The St Cat's Puffies
by Some Sort of Dog
With invaluable assistance from the Team
Dedicated to Bo
Part VII
Chapter 19:— It's Competition Time
SOMEONE WAS pounding on the bedroom door. Jeremy groaned and withdrew.
"We can't even have a quiet fuck without being interrupted, these days. Can't you keep the girls away from your bedroom, Shan?"
"Come in!" I called.
"No!" Jeremy clutched at the sheets feverishly, trying to cover himself. Too late. The door was flung open and a tornado came in.
"Headmistress!"
Angelica was already tearing off her clothing as she skidded to a halt beside the bed. She looked at Jeremy with concern, chewing at her lip and touching herself in various places at various times.
"You've met Jeremy, surely? Angelica Grimbeau, this is Jeremy, Jeremy, this is..."
"We've met, Shan," Jeremy's voice was strangled. He had succeeded in covering his manhood with the sheet, but he had still not completely detumesced. In fact, he still had a raging hard-on. The sheet was throbbing. I do believe the filthy bastard had the hots for Angelica.
Mind you, I myself was starting to froth, just watching her standing there with her scarlet latex skirt in her hand, her lime green panties positively creaking under the strain of that 41¾ inches of bum and hips, and that black silk blouse hanging straight down from the crests of those wonderful breasts. Breasts which I observed were still bouncing slightly.
"Angelica's got a problem with her JD's," I pointed out, and Jeremy nodded his head more or less in sync with the pulsating of his cock-shaft. "Is that why you came in? Did you see Clit about them yet, dear?"
"No!" Her voice sounded hoarse. "I came for a..." She looked at Jeremy, then back at me, jerking her head toward the door.
"You want him to go? How strange! Sorry, Jezza, mate. Looks like you're non grata. Some other time, maybe? Angelica prefers girls to boys, you see."
He got up and backed away. The door was still open, recovering from the shock of Angelica's entry. Without taking his eyes off Angelica, he reversed out into the corridor and disappeared. I decided not to worry about the sheet: it was horribly wet and sticky and we could always replace it later.
"Now, then, darling," I said, patting the bed next to me. Too late. Angelica's paralysis had worn off miraculously. She was all over me like a demented Hoover. One of those that sucks up water.
It was something like half an hour before I could get my breasts back out of her clutches. I still hadn't managed to get her blouse off, let alone her brand new prototype bra. But I took advantage of my superior weight to bear Angelica's not altogether unwilling body to the bed. Giving her a nipple to occupy her mouth, I got to work on her gushing nether regions with one hand, leaving the other one free to sort out those blouse buttons. It took both hands to get the bra hooks loose. It was tight because it was so new, I supposed. Then it was off.
And I saw why it had been so tight.
Fifty-three inches, my fat arse! Eagerly, parting my lips, I lowered my head to take one of those deliciously huge puffed-up morsels into my mouth. If it would fit. It looked as big as a ripe peach.
"Ah, so this is what you get up to!"
"Cee!"
"We thought you'd be in here!"
"Smegs!"
"A fine friend you turned out to be!"
"Cee, I can explain!"
"Don't bother."
Mercifully, Corinne didn't sound too upset. It's not easy to sound upset with your face buried in a juicy cleavage. My one regret was that it wasn't mine.
Anyway, any further words were drowned out by a loud gurgling, hissing sound. Smegs was giving Angelica the benefit of two simultaneous cans of whipped cream.
"Is she asleep now?" Corinne raised her face and looked up at me.
"Yeah. Poor girl must be exhausted. I suppose Uncontrollable Horniness does that. It builds up after a while, and catches up with you."
"It took two hours." Smegs licked the last of the cream from Angelica's navel. She studied it for a while. "Anyone for a drop more?"
"Not for me, thanks."
"No, I've had sufficient, thank you."
"I'll just have one last squirt," said Smegs, spraying a dollop of cream into the same area and replacing the cap of the can with a decisive click. "Nobody wants to join me?" She didn't give us a chance. Down she went with a lapping noise like feeding time at the boarding kennels.
"I suppose you're going to have to grow her again?"
"Just a little bit. How far are we away from an antidote to the Uncontrollable Horniness, Smegs?"
She finished lapping and licked carefully all over Angelica's belly before replying. "It's not going too well. It could be another week or more."
We all knew what that meant. I stroked the swell of Angelica's outrageously puffy breast. "These things might start to get out of hand by then. We're having to grow her every ten hours at the moment, and the interval is coming down the whole time."
"So by the weekend...?" Corinne asked the question on all our minds.
I nodded. "She'll be down to every two hours or so. And once you get to that kind of frequency, you can get runaway growth. She could..."
"Don't say it, Shannie."
"I must. She could..."
"Shan, no!"
"Yes! She might suffer explosive growth."
"Oh, God, not that. Not Angelica!"
"Remember Goofy?"
They nodded their heads in silence.
"I'll cream her this time," I said, reaching under the bed for a large white tub. "Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra Plus2. It's a shame to get the girls out of bed just to do this." And I dolloped two great handfuls of the stuff right where it would do most good.
"Don't use too much," Corinne warned.
"Better too much than not enough." I worked it into the softly plump moons, and worked down the sides. Gosh, they were big now! Angelica stirred slightly but her eyes remained closed. "She can sleep here tonight. I'll find somewhere to curl up."
The other two looked reluctant, but they got up and left.
"See you in the morning."
"Night!"
Presumably they were off to share a mattress somewhere. They were holding hands in quite a meaningful way.
I covered Angelica delicately with the duvet, and found a blanket for myself. Then I felt someone watching me, the way you sometimes do. And two huge eyes in a mischievous face peered out of the bed covers and grinned at me.
"I thought they were never going, Headmistress! Get your lovely big fat butt over here and give my titties a good rubbing!"
"You were awake all this time?"
"Of course! And trying not to giggle. It feels re-eely re-eely good when you rub that cream on me, but it tickles, too."
I thought fast. If Angelica had been awake, she would have heard all our whispering about the Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra Plus2. She would know about the risk of explosive growth. She would know what it was for!
"You really love your little games, Headmistress, don't you?"
"Games?" a chill had descended on my loins. I had to do a panty check. Oops, no panties. "What games?"
"All that shit about the cream you've been rubbing on my boobies, pretending it's to make them grow!"
"Oh, those games..."
"Yeah. As if!"
"As if?"
"Cream doesn't make boobies grow!"
"It does! I mean, it doesn't. It doesn't?"
"If it did, I'd be huge by now, with all the cream you've been rubbing on me since I came here."
"I suppose so," I admitted unhappily.
Angelica regarded me steadily, her big brown eyes unblinking. "I grow all the time!" she said softly.
"You grow? All the time?"
That's right. I'm a late developer. I s'pose I'm growing a bit fast at the moment, but that's only to be expected. My mom has huge boobs. And all my family. Until now, I've been the smallest. But, Headmistress..."
"Yes?"
"Don't stop creaming me, just 'cos I know about your little game of make-believe. It feels jus' great!"
"Game of make-believe?"
"Yeah!" She giggled, and everything wobbled marvellously. "Yeah, Headmistress, rub me with Grow Cream Whatever. I never heard such a name as you call that stuff! You English!"
"Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra Plus2," I reminded her. The tub was on the bed, a plain white plastic container.
Angelica eyed it lustfully. "Use it all, Headmistress. I want you to use it all on me tonight. Give me the biggest boobies in the whole world!"
My spleen can only stand so much. It launched into a dance sequence like something out of Forty-Second Street.
It just goes to show how wrong you can be about the effects of Uncontrollable Horniness. Uncontrollable Horniness does take it out of people, but not the people who are Uncontrollably Horny. By seven the next day, I felt like a wrung-out dishcloth. My clitoris, if you will excuse the expression, felt like a peeled carrot.
By contrast, Angelica was clearly set to go for another eight hours with undiminished verve.
I watched her dressing in the light filtering through the window.
"Wow, Headmistress. That cream certainly seems to have worked. I'm starting to really tingle now!"
Was it the first application of Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra Plus2 that had done the trick, or the fifth? The tub lay on its side in the corner. I would have to get Pansy to send me up some more.
Meanwhile, tingling or not, Angelica was puzzling how to get herself into her brand new prototype bra. She wasn't familiar with ScatBra technology.
"Come over here," I said, feeling the familiar shiver in my loins. She floated across the room, strong bare legs reaching right up to her rather pre-enjoyed-looking lime green panties. Nothing else, apart from her bra, which was hooked on but dangling round her waist.
"I don't know how to work it," she pouted, bringing me crashing back to the matter in hand. "I never had a real big bra before. Golly, Headmistress, even Sally Chung knows how to put on a ScatBra." She perched her bum on the edge of the bed, radiating heat like a stove. Heat and funkiness. Her lips moved as she sang a few words to herself, " She's young, she's hung, she's real low-slung — Sally-Sally-Sally — Chung Chung CHUNG!"
Fight it, Shannie! Think of England! Doggedly, I gave her directions. "Bend forward from the waist, and let them dangle into the cups. Like that. Oops! It needs the adjusters opening up. I'll show you..."
I tried, but it's not easy threading a needle in boxing gloves. That was how it felt. In the end, unable to watch me fumbling any longer, she took the bra off me and deftly opened the adjustment out to its fully-large setting.
This time, her breasts filled the cups with only a little bit of flesh bursting out of the tops and sides.
"How's it look?" She went in search of the mirror.
"Nearly big enough," I muttered helplessly, both hands now out of sight beneath the bed covers. "Woo-woo-WOO!"
She looked at me as if debating whether to come over and ravish me again. The decision evidently went against the motion. She continued tugging and heaving at the bra cups, trying to get everything away out of sight. "I look such a mess," she concluded, picking up her scarlet latex skirt from the floor.
"Woo-woo-woo-woo-WOOWWEE!"
Her hips were so magnificently broad, her waist seemed minute by comparison. She held up the black silk shirt doubtfully, then shrugged her arms into it. She got a couple of the buttons done up, but the top five wouldn't even go near.
"Woo-woo-woo-woo-WOOOOFFF!" Splwoosh! I was chewing all ten fingernails at the same time. They were really tasty.
"I'd better go see Miss Clitress again," she sighed, turning this way and that before the mirror, trying to find the most flattering angle. "She'll be mad at me, won't she?" She bit her lip apprehensively.
"Woo-woo-woo," I agreed.
"I wish we had time to cream my titties once more," she breathed, coming close to the bed and hunkering down fragrantly. Rubber, cream, sweat and hot moist girl. "Maybe later?"
"Woo-woo-woo!"
"Good! Now you get some rest. You've had a long night!" I felt her soft lips on my cheek.
"Where's she gone?"
"Whaaa...?" A rude awakening. I was enjoying a dream.
"Shit, it stinks worse than Smegs's room in here." Corinne opened the window and let the fog and frost stream into the room. I snuggled deeper into my dank and fetid pit. "Where's Angelica?"
"Gone to Clit's. What's the time?"
"Eight. Clit will go spare. She doesn't open until nine." Corinne tried to lean out of the window to see round the corner of the building to the door of the bra measuring facility.
"You look very full this morning, Cee."
"Me?" She blushed prettily. "No, it's just this sweater. It's winter out there." She pretended to swing her arms in an attempt to keep warm.
I wasn't fooled. "Your bust is getting bigger, you know. Are you sure you're not doing this on purpose?"
"Growing on purpose? Don't be daft. I couldn't do that. I could be growing subconsciously, I suppose, but I'd usually know as soon as I'd had the subconscious thought." She changed the subject abruptly. "Are you staying in bed all day?"
"I had a tiring night."
"What time did you get to sleep?"
"About three minutes before you came in, shouting about the place and opening all the windows. You can close it now."
"Close it yourself. It stinks like a Turkish brothel in here."
How did she know? "I'll get some sleep and see you later."
"Idle slut." She moved to the door. God, she was getting big up top! That sweater was bulky, but it was also very full of girl. Watch out, Smegs! Miss Meadowlark coming up fast on the outside. It was almost as if Corinne was keeping pace with Angelica's growth: keeping a few inches ahead the whole time.
Nonsense, of course.
"Miss Grimbo's even bigger than me now!" Valentina blushed prettily and delightedly, hugely turned on by the thought of her favourite teacher getting bigger and bigger with each passing day. "I'm going to do something naughty in her class so she'll have to punish me. Maybe she'll give me a spanking!"
"Miss Grimbo won't spank you," Helvetica sneered. "She's American. And she won't make you sort panties. I bet she won't even make you do lines. If you're really bad, she might keep you in after school."
"That would do, if she's going to be there to keep an eye on me."
"Anyway, what's this crush on Angelica, all of a sudden?" said Helvetica, using Miss Grimbo's first name with breathtaking daring.
"It's not a crush," Valentina retorted, bright red spreading down into her cleavage like spilled ink. "I can tell by the way she looks at me, she thinks I'm special. If there's any crushing going on, it's Angelica who fancies me!" Valentina hoped the tremor in her voice when she spoke the teacher's name hadn't betrayed the instant moistness in her underwear. She parted her legs under the laboratory bench and surreptitiously liberated her panties from her suddenly sopping crotch.
"Huh! Has she ever invited you into her bedroom?"
Valentina bit her lip. "Not yet. She's probably too shy. She'd blush when she tried to ask me. I'll have to ask her myself."
"Go on, then."
"I will."
"Go on, do it! Scared to."
"Not!"
"Are!"
"You are!"
"I don't need to ask her, Angelica asks me. Nyerrr."
"Liar."
"Well, if you want to ask her, now's your big chance. Here she comes. Christ! Look at the tits on her!"
Valentina and Helvetica instantly forgot their verbal tussle. "She's immense, Vets! I'm starting to get wet!"
Helvetica didn't think it was the right moment to mention that Valentina was already giving off more muskiness than was considered right and proper. Besides, she was getting pretty wet herself.
Miss Grimbo — Angelica — stalked into the lab: she was apparently not in a good mood.
Miss Grimbeau plonked her books down on the desk and glowered round at the girls of the First Form Sexual Chemistry Group. Lust-filled eyes stared back at her. Girls were licking their lips, thinking lewd thoughts. Most of them would have no idea how to do any of the things they were imagining themselves doing with Miss Grimbo, but they would certainly love the chance to try.
"Puff!" Miss Grimbeau whirled round to face the blackboard. Centrifugal force took a hand, and she staggered slightly. She was not a happy bunny this morning. That Miss Clitress didn't have a bra to fit her. She had tried on a standard ScatBra but the pressure on her moons had been almost unbearable. And a FreeTips looked so disgraceful she had been unable to look at herself in the mirror. So it was back to the too-small prototype. Her favourite black silk shirt was useless now. All she had been able to find was a white T-shirt, and she was so big she felt like she was carrying two blimps inside it.
"Puff!" As if that wasn't bad enough, Miss Gruntworthy was still insisting on the First Form Sexual Chemistry Group developing this ridiculous chemical to make girls' areolae grow. As if!
"Puff!" She scrawled the word on the board and sat down on the edge of the desk, uncomfortably aware of the way she looked. Helvetica and Valentina were sitting together at the front, attempting to see right up her scarlet latex skirt. She pulled at it, trying to reveal less thigh. It didn't work. The horny little sluts were gaping openly at her bust, too. It didn't help that her nipples were becoming enormously erect. Both of them!
"What are you two staring at?" she stormed. The class gasped audibly. Valentina and Helvetica looked at her with injured innocence. Haloes appeared over their heads.
"Us, Miss?"
"We weren't staring, Miss."
Their eyes began boring into her chest again. The pressure in that bra was becoming too much to bear. She tried to ease the strain by hunching her shoulders.
"You could always take it off, Miss Grimbo," said Valentina.
"What?"
"Your bra, Miss Grimbo," said Helvetica helpfully. "It's too tight, isn't it?"
"Take it off, Miss. We won't look."
This was appalling! These two sluts had to be punished. They deserved a good spanking, with a paddle. Or they ought to be made to sort funky panties for a month. Perhaps she could make them write something out in their best handwriting, but she couldn't think of what to ask them to write, nor how many times. Miss Gruntworthy would know exactly what to tell them to write out, and how many times to write it.
The thought of Miss Gruntworthy reminded Miss Grimbeau powerfully of the night before.
The Uncontrollable Horniness had gone on and on, and she could still feel it bubbling away inside her even now. She had wanted to grope Miss Clitress while she was being measured earlier. Now, despite herself, she wanted to get her hands on a pair of breasts again. Better still, two pairs...
"See me after class, you two! In my staff room."
The rest of the class relaxed. Punishment had been handed down, they were safe.
Valentina and Helvetica looked at each other with quiet triumph. Separately would have been better, but together was better than the other one getting to see Miss Grimbo.
Corinne slipped out of her Third Form Support and Mobility class, leaving the girls to work on Alternative Green Solutions to Personal Transportation Problems — Part III: Self-Propelled Wheelchairs. They had installed Anastasia in a wheelchair borrowed from Nurse, and were deploying chunks of wood as breast supports.
It would keep them occupied for half an hour. She looked furtively in all directions and set off across the quadrangle.
"Come in, Miss Meadowlark."
"How did you know it was me?"
"You had to come sooner or later." Clit cleared a space on the work bench and stretched her tape measure in anticipation. "You've run out of bras in the right sizes, haven't you?"
Corinne admitted she had. "I got rid of all my huge ones. Michaela had some of them, and Anastasia had the rest. This is the biggest I've got left. I put it on this morning and it's nearly strangling me."
"I'm not surprised. Take your woolly off and let's have a look at them." Clit watched critically. "You're as bad as the girls, you teachers. Anyone would think you were scared to come and ask for a bra the right size, but you carry on squashing yourselves into something half a dozen sizes too small. I won't eat you, you know!" Clit considered that statement for a while, as she ran the tape round Corinne's waist. "Not if you don't want me to, anyway."
She wrote a bold 19" on the blackboard.
Corinne blushed prettily. "Shall I take it off? It's horribly tight."
"Not for a minute. Let's see. Right! Fifty-six. Now, off with it."
"Whoooh! You wouldn't believe..." Corinne's breasts settled into a heavy bounce on her stomach. The nipples perked up and looked interested. "Did you say Angelica was in earlier?"
"I didn't, but she was." Clit took a few routine measurements and went to the shelves against the wall.
"How big is she now?" Corinne's voice wobbled as much as her boobs.
"Too big for that prototype bra. I'm making her a new one." She brought a small stack of boxes and opened the top one. "Try this on, then let me measure you again. Angelica's still getting bigger. If I didn't know better, I would be getting suspicious. Look at the size of these cups!" She held out a bra with curiously extended ends. The material was pale yellow, with little golliwogs on it.
"She can't wear that!" Corinne was outraged. "She'll sue St Cat's for every penny we've got."
"Arms up! Hmmm. There's nothing wrong with a few gollies on a bra. It's not an insult or anything. Angelica knows what colour she is. You don't object if girls play with little pink blonde dollies, do you? There! Sixty and a half. No wonder you couldn't breathe before. Take a deep breath now, and adjust it."
Corinne did, and the ScatBra creaked softly to itself in satisfaction. She picked up Angelica's new bra and shook her head. "It's most insensitive, Clit," she said.
"That's not what she said earlier this morning. I hardly touched her moons and she flew up to the ceiling. She tried an ordinary bra on and her nips nearly exploded. I thought she was going to ravish me on the spot. Still, I'm a bit old for her, I suppose."
Corinne shuddered. "This new one feels really lovely. It's so soft!"
"Our constant policy of improvement. New, softer cup linings, better support, improved JD's. You'll love it. Welcome back to the Five-Foot Club, Miss Meadowlark. You'll be wanting to change that sweater now. You look like something from the 1960's"
Chapter 20:— She's Got Bigger
"WHAT DID you want to see us about, Miss Grimbo?" Valentina asked innocently.
"Did you just want to get us away from all those children, Miss?" Helvetica took a deep breath and turned her body sideways.
Valentina leaned forward and placed her chin in her hands. She glanced down surreptitiously to check that she was revealing a sufficient amount of shadowy cleavage. "They are horrible little kids, aren't they, Miss."
"You like older women, Miss, don't you? Or bigger women, anyway!" Helvetica's voice was strained as she tried to breathe in even more while her lungs were already fully expanded.
"You're a bigger woman, now, Miss," Valentina said daringly. "You're even bigger than me!"
"And you're much bigger than me, Miss! But I'm growing, too."
Angelica slammed a hand on the desktop. "Stop it! I'm your teacher. You can't talk to me like this." The pressure in her breasts was increasing. Previously, she'd had a kind of simmering Uncontrollable Horniness, mingled with a tingly feeling in the nipples, or possibly in the moons. Now, the feeling had spread, and felt as if it was occupying her entire breasts. And it had spread, too. Her fingers felt numb, like pins and needles. She clenched her fists and rested her weight on her hands, leaning on the desk as if to contain her breasts. She could feel them occupying the space between her upper arms. Her elbows were being pushed outwards by the soft, insistent pressure. She had to resist the temptation to take a look to see if they were actually growing.
"Take it off, Miss," said Valentina softly. "We won't tell anyone." The girl chewed her lip and moved her forearm to cover herself. Suddenly, she seemed less keen to reveal the erection of her nipples.
The feeling was building. Angelica's whole chest was throbbing with her pulse, and it felt as if her breasts must be visibly pumping like those pictures you see on television of hearts beating. "Enough!" her voice nearly cracked that time. "Both of you can write out for me, in your best handwriting..." she struggled to remember the formula. The girls hung on her words, their mouths slightly open, their full lips moist, their eyes bright, faces flushed. Helvetica's nipples were absurdly erect. Valentina noticed them and moved her arms to reveal her own thrusting spikes attacking her bra and blouse. This has to stop!
"What, Miss?" Valentina grinned at her.
"What lines do we have to write," purred Helvetica. "You have to tell us the words. We can't just make up our own, Miss. We might make up something rilly-rilly rude."
"'I Must Not Tell My Teacher She Is Getting Bigger Breasts Than Me.'"
"'I Must Not Lust After My Favourite Teacher, Even If She Is Getting Vast Titties These Days.'"
"'I Rilly-Rilly Must Try To Control The Erection Of My Giant Nipples When Miss Grimbo Is Around,'" sighed Valentina, with a downward glance and a stroke of her palm across her chest which left the monsters unaffected.
Angelica's head spun. She had to sit down suddenly. As she sank into the chair, her breasts tried to carry on down under their own substantial weight. Her fingers felt like a bunch of thumbs. She looked at them stupidly, then found herself almost tearing at the buttons of her shirt.
"You're wearing a T-shirt, Miss," said Helvetica helpfully. "No buttons."
"No buttons, Miss!"
"Let us help you off with it."
"Off with it." Valentina moved quickly behind the teacher's chair. "Sit forward a bit, Miss, there's a good girl!"
"Good girl!"
"Now, then. Put your arms up."
"Arms up. Let Tina take your nasty tight T-shirt off for you."
"Off for you. There. Wow, Miss, you are big, aren't you!"
"Big, aren't you. Give it to me, Vee."
"There you go, Aitch. Now your bra!"
"No, stop it. You can't take my bra off. I'm a teacher. What will happen if anyone comes?"
"Wow, Miss!" Both girls giggled at the thought.
"No one will notice, Miss." Valentina was blushing deeply. "I'm so wet already. I bet you are, too."
"You are, too," echoed Helvetica. "Take her bra off, Vee! Quick!"
"No!"
"It's okay, Miss, we'll be careful." Valentina leaned forward, and Angelica felt the girl's hair on her bare shoulders, felt the warm breath on her back as she concentrated on the hooks. "There, they're so tight. Give us a hand, Aitch."
Helvetica lent a hand. It was taking for ever. Both girls were behind her, she could hear them breathing heavily: panting, almost. One of them had a slight cold and sniffed wetly from time to time. It was Valentina, she was breathing through her mouth. The bra strap went suddenly even tighter than before as the girls pulled hard on it to try and separate the hooks, then they both gave little squeaks of success as the hooks came loose, one after the other. There followed the most extraordinary feeling of release as the bra came undone. Numbly, Angelica leaned forward and raised her arms enough for the girls to slip the straps off her shoulders. The bra now hung loosely on her breasts, supported only by her hugely puffy areolae. She waited for them to remove it, but they seemed to have become shy all of a sudden. They stood one on each side of her chair, still breathing heavily, but saying nothing, as if struck by the enormity of what they had done. Either that or the enormity of their teacher's bosom.
Angelica reached up and detached the bra from her nipples. She dropped it on the desk in front of her, then shakily stood up. God, she felt enormous! The weight of them! They swayed heavily away from her ribcage as she moved, then thudded back against her body, swinging like church bells.
The unnecessarily loud clock in the quad struck eleven, bringing her back to her senses. The girls stirred themselves, too, realising they had another lesson to attend.
"We've got to go, Miss Grimbo."
"Will you be okay, Miss?"
Wordlessly, Angelica waved her hand toward the door. The girls looked at each other and hurried away to collect their books. They couldn't wait to tell everyone about this. "Wait...!"
The two of them stopped, looking round from the doorway. They stared at the bewildered teacher.
"It's all right, Miss," said Valentina quietly. "We won't tell anyone."
"Later, Miss!"
"Later?" Angelica asked faintly.
"You haven't forgotten, Miss. Netball tonight. Against St Etheldreda's Senior School for Girls — Junior Division."
"You know, Miss? The Super-Pussies? They're the team to beat this year!"
Her head was spinning. She had heard the expression before, but never really considered how it might feel. Her head was literally spinning. Not going round and round on her shoulders until it unscrewed itself and fell off, but something inside was spinning away like a gyroscope, emitting a humming noise that Angelica was sure everyone would hear as she made her way across the quad. Girls hurried past on their way to lessons, glancing curiously at her.
She was, of course, carrying her miserably inadequate bra in her hand, and her T-shirt bulged dangerously with its rebounding load. The girls nudged each other and giggled, hands over their mouths. Angelica scarcely noticed. She couldn't have done anything if she had. What could she do? Keep them in after school? Get them to write something out in their best handwriting? Like what? 'I Must Not Lust After My Favourite Teacher, Even If She Is Getting Vast Titties These Days', perhaps?
The door of the bra measuring facility opened. She hadn't even considered the possibility that Miss Clitress might not have been there. Angelica went inside, and within five seconds was in Clit's arms, sobbing her heart out.
"All right, love, all right! Now, what's the matter then?" Clit held Angelica's chin in her fingers and leaned back to look up into her streaming eyes. "Tell Auntie Clitty. Come on!"
"I'm ... g-growing! I mean, real fast!"
"I can see that. It's no problem. I've got a new bra for you. A nice soft new one with little gollies on it. Here you are, wipe your eyes, love." A handful of industrial paper towel appeared as if by magic. "Blow your little nose. Good girl. Right. Let's have this T-shirt off you. You took your bra off, I see?"
"The girls did it." Angelica gave a huge, shuddering sob. "The First Formers."
"All of them?" Clit considered this case of gang rape.
"No, just two. Valentina and..."
"...and Helvetica. I might have guessed it, those two. You let them take your top off in class?"
"After. I kept them behind for being horrible. They... they took my shirt off and unhooked my bra."
Clit decided not to ask any more questions about why Angelica had let them do such a thing to her. She cupped a cool hand round the swollen underside of Angelica's right breast, avoiding the aroela. It was obviously heavy, the way it felt when she lifted it experimentally a few times. "How's that feel, dear?"
"Big."
"That's because it is. It's very big. It's even quite big by St Cat's standards. At a guess, your bust is probably up to around sixty inches. Remarkable. It is certainly bigger than first thing this morning when I measured you."
"It is?" It felt like it, for sure, but such things weren't possible, were they?
"I've seen it before here," Clit answered the question without her even needing to ask it. "You've got a pretty advanced case of Grow. I doubt if it's finished yet, but at least, this new bra will take care of it for a foot or so."
"A foot or so?"
"I'm sorry, yes. You'll need to come in again when you get bigger than that. It's not bad, a bra that will cover anything between five and six feet. I've put heavy counterweights in it to start with because you're not used to the way you wobble. The Jiggle Dampers are set to maximum. They'll feel funny at first, as if they're trying to stop you moving at all. It's quite spooky, actually, but some of the girls say it turns them on. Luckily, you're strong enough to handle the weight of the thing. Here, try this. Turn round and put your arms out."
The bra felt intolerably heavy. "Is it full of lead?"
Clit was shocked. "Certainly not! Lead! Whatever next? We use iron. It needs more, but it's non-poisonous. Lead! Gracious me! Lead, indeed!"
It still felt like lead. Angelica tried to walk a few paces. Her breasts felt marvellously supported, but her feet felt as if they were going to go through the floor.
"You can take half the weights out once you get used to it. Normally, a couple of days would do, but you're growing so fast, it might take longer. See what I mean about the JD's? Weird. Do they turn you on?"
"Not really." Something was, though. Angelica felt a sick feeling like a great big ball of wool in her tummy. Her fingers were numb again, or perhaps still numb from earlier. Her breasts still ached and throbbed. And it was getting worse. Fast! It was welling up like a tidal wave. "Ooooh! What's happening?"
Clit had seen it before. She hugged Angelica tight and hung on, then eased the teacher to a chair, sat her down, and darted away to get a face flannel. Cool, damp, it felt against her forehead. It didn't take away the ball of wool, but it made her feel a little better for a moment. She looked around her, trying to focus.
"New bra..." she muttered at last. "Pattern?"
"Golliwogs, we call them. Little black dolls. They look really pretty against the yellow..."
Angelica wasn't listening. She drew her knees up to her chest, and tried to hug them to her, but it wasn't easy to get her arms round the front of her knees. Her breasts were very much in the way. But her stomach was aching with tension and that bubbling feeling of just-about-Uncontrollable Horniness. A soft moan escaped her lips as the feeling boiled up through her body, every nerve tingling, right down to the tips of her nipples, so far away now. The hot flush extended down from her face until it reached everywhere, and was replaced by an icy chill. And instantly, she was soaked. Her pants were drenched and she hadn't felt any warning at all. The shame of it! To lose control here in the bra measuring facility!
Clit was back with a glass of water. "Here, take a sip. Don't drink it all." She sniffed. "Go on, then, have a gulp. You seem to have some fluid replacement to do!"
"Oh, Miss Clitress, I'm sorry! I've pee-ed myself!"
Clit put down the glass and hugged her again, kneeling beside the chair. "No you haven't. Maybe just a little drop or two. You're just Uncontrollably Horny, that's all. You've had it before?"
"Not like this! What's going on? WOOOOH! What was that?"
"That probably means you're not going to be doing any more teaching today."
"Woo-woo-woo-WOW!"
"Good girl! Let it out!"
Angelica felt her tummy turn upside-down again, and dozens of creepy-crawlies started dancing up and down her damp inner thighs. She plunged a hand up her rumpled scarlet latex skirt, and encountered an appallingly wet pair of panties. Then another spasm engulfed her, this time centred on her nipples, which felt about a foot long and three inches thick, throbbing and pulsing like bullfrogs' throats in the mating season. "Wow-OOOF! Oh, no!" Another gush of wetness flooded her panties, instantly cooling to freezing point against her blazing thighs. "Isn't it going to stop?" She distinctly heard and felt the creak of the velcro in the sides of her bra cups, both of them, as the adjustment kicked in and let the cups out to the next size up.
Clit heard it, too. "Hey, you're growing again," she cried happily, flicking the ever-present tape from around her neck. She whisked it eagerly round Angelica's bursting bosom. "Oh, my God! Sixty-two already! I don't know who's been creaming you, but it's certainly working! It must be those puffies of yours that are doing it. We'd better think of a name for this new model, before you render it obsolete overnight. Now, we can't call it the ScatBra PuffMaster, that's been done already. AdjustaPuff? GolliMatic? No, perhaps not. WonderBra. Not a bad name. Shame, really. Can you think of anything?"
"Woooooh! WOOOOH!"
"No, sorry. It's a nice enough name, but not memorable enough. All right. There. Rest your poor head on Clitty's boobies. You'll be okay for the next ten minutes. There you go, love. There."
"All ready for the game tonight?" I asked Smegs as she strode purposefully across the restaurant with her tray and parked herself at my table. A swathe of girls picked themselves tearfully up from the floor, sorting out the usable remains of their scattered lunches.
"What game?"
"You haven't forgotten? The netball, at St Etheldreda's Senior School for Girls — Junior Division? The Super-Pussies? They offered me a job there once, but something about it didn't feel right somehow. They seemed more interested in what was up my skirt than what was in my head. Or in my bra, come to that."
"What are you on about?" Smegs paused with her spoon halfway to her lips. She was disobeying the first rule of the St Cat's restaurant: Don't Have The Soup. Obviously preoccupied about something.
"The netball, tonight," I started again. "St Etheldr..."
"Not that. What was all that garbage about what's up your skirt?"
"Never mind." I might as well have a sulk.
"This soup is absolute shit," she said after a few thoughtful spoonfuls. "Or piss."
It could be one or the other, I thought, but surely one ought to be able to tell the difference. "It says it's ox-tail," I said doubtfully.
"What is?" Smegs was already halfway through her cottage pie with defrosted sliced green beans, chips and gravy. Chips and gravy is a mistake, a most regrettable clash of textures, but the chef was away recovering from something sinister involving salmonella, and the relief cook was from Bradford.
"The soup." She looked at me as if I had taken leave of my senses. She pushed away her half-finished plate and I watched incredulously as a First-Former popped her head up above the edge of the table and made off with it.
"Have you seen Corinne?"
"Not since this morning. She came in and opened all the windows. It was freezing."
"She's got bigger."
"I know. She was wearing that horrid beige sweater. The one she said she got for Christmas and didn't dare wear? It looked rilly-rilly full. I was tempted."
"That sweater!" Smegs snarled. "It was a Christmas present. From me. It was from one of my ex-boyfriends, trying to get back into my pants. I don't know what made him think I could wear that colour."
"What made you think Cee could wear that colour?"
She ignored my barb. "It was too small for me anyway. Fifty-eight inches, tops. It was always too tight and it seems even tighter now. That's why I gave it to Corinne."
"That's no reason to get all stroppy. What about that sweater? What's the problem?"
"It's too small for Corinne, that's what's wrong with it. I just saw her heading for Clit's place. She's out to here. That sodding sweater doesn't even reach her tummy, she sticks out so far in it. She's sixty-five if she's an inch."
"No, I saw her this morning, I told you. It was snug, but it fitted okay. I'd have noticed if it was that much too small."
Smegs didn't answer. She was really being most appallingly rude today. Sitting there with her mouth open. That was when I figured she was staring at something across the restaurant. I had to turn to see what it was.
When I saw, I had to turn my chair round so I was facing the right way. Angelica had just come in. The restaurant fell silent. She was wearing her customary red latex skirt, and a white T-shirt. Unusual for her, she tended to favour black silk. I had to admit, though, that the white T-shirt was an inspired choice, if she was striving for effect. She looked staggeringly full-breasted. She was even bigger than some of the Third Formers. That was when I realised that it wasn't just an optical illusion. Angelica was bigger. Bigger than last night. Bigger than ever before.
I turned to remark on it to Smegs, but I was alone. My opinion of her manners took another slump. I turned to watch Angelica undulating to the end of the queue, where she picked up a tray. A new bra, obviously, but she was certainly a much bigger girl than the one I had creamed five times last night.
Typical, I thought. When you wanted Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra Plus Special Brew Two to work, it didn't. And when you didn't...
She drifted aimlessly across to my table, and sat down. Her expression was preoccupied somehow. She gave a little shudder as if someone had walked over her grave — or stuck a finger up her bum, perhaps.
"That T-shirt looks nice on you."
"Thanks," she said flatly. Perhaps that's not the right word. Tonelessly.
"New bra?"
"Yeah."
"What's it called?"
"I can't remember. Wonderbra? GolliMatic?"
Something was wrong with Angelica. I placed a hand on hers. On her hand, that is. She shivered, although her skin felt scorching hot. I remembered how hot it had felt last night, while creaming her deliciously full boobies. Even more deliciously full now. I tried to get a closer look, but a T-shirt has no buttons I could undo. I let go and she stretched it across the peaks of her breasts again. They were nearly bursting the poor thing. What had an innocent T-shirt done to deserve such treatment?
"Woo," she said.
"Sorry?"
"Woo-woo-woo."
"Angelica?"
"Woo-woo-woo-WOOOOOH!"
She seemed to be having an orgasm. The girls were staring in delighted embarrassment. Several were fingering themselves intimately and Angelica had only been coming for five seconds at the very most. Our girls are so highly auto-suggestible. One or two had already gathered, offering rolls of industrial paper towel. I told them to wait a moment. It was a wise decision.
Angelica came thunderously, silencing the normal lunchtime babble of the restuarant. To lend authenticity, she leaned back in her chair, placed her feet on the table and spread her legs lewdly, clutching at her groin with both hands. Then she closed her eyes as the echoes died away.
I allowed her a decent interval, then removed one of her feet from a plate of cottage pie. I gave the plate to a hungry Junior and waited while the handmaidens did their best with the industrial paper towel. It was a bigger job than I or they imagined. An enormous steaming pile of soggy waste paper built up beside the table.
Two girls came in with wheelbarrows and took it away.
Angelica opened her eyes and blinked at me. "Wow!" she said, which seemed to sum things up fairly well.
"You hadn't forgotten the netball game tonight, had you?" I took a spoonful of trifle and fresh cream. It appeared to have been sprayed with some liquid or other. I wondered whether to leave it, but it seemed to taste okay. In fact, it tasted delicious. Unusual flavour for a dessert, but delicious.
"Netball?"
"Against the Super-Pussies. The team to beat this year."
"Oh. Oh, yeah. Netball." She was hugging her breasts between her arms and an expression of lust had spread over her face. Lust, was it, or something more like pleasure? Delight? Ecstasy, even! "Woo-woo-woo," she remarked.
"Come on, we'd better go outside." And I grabbed her warm hand and dragged her to her feet. She pattered along behind me as I made for the doors. I could feel the heavy iron counterweights in the middle of her back as I ushered her out into the misty autumn sunlight. There was still frost on the grass in the shade of the buildings. Perhaps a breath of cold fresh air would bring her to her senses.
Perhaps it would have done, given time. Meanwhile, though, Angelica tore herself free and immediately rolled on the white-rimed grass with her legs in the air. And to the joy of the twenty or so girls within earshot, she erupted like a volcano for something like three minutes. When she finally lay back, exhausted, you could hardly see her skirt for billowing clouds of steam.
Something told me our Miss Grimbeau wasn't going to be much use as a motivator for the most important netball game of the season.
"Well, you saw her, Suze. What do you think?"
"She's getting bigger, Pan."
"I can see that. But what do you think's going on? You know that great big tub of Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra Plus Special Brew Two the First Form Sexual Chemistry Group made up? Miss Gruntworthy said she'd used the whole of that tub on Miss Grimbo last night."
"So? She wants some more. We've got plenty of stuff to make more."
"That's not the point. If she really used all that stuff up on Miss Grimbo in one night, she must've creamed her about five times. She ought to be as big as the side of a house by now."
"I see what you mean." Suzanne thought for a moment. "You must have fucked up again. It's not working."
"It's not me that's fucked up. You mixed it. And the First Form Sexual Chemistry Group have had a go at it as well. There could be anything in there by now. Anyway, it's working, she's grown. It's just not working enough."
"It needs more Big in it?"
"I don't think so. I think we've got to put more Speeder-Upper in it. The Slow-Downer is too strong."
"In the next batch, you mean?"
"Of course. The rest of it's all gone. How can we put Speeder-Upper in it now?"
"We could make a special cream with just Speeder-Upper on its own. We wouldn't need much."
"Just Speeder-Upper and no buffer? I don't know, Suze. It sounds a bit risky."
"Look, Miss Gruntworthy's wasted a whole tub of perfectly good Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra Plus on Miss Grimbo just to get her to grow about six inches. What's the good of that? If she's used the whole tub on her, she must want her to get huge!"
"What for? Miss Grimbo looks great the way she is."
"How would I know why she wants her bigger. She does, that's all. Get your notebook. We'll make a batch of Speeder-Upper Cream. Miss Gruntworthy will be rilly-rilly pleased. She might let us off Sex."
Pansy went pale. "What do you want to be let off Sex for? There must be something wrong with you. You're sick!"
"Well, she can let me off Sex. You can choose your own lesson."
Chapter 21:— Cream Or Milk?
WE ARRIVED only just in time. St Etheldreda's was so far away, the minibus had to leave St Cat's at half past two, and it was at a quarter past when Angelica decided she needed a new crop-top for her cheerleader's outfit.
"This is a fine time to think of it," I scolded her, as she scrambled off the bed and climbed into her scarlet latex skirt. "And what am I supposed to do with this lot?" I yelled after her as she shot out of the door pulling one of my T-shirts over her head.
"You'll think of something, Headmistress. See ya later."
I regarded the two handfuls of Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra Plus Special Brew Two. For the briefest moment, I thought of applying it to my own breasts, but as I couldn't reach my own moons it was a non-starter.
"Put it on mine, Miss Gruntworthy!"
"Or mine, Miss!"
"Just a little bit, Miss, just to try." The three Second Form girls had quickly discarded their blouses and bras and were offering me plump shiny moons to anoint with Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra Plus2.
"Where did you three come from?" I asked them severely.
"We've been waiting for you to punish us, Miss."
"We were naughty in class, Miss."
"You told us to come here at two o'clock, Miss."
"Why are you late, then?"
"We weren't. We've been waiting for you to finish creaming Miss Grimbo. She's huge already, Miss, why did you need to cream her again?"
I couldn't tell them the truth, could I? That creaming her was the only way of temporarily putting a brake on Miss Grimbeau's — or Miss Grimbo's — Uncontrollable Horniness. "She asked me to," I improvised.
"So did we, Miss," one of the Juniors said reproachfully. "And Grow Cream Super XL Magnum Mega-Mammoth Mammavast Double-Strength Ultra Plus Special Brew Two is for girls, after all, not teachers."
"Who told you that?"
"Miss Mountains, Miss."
"Miss Meadowlark, Miss."
"Miss Grimbo, Miss."
I know I should have wiped the surplus cream off my hands back into the tub, then carefully washed off the last traces, locking the tub in a secure cabinet, out of reach of prying little fingers. Instead, I applied a generous dob to each pert nipple, and rubbed it in with a feeling of gathering moisture between my thighs.
"Wow! Thanks, Miss Gruntworthy!"
"Thanks, Miss. That felt great! You're rilly-rilly good, Miss!"
The third girl had swooned away and had to be carried from the room. They put her clothes back on in the corridor outside before hurrying away to regale their classmates with this latest tale of Miss Gruntworthy's generosity.
I supposed I would have to explain it to Smegs in due course. And Corinne. Really, what business it was of theirs, I had no idea. St Cat's High School for Growing Girls was my school, after all, and Grow Cream, like all other Sexual Chemicals, was designed for girls, not grown-up women.
"Where's Miss Thing?" I asked, agitatedly.
"Miss Malone, Miss? She left a message to say she can't come. Her piles must have flared up again."
I had a delightful image of the local fire brigade at work on Miss Malone's hindquarters with their hoses, but dismissed it on the grounds that she had done nothing to deserve such service.
"We're all here, then, apart from Miss Grimbeau."
"She's on her way, Miss. She said two minutes while she powders her nose."
"She's squirting stinky stuff under her arms, Miss," said a helpful cheerleader.
"To stop her getting too funky if it's hot at St Etheldreda's."
There was a certain funkiness in the school minibus right now. Seven netball players and five cheerleaders, including a well-supported Sally Chung, sat with their knees touching, shivering with nerves and wetting themselves occasionally with ill-suppressed excitement. Jeremy opened a window.
"Here she comes, Miss."
"Wow, look at her tits!"
I already was. Despite having had my creamy hands all over them until fifteen minutes ago, I was still impressed by them as they bounced gloriously beneath her new crop-top. They seemed to go on for ever. "Thank you, dear, it can wait until later," I said to the girl who offered me a handful of industrial paper towel. The girls were really getting a bit too adept at anticipating my needs, industrial paper towel-wise.
Angelica clambered aboard and sat down next to me. "Where did you get rid of it, Headmistress?"
"Get rid of what?"
"Those two handfuls of Grow? You could have carried on creaming me now."
"I put it back in the tub," I mumbled.
"Oh, good. All the more for later, in that case," and she applied her lips to mine, her arms wrapping themselves round my neck to the accompaniment of cheers from the girls behind us.
The bus wobbled as Jeremy glanced back at us in horror. We were just about to turn out of the driveway on to the main road. "Do up your seat-belts, you two."
We obeyed, blushing prettily, and limited our attentions to quick feels below the belt. The journey passed surprisingly quickly. In no time, the bus was pulling up in the car park of St Etheldreda's Senior School for Girls. We all piled out on wobbly legs. The girls immediately resumed their amorous activity. I had to walk around pulling them apart. They immediately paired off again, snogging openly, rubbing their breasts and crotches against each other. Steam began to rise from their heated bodies into the chill air.
"Miss Gruntworthy?"
A huge disapproving woman towered over me.
"Yes, that's me," I said ungrammatically, disentangling myself from Angelica's powerful thighs and fastening as many of my shirt buttons as I could reach without attracting the huge disapproving woman's attention. I thanked one of the girls politely as she mopped my thighs with half a roll of industrial paper towel.
"Clarissa Codryngton-Stockingstone, Physical Education." I assumed the last two words were her job title, rather than an extension of her name.
"Chauntaille Gruntworthy, Headmistress," I announced, taking a deep breath and feeling a stray trickle of love juice coursing down past my knee. "This is Angelica Grimbeau, Morale Mistress."
The huge disapproving woman looked us up and down with huge disapproval. "Is that Grimbeau or Grimbo?" As if it mattered.
"Grimbeau," said Angelica. "Miss Grimbeau." I felt my heart swell with pride, and possibly my clitoris as well.
"Bring your... team... along to the sports hall." She glared at the girls with massive disdain, and with sheer disbelief at the cheerleaders. "Are these others with you?"
"Of course. They are our Morale Support Unit!" Angelica seemed in danger of clobbering this woman.
"You're an American?" The woman Codryngton-Stockingstone looked as if she was expecting to be mugged or worse. I had news for her. She was closer to it than she realised. I dragged Angelica away before she could do some lasting damage, like providing Miss Codryngton-Stockingstone with an additional hole to do with as she pleased. We were going to need our Morale Support Unit this evening, with none of our regular squad of high-decibel screaming supporters present. We felt exposed, isolated and vulnerable.
The woman Codryngton-Stockingstone led us through a doorway into an echoing corridor with a ceiling about a thousand feet high. The parquet floor was worn down by generations of aristocratic shoes. Light of numerous colours filtered dimly down from stained glass windows which had withstood the impact of generations of high-class accents. Our footsteps rang hollowly, and even the chatter of bright St Cat's voices was stilled as we followed the dreadful woman to God-knew-where.
I found myself imitating her splay-footed walk, like an upper-class duck. Angelica nudged me urgently in the ribs. "Stop it," she hissed.
Nervous whispers came from the girls following us. "Don't, Miss," pleaded Helvetica, "You'll get us into trouble."
I stopped, feeling sheepish and embarrassed. The girls gave a sigh of relief. Just in time, as Miss Hyphen-Hyphen turned round and glared at us to see what all the whispering was about. She looked at us in silence for several seconds, daring one of us to make a noise, then turned and stalked on without a word.
"Miss?"
"What is it, Helvetica?" I whispered.
"Where are all the girls, Miss?"
"Girls?"
"It's a girls' school. There ought to be girls."
This was true. I knew there was something missing, but hadn't been able to put my finger on it. St Etheldreda's Senior School for Girls, with its Junior Division, numbered something like a thousand souls. Where were they? It was four o' clock in the afternoon.
Miss Codryngton-Stockingstone stopped in her tracks and we had to swerve to avoid her austere tweed bottom. She revolved on her axis and spoke. "You will be wondering where the gels are." She called them "gels". Not content with being a sour-faced bitch, she was a mind-reader, too. "They are at tea. The whole school takes tea together in Grand Hall. You will have had yours, of course."
"Oh, of course!"
Twelve hungry girls opened their mouths to protest, but closed them again when la Codpiece-Stockhausen fixed them with a steely glare. "I will take you directly to the Sports Hall, where you will be allowed to await the arrival of the St Etheldreda's Team. You will behave yourselves, of course."
"Oh, of course."
"I hope so. Here we are, down these steps. Quietly, please!"
She led us into the bowels of the earth for a while, then opened a door which led surprisingly into a brightly-lit Sports Hall. Again, she surveyed us for Suitability.
"Where's the loo, Miss?"
Miss Thing-Thing's eyes boggled at being addressed by a mere girl from another school. She undertook a brief struggle with the language, translating it into something she could understand.
"Tell her it's through there, down the passage, and on the left. And she's to wipe the seat after her."
"You could tell her yourself," I suggested.
"It's all right," said the girl, our Wing Attack. "I heard her." She gathered herself up with dignity and swept through the doorway, breaking into a panic-stricken scamper before she did something quite reprehensible in her knickers.
"I shall leave you here," Miss C-S pronounced. "You shall not be permitted to practise on the court, of course."
"Shall we not? Oh, of course. See you later, then."
I received a sniff in reply, and she was gone, leaving a faint but lingering odour of coal-tar soap.
Corinne arrived at the door of the Bra Measuring Facility for the second time in a day. She glanced around furtively in case anyone was watching, then slipped inside.
"Miss Meadowlark, you're back! What's the matter? Is it rubbing? Sometimes they do while they're a bit stiff..."
"It's not rubbing."
"...and sometimes the adjusters stick. It's these medium sizes that are worst for some reason. They..."
"The adjusters aren't sticking."
"...it's either the adjusters or the JD's. The linkage between the JD's and the counterweights is stiff when it's new. I usually tell the girls to do some exercises to..."
"It isn't the JD's."
"...you ought to try — what? What is the matter with it? And why are you wearing that enormous raincoat? It stopped raining hours ago."
"This is why!" Corinne flung the raincoat open.
Clit was gratifyingly impressed. Despite all her experience, she felt her jaw drop open. "You're not wearing a bra," she pointed out.
"I know I'm not wearing a bra," said Corinne through gritted teeth. "It doesn't fucking fit me any more."
"It's too small?" Stupid question, really: Clit could see that quite clearly. One thing that was certain was that the bra which had fitted this morning had not suddenly become too large.
"It's too small. I've grown again."
"You've been messing around with chemicals. I've told you before about those things. I thought you had more sense. You and that Miss Grimbeau, you're as bad as each other."
"You've seen Angelica?" Corinne asked sharply.
"She came in half an hour ago for a new crop top. She's gone off to the netball game. I thought you might have wanted to go over there as well. It's the big one. The game to win. Against St Ethel..."
"I don't like netball."
"You ought to take an interest in it. It's all about Support and Mobility, after all. Anyway, Miss Grimbeau took a new crop top. It was a bit full up, but the way she's growing, she'll have grown out of it in another day or two anyway."
Corinne groaned. "She's not bigger than me, is she?"
"Hard to say, with you being so tiny. She's six inches taller. There's not much in it. Although you probably still have an inch or two in hand."
Corinne heaved what looked like a sigh of relief. "Oh, good."
"You want to be bigger than her?"
"I didn't say that."
"Not in so many words. But anyone would think you were trying to stay in the lead for some reason." Clit whisked her tape measure from around her neck with an air of pleasurable anticipation. "Let's have a look at you, then. Bend forward from the waist. Wow! That can't be right! It is, though. You're still ahead. But you're nine inches bigger than this morning! Seventy exactly!"
"Oh, my God! What's she doing to me?"
"What? Who's doing anything to you?"
"Nobody. Nobody at all." Corinne stood up straight, although her shoulders sagged almost immediately with the weight. "Have you got a bra or not?"
"Of course." Clit dragged a huge box out from beneath the bench and dived a hand into it. She came up with three bras in randomly unpleasant colours. "Here you go. You'd better wear one straight away. These will take you up into the eighties, so you'll be okay for another day or so."
Corinne grabbed the three bras and thrust them into her raincoat pocket. "Thanks," she said brusquely. "See you tomorrow." And she stalked out, colliding briefly with the door frame. One soon forgets how big these things are.
"They're huge, Miss Grimbo!"
"I know. I can't help it."
"No, not those!" Helvetica giggled and her JD's swung into corrective action. Not entirely effectively. "I mean them. The other team."
She pointed to the doorway where the St Etheldreda's team was filing into the sports hall in a disciplined manner. The rest of the St Cat's team gasped. They were faced with a team of giantesses.
"That's not fair, Miss. They must be thirteen at least!"
"No, they can't be. They've hardly got any tits at all."
"Some girls don't have any," said Helvetica, and the other girls screwed up their faces in disbelief. "There are whole schools in this country where the biggest girl is something like a forty-two bust!"
"What, in the Juniors?"
"No, in the whole school."
"Don't be silly, Aitch!"
"Nah, that's ridiculous."
"Well, how do you explain that lot, then?"
They looked at the opposition again with alarm, as if they were visitors from another planet.
"Maybe they cut them off!"
"What for?"
"To make them good at netball."
"Cutting your tits off makes you good at netball?"
"It might do. It makes it easier to jump around."
The St Cat's girls bunny-hopped experimentally a few times, then stopped, hanging on to their burgeoning breasts with both hands.
"I see what you mean."
Helvetica giggled and pointed. "Hey! They've got no tits, but they're big elsewhere!"
"Elsewhere?"
"Down there."
"Down...?"
"Their front bottoms. Look at them all!"
The St Cat's girls stared. Then they looked at each other and blushed prettily.
"They must be stuffing."
"What for? Why would anyone want to stuff their shorts?"
True enough. Why did the St Etheldreda's girls not stuff their bras? Arguably because they weren't wearing any. But every one of the other team was singularly well-fleshed down below.
"You're sure this is a girls' school?"
"It said so on the gate."
"Yeah, but...! Look at them!"
"Boys can't play netball," declared Helvetica with conviction. "We can beat them standing on our heads. C'mon, Puffies!"
"C'mon, Puffies!"
The opposition girls stared at the St Cat's team as if they had produced a foul smell. They backed away. A confrontation was budding, but it never had a chance to develop, as the referee blew her whistle. It was Miss Codryngton-Stockingstone.
"Captains! Together please!"
The captain of St Etheldreda's slunk forward. Helvetica gave her a few seconds, then swaggered up and offered her hand. "Helvetica Bold," she fluted in her crystal clear St Cat's tones. She took a deep breath and was gratified to see the whites of the Etheldreda's captain's eyes widen.
"Peta Featherstonehaugh. Pronounced Fanshawe. I mean, spelled F-E-A-T..."
"Hi, Pete. How's it feel?"
"I beg your pardon? How does what feel?"
"Being a boy in a girls' school?" Helvetica edged closer so her breast brushed the other captain's arm. The girl leaped back as if scalded.
"Shake hands, captains," interjected Miss Codryngton-Stockingstone antiseptically.
Helvetica offered a moist little paw and the formality was completed. Helvetica continued to hold Peta's hand as the referee tossed the coin. "Tails, please," she sighed softly, giving a little squeeze before allowing her middle finger to trace a seductive circle in Peta's suddenly damp palm. "We'll play ... this way," she murmured. Then before Miss Codryngton-Stockingstone or Peta Featherstonehaugh could object, she placed both hands behind the taller girl's neck, reached up and kissed her full on the lips. There was a certain amount of tongue involved, and Helvetica was surprised and pleased to feel her opponent responding. She allowed herself a brief pressure, hips thrusting against Peta's bulging crotch, before pulling away and smiling sweetly up into the girl's startled, fawn-like eyes.
"Sorry about that," she whispered confidentially. "An old St Cat's custom."
Peta bleated and glanced round in horror at Miss Codryngton-Stockingstone, whose face was like thunder. Helvetica trailed her burning fingers across the front of the opposing captain's shorts, then trotted back to the bosom of her team, who were watching with awed fascination.
"You kissed her!"
"Him!"
"It's a boy?"
"His name's Peter. Peter Fanny-something. He's definitely a boy. He put his tongue in my mouth."
"So do we," objected half the St Cat's side.
"Yeah, but he's got a willy. I felt it. Woooh!"
"Was it hard?"
"Not really," Helvetica admitted, not having felt a real one before. "But it was rilly-rilly huge."
"Wow! Are the others boys as well?"
"They look like boys." They studied the group of opponents, who were staring at them while their captain described her recent experience in tones of deepest outrage.
Then the whistle sounded.
Miss Codsteaks-Shockingdrawers had already showed Angelica and me to the VIP viewing area, which was crammed to overflowing with identical women in tweeds and sensible shoes. They were apparently clones. Even the younger teachers seemed to be wearing the same uniform. They looked as if they ought to be out on the hills with golden retrievers called Arthur and Benedict.
They looked at us with pity and loathing. It is not often that I am upstaged, but this was one occasion when even a ten-foot bust had little or no impact. The staff of St Etheldreda's Senior School for Girls, and its Junior Division, were too busy gawping at Angelica.
Anyone would think they had never seen a big buxom chocolate-coloured woman before, with tits out to here and then some, revealing deliciously edible thighs and just a hint of a little belly, made specifically as a receptacle for strawberries and whipped cream. I was hungry already. Angelica looked at me nervously, sensing my arousal. She shook her head quickly: No, Headmistress, not here!
Too late.
I took a seat as far as possible from the Etheldreda women and wished, just this once, that there had been a Junior girl with a handful of industrial paper towel for me. Angelica mercifully sat between me and the others.
"You've done it again, haven't you, Headmistress?"
"Yes," I admitted, pressing my knees together.
"We'll soon be home! As soon as we've beaten this pile of shit to a pulp."
"Really?" Was this how the Junior Girls talked in the changing rooms before a game?
The cheerleaders went into their routine.
"Eat 'em up, Puffies, eat 'em up," (stomp, stomp).
They were doing it without an audience of St Cat's girls this time, so they had turned their attention to the St Cat's team, who swelled noticeably with pride, puffing themselves up visibly inside their tight shirts. The Etheldreda's girls seemed reluctant to come out and play in the face of such a display of blatant feminity. Even the audience of almost a thousand gels, freshly showered and drenched in acceptably perfumed toilet water, were subdued.
"Sheesh!"
"What's the matter?"
"My boobs. They're on fire!"
I checked hurriedly. There was no smoke as far as I could discern. "They look okay."
"They're bursting, Headmistress!"
"They don't look any bigger. Not much, anyway."
"They feel it. Just like when you creamed me. Tingling. Wow. Woo-woo-woo!"
"Angelica! No! You can't...!"
"I've got to! Woo-woo-wooph!"
The conversation so far had been conducted in whispers, and the game was in progress. But at that last exclamation — or was it an ejaculation — from Angelica, several of the St Etheldreda's staff looked at us sharply. Not even the scoring of St Cat's second goal could divert their attention.
"Ooofff!" she said again, clutching at her breasts with both hands. The watchers looked away, scandalised, then peered at Angelica out of the corners of their eyes. St Cat's scored another goal.
"What is it?" I asked desperately. I was on the verge of coming again myself. "Woo-woo-woo."
"I don't know, Headmistress. They feel like they're going to explode!" ©
"Rubbish," I said with little or no conviction. "Breasts don't explode!"
"These are going to. Oh no! Uh, oh! Oh, shit. Oh, my. Oh, no! Sheesh!"
I know Angelica can go on like this for hours on end if no one stops her.
"Shush!" I told her. "What is it this time?"
"I dunno. I'm all wet. Up here. I think. Yes, I have: I knew it."
"What?"
"I've got milk!"
End of Part VII