing Anastasia's lunch, which she happily shared with me, both
of us sitting cross-legged on the bed.

   "Funny thing, Miss," she said in a voice muffled by steak and kidney
pudding, three vegetables and gravy.  "When I came in for the second batch
of cream, the top was loose on a couple of the tubs.  I know I put the tops
on securely, I remember clearly."

   "You mean someone came in and opened them?"

   "Not just someone, Miss.  I think it was Miss Mountains!  She was out of
the room.  She could have waited for us to leave, then nipped in and opened
the tubs up."

   True enough, she could.  But Smegs?  Why?  What reason would she have to
do that?

   "Which tubs did Miss Moun ...  which tubs were opened?"

   "'C' and 'D', Miss.  Both of them are unknown attempts at finding the
mixture that made me grow, Miss." She had a sudden idea and slipped off the
bed to look into the two suspect tubs.  She brought them over and showed
me. One was untouched, but there was the impression of a finger in the one
marked 'C'!

   "Oh, God!  Why would anyone want to dip their finger in there?"

   "Please Miss.  If it *was* Miss Mountains, she might have rubbed it on
her pussy, Miss!  To mae it better after rubbing FatLite on it.  She was
after the antidote, but got the wrong one."

   "Don't even think it, Anastasia!  Miss Mountains is not the sort of
person who would do such a thing!"

   Or was she?









   Chapter 62:- Growing Doubts



   Moggie sent for me while Anastasia was still anointing the last of the
guinea-pig girls.  I reluctantly made my way past the pile of eighteen
entangled girls who had unwittingly rolled as far as the brink of the
stairs, and five minutes later knocked on Moggie's door.

   "What have you been up to?" She came round the desk and looked me up and
down.  She even reached a suspicious hand up my skirt.  I felt my loins
come to the boil as she expertly evaded the crotch of my knickers and
sampled my moisture.  "Bloody hell, Shan!" she remarked, inspecting her
dripping fingers.

   "We've been creaming the Second Form girls.  You know, the second part
of the experiment Smegs told you about, SuperLite?"

   "If I'd thought it was going to be as exciting as it obviously is, I'd
have come over and lent a hand.  Are there many more left to do?"

   "Anastasia's rubbing the last two now."

   "Pity!" She regained her composure with an effort and a deep sigh.  "How
long before they grow, or not, as the case may be?"

   "Anastasia took a couple of days.  It's quite slow acting, apart from
the Uncontrollable Horniness.  When I left, there were eighteen girls
rolling around on the floor sucking each other's clits and nipples as if it
was going out of fashion."

   "Maybe it is," said Moggie sadly.  Her eyes misted.  She pulled herself
together.  "Did Anastasia get the Uncontrollable Horniness as well?"

   "She got horny when I rubbed her, and so did I, and from what she was
saying, she needed to play with herself for the whole of the time her boobs
were growing.  She's getting better now, she says.  Or worse, depending
which way you look at it."

   "Splendid.  But when we examine the girls to assess the results, we
won't do it in Megan's room.  Far too small, especially if an orgy breaks
out.  There's much more room in here.  Let's make it ...  " she ran a
fingernail down a page of her diary with a faint scratching noise, "let's
make it Wednesday morning.  Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen can look after
classes, with Darren and the disco lad.  Invite Corinne, tell Megan, and
Anastasia had better come along as well.  Is she as big as Megan said she
is?"

   "Bigger!"

   "Excellent!  Splendid young girl.  Always has shown promise.  If ever a
First Form girl deserved a ninety inch bust, it's her.  Fine!  Make the
arrangements, and I'll get Jeremy to clear some of the junk out of here. 
Wednesday at nine sharp, then!"



   **********

   All through the next day, crowds of girls gathered at the foot of the
stairs which led up to the staff quarters.  They peered up into the
forbidden territory with mournful expressions on their faces, hoping for a
glimpse of the twenty Juniors afflicted with the most virulent outbreak of
Uncontrollable Horniness since records began.  From time to time, the pile
of girls rolled dangerously close to the top of the stairs, and a concerted
gasp went up from the onlookers, but it seemed that the lovers were being
looked after by a greater power from above.  They never quite went over the
edge.  If they had, they would have rolled clear to the bottom and possibly
not even noticed.

   Incredibly for Junior girls, they failed to notice the passage of five
mealtimes.  Heedless of night and day, they snogged, slurped, sucked,
licked and fingered each other until five minutes to nine on Wednesday
morning, at which time Smegs threw a bucket of cold water over them.

   They broke up into half a dozen separate groups, still locked in
passion. Two more buckets brought them to their senses, and they sat in a
dripping group at the top of the stairs, wondering what time it was.

   Clearly, some of them had developed much larger breasts than previously.
Some of them hadn't.  As they looked at each other for the first time in a
day and two nights, the haves began to beam and the have-nots began to cry.
Their clothes had long gone: torn off, shredded and hopelessly mixed up. 
Those of the girls who had grown would never get into their blouses again
anyway.  Moggie was going to hate it, but all twenty of these girls would
need completely new school uniforms.

   I placed the Junior Statistics Group on Stand-By At Immediate Readiness
and alerted Clit and Flaps to be ready with a range of new ScatBras. 
Anastasia struggled back into Darren's overcoat, now a noticeably tighter
fit than before.  Then we threw blankets over the shoulders of each pair of
girls and escorted them through baying crowds of girls to Moggie's office.

   I saw the First Form Sexual Chemistry Group pointing at Anastasia.  Even
in Darren's bulky coat, she was clearly an extremely well-developed girl. A
face in the crowd, glaring at me and me alone, was Victoria, a snarl of
menace distorting her incredibly beautiful features.

   All around us, bodies swayed, trying to touch the hem of the girls'
blankets.  It was an unnerving demonstration of the ability of the
Uncontrollable Horniness virus to spread itself to other girls.  As we
herded the score of horny Juniors along, we could hear moaning breaking out
among the watchers.  The girls at the centre of the whole business were
becoming restive again, too.  Smegs's cold water treatment had chilled
their ardour, but they were fast warming up again.

   "They're still growing I think," I whispered to Corinne as we followed
the girls through the quadrangle toward the elaborate fibreglass portico.
"Anastasia had stopped being horny long before this.  We'll probably find
them still getting bigger this time tomorrow."

   "Ooooh, I hope so," Corinne said, her eyes aglow.  She was obviously
getting pretty randy herself.  I toyed with the idea of slipping away with
her for an hour or so in bed, but I didn't want to miss the fun and games
in Moggie's office.

   We all filed in and the girls stood in an uncertain group, still
shrouded in their blankets.  Anastasia flung off Darren's overcoat and cast
it aside with a flourish.  Good to see her regaining her confidence.  Her
breasts actually stretching my oversized T-shirt, she walked among the
girls, plucking the blankets from their shoulders and tossing them in a
heap on the ground.  Then she produced a pile of large cards, each marked
with a big, bold letter from A to K.  There was no letter I.  The cards had
a loop of string attached, and she hung them round the girls' necks, until
each was identified with the formula with which she had been treated.

   The scene was set for one of Moggie's Grand Entrances.  Right on cue,
Miss Labia flung open the door and Moggie strode in.  She walked slowly to
her desk, eyeing up the twenty stark naked girls, each clad in nothing but
a label.  Then she turned.

   "Christ, Anastasia, you are fucking gigantic!" she gasped.

   Anastasia blushed prettily.

   "Thank you, Miss Thunderbolt," she said with a little curtsey.

   "Thank *you*, Anastasia.  And a very big thank you to all of you girls.
I see some of you have grown.  We will now examine you all most thoroughly
to see which is the correct formula for maximum growth and which is the one
for optimum lightness." She glanced round the group of Juniors.  One or two
had started crying again.  Moggie's voice softened.  "Those of you haven't
grown as much as the others, don't worry.  Once we know which formula to
use, we can make you as big as the others!"

   A hearty cheer rang out from at least a dozen deep young throats.

   "All right, ladies," Moggie waved to her teaching staff.  "Let's get
this show on the road before these girls catch pneumonia."



   **********

   "Did you see her.  She's still wearing that coat of Darren's." Suzanne
ran a thoughtful hand across her breasts.  She had felt unaccountably
tingly all over when the group of blanketed girls had passed.

   Pansy recognised the feeling.  She even had a name for it.  "I felt all
horny just then.  Did you feel the same?"

   Suzanne nodded.  "In here, yes.  And down there in my thing."

   "So did I.  It was while those Seconds Formers were going past.  Some of
them looked big, as well."

   "As well as what?"

   "As well as Anastasia," said Pansy.  "You noticed, surely?  She's huge
under there.  I still think she's carrying a baby round under her coat,
feeding it."

   "She can't be feeding it all the time.  It would burst.  And you can't
bring a baby up in the dark either." Suzanne suddenly looked apprehensive.
"I hope she hasn't got huge tits all of a sudden."

   "That coat looks even bigger than it did the other day, when she
wouldn't get out of bed.  They could never be THAT big, could they?"

   Could they?

   Suzanne looked down at her own mighty chest.  Surely Anastasia wouldn't
get bigger than these.  She wouldn't dare!

   Would she?

   "Where were they taking them, anyway?" Suzanne looked at her cousin.

   "Miss Thunderbolt's office.  That's all there is through there.  The
only room big enough for all of them.  There's just Miss Labia's, and the
two staff rooms, and Miss Thunderbolt's.  I wish we could spy on them."

   "We can," Suzanne hopped up and down, her feet only leaving the ground
by an inch or so, while her breasts bounced at least a foot.  She stopped
and clutched at herself.  "We can," she said again.  "We can look through
the window."

   "It's upstairs, Suze.  How are we supposed to see through the window?"

   Suzanne dragged her cousin round the corner and pointed to the building
on the other side of the quad.  "From up there.  On the roof!"

   "But it's miles away.  Even if we could get up there, we'd never see
anything."

   "We would.  Listen ...!"



   **********

   "Couldn't we have found something lighter than this fucking telescope,
Suze?"

   "Keep going, Pan.  Only another fifty steps."

   She arrived, panting, on the roof and waited while Pansy climbed the
last of the iron fire escape.

   "Hey, great view from up here, look!"

   Pansy's breath was coming in great rasping gulps.  She set the great
brass telescope down on the flat roof of the science block.  "That's
fucking heavy."

   "You're always moaning.  I had to carry the tripod, remember." Suzanne
began setting up the apparatus, while Pansy sat down heavily by the
parapet.

   "It's freezing up here," she complained.

   "I told you to wear your coat.  Heeee, look at your nips!  You're right,
it must be cold." She giggled and applied her face to the eyepiece. 
Singing softly to herself, she adjusted the focus, then slowly traversed
the telescope across the building opposite.

   "What can you see?" Pansy shivered.

   "The staff room on this side.  Miss Rhys ap Llewelyn Owen's in there. 
What's she doing?  Strange.  That's a funny way to do it." She tracked
round to the left.  "Ahhh," she said infuriatingly.

   "What is it this time?"

   "Old Labia.  She's shaving her legs.  I think it's her legs.  I think
she's shaving, anyway.  Looks like an electric shaver she's got.  Golly! 
Ouch, I bet that hurts!" She panned left again.

   "What can you see?" Pansy demanded after what seemed like minutes of
silence.

   "I can see them.  The girls are all stripped off and Miss Thunderbolt is
looking at them.  Hey, some of them have grown.  Wow!  Talk about grown! 
Hey, look at that!  OH, NO!"

   "I can't, you've got the sodding telescope.  What's happening?"

   Suzanne didn't reply.  She stood up and stepped away from the
instrument, shaking her head.  She slumped into a sitting position and
buried her face in her fingers.

   "What is it, Suze?" Pansy recognised her cousin's dismay.  She scrambled
to her feet and peered into the telescope.  The focus swam before her eyes
until she adjusted the eyepiece.  And the image leapt into startling
clarity.  It was Anastasia, in an extra large T-shirt.  No doubt about it.
No wonder Suzanne looked so flabbergasted.  Anastasia was gigantic.

   "Is it really her?" Suzanne asked dully, not raising her head from her
hands.

   "Yes, it's her all right."

   Suzanne stood up like an automaton.  "We'd better go down.  It's
freezing up here."



   **********

   "What's your name, girl?" Moggie addressed one of the largest of the
girls, a delicately-boned creature like a fragile porcelain doll with
enormous knockers.  A card with the letter D hung round her neck, resting
on the almost horizontal upper slopes of her breasts.

   "Paulette, Miss Thunderbolt."

   "That's a nice name, Paulette.  How do you feel?"

   "They're a bit strange, Miss Thunderbolt, but they're not heavy.  And
I'm not as horny as earlier." She blushed deep red.  One or two of the
other girls, reminded of their recent horniness, began to moan softly. 
Smegs identified the culprits and silenced them with a snarl.

   "They're very big, Paulette, and very nice, too," smiled Moggie.

   Paulette blushed prettily and Moggie passed on down the line.  The next
girl also wore a letter D.

   "Zandra, isn't it?" said Moggie.

   Zandra blushed prettily.  "Yes Miss Thunderbolt," she piped.

   "Great tits, Zandra."

   "Thank you, Miss!"

   The assessment continued.  At last, Moggie was satisfied.  Six very
busty girls were selected and stood in a group by the window.  Ten others
ranged from slightly bigger to pretty huge.  The other four had not changed
noticeably at all.

   Anastasia wrote the details of each girl against her list.  She looked
worried.

   "What's the matter, Anastasia?" I asked her.

   She furrowed her little brow and showed me the list.  "Look!"

   I studied the tiny writing.  No doubt about it.  All but two of the
biggest girls were from one or other of the experimental group, the ones
rubbed with variants of the unknown chemical.  Fine so far.  So had some of
the other, less developed girls.  The four girls with no increase at all
had used formula B and formula J.  And formula J, I remembered, was the
antidote to FatLite.  Excellent!  But Anastasia was tapping her pencil
insistently on the bottom line.

   "These two, letter K," she whispered urgently.  "They're enormous.  The
biggest of the lot.  But they were given plain hand cream!"

   I studied the two girls.  Unaware of our interest, they were engaged in
animated conversation with the rest of the very big girls.  Their cards
clearly carried a letter K.  No doubt about it.

   "You're sure, Anastasia?"

   She went red and started to swell up.  She thought I didn't trust her.
Straight away, I placed a conciliatory hand on her shoulder.

   "Sorry, love.  I'm sure you're right.  Hand cream it is, then!"

   I glanced away.  A movement had caught my eye.  Just for a split second,
I thought I had seen two little girls on the roof of the science block. 
They appeared to be carrying something.  I stared, but there was no sign of
them any more.  I must be hallucinating.  Probably the effect of all these
Sexual Chemicals.

   I glanced back again.  The girls were getting restless.  They had begun
to touch one another intimately.  It was easy enough for them, being
completely naked.  Their little hands reached out, pawing experimentally at
each other's breasts.  Little murmurs of delight sprang from the three
separate groups, which were drifting toward each other, starting to mingle.

   Moggie was deep in conversation with Smegs, probably about money. 
Corinne was looking from one to another of the enhanced Juniors, as if
making her personal choice.  She licked her lips and edged closer to them,
and they accepted her into their touchy-feely circle without question.  I
wanted to join in, too, but Anastasia seemed want to talk about the various
formulae.

   Her voice droned on, getting more and more boring and technical.  I
nodded and muttered something appropriate whenever she stopped talking.

   "...  so we'll do that, then, Miss, shall we?"

   "Oh, what?  Yes, I think so, Anastasia.  Good idea."

   "I'll go and do it now.  Before the girls get back to the dorm." Off she
went.  I thought she'd never go.  I drifted at high speed toward the group
of naked Juniors where Corinne was holding court.  They hung on her every
word, still touching each other gently.  I joined them and felt their hands
start touching me.  They were such friendly little girls.  Things were
escalating.  The level of conversation had risen several points.  Suddenly,
two of the girls hurled themselves into each other's arms, their open
mouths meeting with a soft squelch.  Without a word, the others paired off
immediately.

   I was left with Corinne, which wasn't the end of the world as far as I
was concerned.

   "God, I'm so Uncontrollably Horny," she sighed.  "Take me to bed,
darling!"

   "Golly!" I said, at a loss for words.  Her lips fastened on to mine. 
That was when I had a feeling that someone was watching.  I opened my eyes.
We were surrounded by snogging, panting Juniors, but beyond the crowd,
Smegs was gazing at me.  Moggie was still talking at her, but Smegs was
preoccupied.  She had her hand up her skirt.  The sight of the girls
getting it on again must have been having its effect on her.

   The first of the pairs of girls had fallen to the carpet without
breaking their kiss.  They were joined by two more, then the other sixteen
followed in a rapid cascade.

   Moggie had finally noticed the bizarre goings-on.

   "You girls!  What on earth are you all doing?  Get up at once!  This is
the headmistress's office.  Stop it!" They ignored her magnificently. 
These girls were hungry for love.  Having missed the previous five meals,
they had every reason to be hungry, but for now, they were more than happy
to eat each other.  A swift calculation told me that twenty times
sixty-nine was 1,380.

   Moggie was already on her hands and knees, butting her way in to the
orgy.  Five of the girls immediately turned their attention to her, tearing
her clothes off in a quite disrespectful manner.

   Corinne was dragging me away.  Smegs was headed for the door, signalling
with her thumb.  It was time to get out of here.

   We opened the door and Miss Labia hurtled in, off balance.  She sprawled
headlong and was taken in hand by three randy Juniors.  Within seconds, she
was nude.  I took a quick glance back at the melee of bodies.  I knew
Moggie and Miss Labia were in there somewhere, but they were
indistinguishable from the Juniors.

   We tiptoed out.









   Chapter 63:- The Hand Cream Girls



   "Before you get into bed, you two ..."

   We stopped and stared at Smegs.  She looked uncomfortable.  She was
twitching her bottom about and scratching herself.

   "What's up, Smegs?"

   "It's my pussy," she admitted.  "Remember when I rubbed the FatLite on
it, before the spoon caught fire?" Smegs blushed deeply.  "I tried to get
some of the antidote cream to rub on it.  But Anastasia's writing was too
small to read.  I opened a couple of the tubs, but they smelled the same.
So I took a finger-full and rubbed it on.  It made me itchy and horny, but
nothing else as far as I can see." Poor Smegs.  She was obviously really
uncomfortable.

   "Poor old Megan," Corinne said.  "I've probably got something that will
cool it down for you." She disappeared into the bedroom and came back with
a small jar.  "Here you are.  Cool your pussy off with some of that.  Keep
it for tonight, I'll have it back in the morning."

   "Oh, thanks, Cee!" Smegs took the jar and hurried away, bandy-legged. 
Corinne and I clung to each other for a while then plunged into the
bedroom. Within seconds we were both naked and diving beneath the cool
sheets.

   "I don't know about Smegs's red-hot pussy," I said.  "I could do with
some of that stuff to cool mine down.  What did you give her?"

   "Oh, nothing special.  Just some hand-cream!"

   "Oh, that's all right then.  I thought it might have been ...  hand
cream?"

   "Yes.  That's what I said."

   "Oh, no.  Corinne!"

   "Ooooh, Chauntaille!"

   "No, not that!" I struggled free and sat up in bed.  "If Smegs puts that
hand cream on her pussy, she'll get..."

   "Get what, Shan?"

   "I don't know," I wailed.  "But the biggest of those Second Form girls?
The ones with the really huge tits?  They were the ones who were rubbed
with FatLite ...  and plain hand cream!"

   "Oh, shit, Shannie!"

   "Oh, Cee.  What have we done?"

   "Whatever we've done, we've done it.  The way Megan ran into her
bedroom, she'll have plastered the whole of that jar on to her puss by now.
What's done's done!"

   We both lay back.  Poor old Smegs.

   The interconnecting door to the kitchen opened and Anastasia came into
the bedroom.  She had a towel wrapped round her neck.

   "Oh, hi, Miss!  Just going for a shower.  Could we get a key for my
door, Miss?  It will save me coming through all the time, disturbing you."
And singing a happy little tune, she went out, the door banging shut behind
her.

   "Shit, we'll never be able to make love until she comes back," sighed
Corinne.  "Let's have a cup of coffee."

   I followed her into the kitchen.  The door to my old bedroom was half
open.  I peered inside.

   Anastasia had certainly made herself at home.  One wall was plastered
with huge posters of what I could only assume were groups of musicians. 
Each group looked unnervingly similar: four or five young lads, one
terribly handsome, one quiet and swarthy, one cuddly, one tiny and one ugly
as sin.  My old bed had a new duvet cover, in the form of a Union Jack.  I
had seen it before somewhere.  The wardrobe door was ajar, and Anastasia's
clothes were spilling out.  None of them will fit her, I thought
irrelevantly.  Except that bra.  An obscenely large-cupped bra was slung
casually over the top of the wardrobe door.

   What was she doing?  The girl had moved all her goods and chattels in
here.  A large teddy bear had commandeered the bed and was staring amiably
at me from the pillow.  I backed out, bumping into Corinne.

   "Oof!" She gasped.  "Your fat arse, Shannie.  What's up?"

   "Anastasia's moved in.  All her stuff's in there.  Surely she doesn't
think she can move out of the First Form dorm into the staff domestic
quarters?"

   "It looks as if she's already done it," said Corinne, going to the door
and looking in.  She pranced over to the posters on the wall.  "Ooh, look,
Take That!"

   "Take what?"

   She looked at me with disbelief.  "Never mind," she said, and she
followed me out and closed the door.

   "What are we going to do?" I spread my hands wide.

   "Somebody must have given her permission to move in, if you didn't. 
Moggie wouldn't have done that, would she?"

   "Moggie does some strange things, but she always tells us what she's
done.  Oops, she's coming back."

   "You have to ask her, Shan.  Find out who gave her permission.  Ask her
now ..."

   "I daren't ...!"

   "I will, then!" Anastasia came in, towelling her hair.  Corinne took her
wrist and the girl looked down in surprise at her hand.  "Anastasia, did
Miss Thunderbolt give you permission to move in next door?"

   "No, of course not!" She giggled.  "It was Miss Gruntworthy.  It's only
until I've had my baby."

   Corinne looked at me and shrugged helplessly.

   "Baby?" I said.  "You mean you *are* pregnant?"

   "You said I was!"

   "Nurse said you were.  She told Miss Meadowlark."

   "Excuse me!" Corinne was indignant.  "She did not!"

   "But you *said* I could move in.  I can't live in the dorm, not with
boobs this size.  They'll all be horrible to me.  Now you're trying to
throw me out." She looked at me for a moment, tears filling her eyes, then
she ran out into her bedroom.

   Corinne just looked at me, then breathed out slowly.  "Wow, Shannie,"
she said.  "What have you done this time?"

   "I don't know," I wailed.  "What's happening?  What can I do?"

   "I can't help you.  You've got to go in there and break it to that poor
child that she has to go back to the dorm and move her stuff out of here.
The sooner the better.  Go and get it over with."

   I slunk in next door.  If Anastasia had been lying on her bed cuddling
her teddy bear and bawling her eyes out, I might have been able to manage
it.  She wasn't.  She was standing silently, gazing up at the largest of
the posters on the wall.  She was in profile, silhouetted by the light from
the small window.  Her dressing gown lay on the bed and I picked it up.

   "You'd better put this on, love, you'll freeze." I placed it over her
shoulders like a cloak.  She said nothing.  The dressing gown failed to
cover her breasts.  "This is a horrible mix-up," I said, placing an arm
round her waist.

   "I cried when Take That broke up," she said, speaking for the first
time. She hadn't taken her eyes off the poster.  "I was ever so sad, 'cos I
wasn't going to hear them again.  Ever."

   It dawned on me that she was talking about the group of boys in the
poster.  "These things happen, Anastasia," I said, soothingly.  "There's
always ..." I squinted at the smaller poster, trying to read the name at
the bottom.  "There's always E17.  Or ...  or," I struggled to think of
another group.  Inspiration came to me.  "There's always Oasis!"

   Anastasia looked at me as if I had crawled out from beneath a stone. 
"Oh, yuck, Miss!"

   At least she was talking to me.  I cuddled her more firmly.  "Anastasia,
you know when I said you could move in here ...?"

   "It was only until baby came, Miss.  But now there isn't a baby at all.
How can I tell the girls that, Miss.  They were looking forward to having a
baby about the place.  They'll be rotten to me.  I'll still have to go to
classes with them, but I can't go back in the dorm.  I'll run away if you
do that.  I'll be a sex slave.  You can't make me stay in the dorm, Miss.
I'm not the same as the others!"

   She clung to me, crying at last, tears flooding down her face to splash
on to her boobs.  I stroked her hair, patted her shoulders, guided her to
the bed.  "Lie down, darling.  Have a little sleep.  Everything will be
better.  We'll work something out." I handed her the teddy bear.  "Cuddle
teddy," I suggested.

   "I'm nearly twelve, Miss," she said, shocked.  "Teddy is a bag to keep
my nightie in.  He's got a zipper in his arse, look." She demonstrated the
teddy bear, unzipping his bottom with a strangely apt sound.  Her nightie
was inside the bear, now unzipped all the way up his back and looking sorry
for himself.  "I don't wear the nightie any more.  My tits are too huge. 
But he's not a toy, see?" I felt let down somehow.

   "You can have one of my nighties, or Miss Meadowlark's.  They'll fit you
nicely, with room to grow.  Come in later and we'll find you something. 
Make it later, before bedtime."

   "Why, are you and Miss Meadowlark going to fuck?  It's all right, Miss.
I won't disturb you.  If I had the key to that other door, I wouldn't need
to keep going through your room."

   "I'll find a key for you, Jeremy will have a spare."

   "So I can stay, Miss?" Anastasia's eyes, still shining with tears,
suddenly lit up and her face filled with joy.  "Oh, Miss!  I can!  I'm
staying!"

   How do I get myself in these situations?



   **********

   "Done?  Is she leaving?" Corinne looked up at my face and her jaw
dropped open.  "What have you done?"

   "She's not exactly leaving.  Not straight away, at least.  Well, not at
all, actually.  I'll get her a key for the other door so she won't bother
us in here.  And I'll explain to Moggie that Anastasia's staying over here
for a while, and why."

   "That ought to be interesting," said Corinne, innocently.  "Why is she
staying, Shannie?"

   "She's scared to go back to the dorm with those tits.  If she's bigger
than Pansy and Suzanne, she says they'll hate her."

   "They could always make her smaller," Corinne suggested, "once they get
Shrink perfected.  It would be a good incentive for them to perfect it,
after all.  Or, hey, why not!  You could make Pansy and Suzanne bigger so
they won't need to be mad at Anastasia any more.  You won't need to make
them much bigger, they're both pretty huge already ...!"

   She caught sight of my face.

   "It's all right.  Only a joke!"

   "I wish you wouldn't joke about such things, Cee.  Somebody might hear
you." I jerked my thumb in the direction of Anastasia's room.

   There was a knock on the door.

   "If that's those First Form Sexual Chemistry Group kids again, I'm going
to throw them down the stairs," I growled, and yanked the door open.

   Smegs came in, looking worried about something.  She stood looking
around her, uncertain what to say.  She even took a pace or two in several
directions, stopping short and spinning round.

   "Smegs!  Stand still a minute.  You're making me giddy." She stopped,
and started chewing on her fingers.  I'd never seen her like this.  "What's
the matter?"

   "It's my pussy!  You know I had this itch after I put the FatLite cream
on it?  Just before the spoon caught fire?"

   "Yes!" I snapped.  The spoon catching fire had obviously made a big
impression on Smegs.

   "Well, Corinne gave me the hand cream to cool it down a bit." That was a
delicate way of phrasing it.  "So I rubbed a little bit on, and it felt
nice.  I got one of the girls to rub some more on it, and it felt even
better."

   "One of the girls?"

   "A Second Form girl.  Not one of the FatLite girls.  Just a pantie
sorter, nobody really."

   "Oh, good!"

   "Anyway, she rubbed a handful of the cream on to me, and I came
literally like I have never come in my life before!"

   "Oh, Smegs!"

   "Yes!  And I let her rub me a few more times, and it just kept getting
better and better.  I thought, this is all right!"

   She began to pace around again, until I grabbed her arm.

   "We meant to tell you, but it was too late.  The girls who grew most
were the ones who had FatLite, and after that, they had ordinary hand cream
rubbed on their boobs.  So that's what made you horny.  It's the
Uncontrollable Horniness, in spades.  Has it worn off now?"

   "It's still there, in the background, kind of thing.  If I touched
myself, I'd be off again.  But ...  what you said about those kids being
the biggest?  The hand cream girls?  Have you any idea what might happen if
you rubbed the stuff on your pussy instead of your tits?  I mean, not the
Uncontrollable Horniness.  More like ...  the size?"

   "We haven't tried.  You're the only one who has ever tried it." I
studied her face.  "Oh, no!  Smegs, you don't mean ...?"

   "I think so," she said.  "Things are bigger than I remembered."

   "Things?"

   "Those things, yes.  And that thing, too!"

   "Golly, Smegs.  Can we see?"

   She hoisted her skirt.  Corinne crawled to the edge of the bed.  From
that position, her face was no more than inches away from the scene of
Smegs's latest enhancement.  A little too close, she realised, and backed
away a foot or so.  I got down on my knees and took a closer look myself.

   "Is it any bigger, Shannie?" asked Corinne.  "You're more familiar with
it than I am."

   "It seems to be.  Her labia are fatter and they're getting quite dangly,
too." I probed with a finger.  "Bloody hell, they are, too!" I tugged at
the lips and they stretched most generously.

   "Shan ...!" Smegs's voice carried a warning.  "Please, no!"

   "And her clit, look, Cee!"

   She looked.  I touched, and Smegs jumped almost to the ceiling.  "SHAN!"

   Smegs had certainly been right about one thing.  It had only taken a
touch to set her off again.  Well, a touch, a bit of a tug here and there,
and just a little lick.  We watched Smegs as she subsided in a quivering
heap on the rug before the fire.  Such things are better left undescribed.
But having said that, such things make an excellent spectator sport.  By
the time Smegs was approaching her tenth orgasm, Corinne and I were joining
her, in spirit if not in body, on the bed.

   "God, you lot are so noisy," yelled Anastasia, to make herself heard
over our screams.  "What's a girl have to do to get any sleep round here?"









   <end part XXI>