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Something in the Water 2/2 (breasts)
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Subject: Something in the Water (2/2) (big breasts, growth)
Date: Tue Jul 18 18:37:45 1995
THIS STORY WAS NOT WRITTEN BY ME!!!
I am posting it as a favor to the author, who wishes to remain anonymous.=
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Any e-mail received by me will be forwarded to the author.=20
Enjoy!!
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Something In The Water
< part 2/2 start here >
Chapter 5:- Measure Them In Feet
By the Friday evening, Louise was excited about the trip. She didn't
get away much, not being able to afford to run a car. A weekend away
would be a break for her as well as being company for Jessica.
Louise's only reservation was that her bust had now reached 48 inches,
which was pretty impressive on her tiny frame. At least, it indicated
that her rate of growth was slowing down after the initial burst.
I wished the same could be said for the Sargent girls and their
friends. The six of them must by now have had a total of around 27
feet of bust, which was a little excessive for their tender ages,
which ranged from eleven to just fourteen! One of them had apparently
listened at the kitchen door to my conversation with her mother, and
since then, the girls had been glugging coffee as if it was going out
of fashion.
Another piece of news had turned up. Davie had called during the week,
and referred to our earlier cryptic conversation. "Were you referring
to girls' tits, by any chance?" he asked. My heart leapt. I told him I
was. He said he thought he knew what I meant now.
"You remember Claudia?" Did I! Claudia was Davie's girlfriend. Things
had cooled off in the last six months or so, he said, until she called
him on Wednesday night. Urgently!
"What coffee does she drink?" I asked quickly.
"Shit, how would I know? Some Dutch stuff she found somewhere. Can't
stand it!"
"Davie! Her tits? Are they ...?"
"They're enormous, Col. You gotta see them. How's about this weekend?"
So it was all arranged. Davie was bringing Claudia round to Jessica's
on Saturday evening. We would make a night of it, the seven of us, if
you counted Baby and Acme.
**********
"There's a link between coffee and the water softener, that much is
obvious. What's not so clear is why some women aren't affected", I
said to Louise as we drove down the road that Friday night. If we
could find out, we could do something about it.
"You mean, like go into the breast enlargement business?"
"I hadn't thought of it from that angle, but yes! At least, if women
didn't want to get bigger, we could publish a warning, or make a
modification to the softener to filter out the caffeine or whatever is
causing it."
"Black or white?"
"What ...?"
"Could it be something to do with the way they take their coffee. I
drink mine white. I bet the Sargent girls do, too. What about that
cow, what'ser name, Mrs Shoesmith? How does she take it? Apart from
any way she can get it, that is!"
I was uncomfortable with Louise mentioning Linda Shoesmith. "Black, I
think. So does Mrs Sargent. You know, that could be the answer!"
"Well, we'll have it confirmed when we get to Jessica's. How about
Claudia. And Jessica for that matter?"
Jessica loved it white, I remembered that much.
**********
Jessica certainly did like it white!
She hugged Louise, but the two girls were standing about four feet
apart!
Jessica was immense! I hadn't seen her for a week, and in that time
her normal and highly respectable 34-DD bust had swelled to a
phenomenal 55 inches! Or so she said, and I had no reason to doubt her
word. "Whaddya think of this little lot, brother?" she asked, proudly.
I had to admit it looked good on her. I told her of our theory about
the coffee and the water, and she said, yes, she liked it with lots of
milk!
Louise couldn't get over the size of Jessica's breasts. "I thought
mine were big", she gasped when my sister had slipped out of the room
to check up on Baby.
"Jessica was big to start with, she was a DD. You should have seen her
when she was feeding Baby, she must have gone up to about sixty
inches. She's getting near that size again now. Did you hear her say
she's still growing? She's at the stage you were at last Monday,
growing two or three inches a day, but with her, it's proportionally
more. I bet by Sunday night, she'll be a sight to behold!"
Then the phone rang. I picked it up. "Hi, Davie, how's things?"
"A bit of a problem, Col. It's Claudia."
"What's the trouble, she's not ill or anything?"
"No, in fact, she's very well. In fact, she's never looked better ...
", his voice went muffled for a moment, there was a lot of noise at
the other end, then he came back. "Sorry about that, she grabbed me.
You know I said her tits had got bigger? Well, make that huge!
Gigantic!! Humungous!!!"
"Great, Louise can hardly wait to see her ..."
"It's not that. She's also unbelievably ... well ... aroused the whole
time. We've been banging away ever since we got up this morning. I
haven't been to work today. The woman's insatiable!"
"And this you call a problem?"
"You try it sometime. What seems to be happening is that her tits grow
until she makes love. Then they stop growing. Once she stops making
love, they start growing again. We've had sex ten times today, so her
tits have only grown from 52 inches to 58! Fortunately, they seem to
stop growing while she's asleep."
"How long since she started to grow, do you know?"
"Two weeks today, she says."
"So Louise has another week before she reaches that stage. Looks like
no more coffee for her, ever again. And Jessica, too."
"Jessica's got it as well?" Davie sounded interested. "She was always
my favourite big-tit fantasy!" once again, there were sounds of a
struggle breaking out at the other end of the phone. "Look, if I can
fight her off long enough, I will bring her over tomorrow. If not, I
will come over on my own and have a try with Jessica ..." This time I
heard something heavy crash down at the far end of the line, and Davie
said no more. "Night-night, lover, see you later!" said Claudia's
voice.
**********
Perhaps Louise got some idea of what had been going on at Davie's and
Claudia's end of the phone conversation, or perhaps she was reaching
the Claudia-insatiable stage of her condition. Whatever, I got no
sleep until five the next morning, and Acme came in and woke us at
six-thirty. After that, there was absolutely no chance of sleep:
Louise was wide awake again!
Chapter 6:- Pushing Back The Frontiers
What a weekend!
Davie managed to persuade Claudia to get out of bed, and the
statuesque black girl, 6 feet tall in her bare feet, made Louise and
Jessica gasp as she clambered out of Davie's car and immediately
clutched her boyfriend's arm. Her spare hand reached down and cupped
his balls. One way and another, Davie wasn't going anywhere.
Claudia must have had a sex-free drive down here. Not only was she as
randy as a bitch in heat - you could practically smell it when she
came into the house - her breasts had obviously grown since the couple
had left home that morning. Her shirt had come untucked from her jeans
at the front, and two of the buttons had disappeared altogether,
leaving a gap at the front where her deep cleavage was clearly
visible.
Deep, in this instance, meant something like twelve inches! Her normal
bra size, Davie had once revealed, had been a 40-E. The forty was
still the same, but that 'E' was a distant memory. I doubted if the
alphabet would be long enough for Claudia if she kept this up for
another couple of days! Sure enough, Davie said she had been 64 inches
before they had left, and this discovery had set them back another
half an hour. Claudia wanted to know how much she had grown in the
two-hour trip, and Jessica fetched a tape measure. The answer was 67
inches. This was getting serious. If Claudia wasn't regularly serviced
this weekend, she was going to put on another couple of feet up top.
By the look of poor old Davie, he couldn't handle much more of this.
"Is she off coffee?" I asked when I could get him alone for a second.
"Only since last night. How long before the effect wears off?"
"Dunno! We've never tried. Could be a day or so. It might be a couple
of months, in which case those things'll be the size of a house. Don't
worry, it could be worse. I'm not sure how, but they could be worse.
At the moment, I trying not to imagine the effect on a particular
bunch of schoolgirls who won't leave that coffee alone. I am scared to
go back to Skingsley for fear of what *they* will look like!"
"Schoolkids? How old?" Davie has always had a soft spot for school
uniforms.
"Eleven, the youngest, just fourteen the oldest."
"Omigod!" he muttered faintly.
By that evening, all three women had expanded by varying amounts:
Louise the least, although she had reached 50 inches. Jessica was now
up to 60 inches , despite throwing away her jar of coffee the night
before. Claudia had been in bed all afternoon, and Davie stayed there
while the rest of us measured the huge black girl. "She's slowing
down", said Louise without much confidence, "she's 85 inches."
Oddly enough, Louise was right. Claudia was an amazing sight with her
breasts swinging around her crotch, but her sexual needs were
lessening, and Davie even had some colour in his cheeks. Claudia's
bust remained the same all through Sunday. We had hacked the problem.
Jessica, too, stabilised at 60 inches. We seemed to have things under
control. A little late, but better late than never. We were
congratulating ourselves on our success when the phone rang.
Jessica looked at me. "It's for you", she said, tossing me the
receiver. I caught it deftly. "It's a Mrs Sargent", she said, and my
heart fell through the floorboards, followed closely by my entrails.
**********
Mrs Sargent had hidden the coffee, but the girls had gone out and
bought another jar, which they had concealed somewhere outside. They
had also bought a gallon of milk. In the middle of Saturday afternoon,
they had slipped away across the fields. That night, under a hedge,
several miles from Skingsley, they brewed coffee and stayed awake
until dawn, drinking steadily.
A police search party, with dogs, found the girls, shivering with cold
but in good spirits, wrapped them in blankets and brought them home in
a van. Muffled up as they were, they had escaped their mother's
scrutiny and were banished to their bedrooms for the whole of Sunday.
The other three girls were delivered to their homes, and suffered the
same fate.
As a result, it wasn't until Sunday evening that the youngest Sargent
girl, Maz, complaining she was starving, had come downstairs without
her blanket. Mrs Sargent screamed when she saw her daughter, whose
tits now hung down to her thighs, dangling out of the bottom of her
nightie! She rushed upstairs to see the other two, and found they were
just as big. She rang the other girls' mothers, and five minutes later
they confirmed that all the kids had at least 100 inch busts!
Then she rang me, after finding out Jessica's number from the company
security man on duty at the factory which wasn't called ACME.
I told Mrs Sargent. "We'll be with you at nine tomorrow morning." It
was going to be another sleepless night.
**********
We planned an early start. Davie was taking Claudia back with him at
seven am, so that he could get on with some work which he had been
forced to miss on Friday. Jessica got up and got Baby ready, while I
took Acme next door where the nice neighbour was going to look after
him. We all piled into the van and set off for Skingsley. It was
crowded in the van, with the two vast-busted women in there. Then I
reflected that where we were heading, there were half a dozen
schoolgirls with tits three times as big. Thoughts like that tend to
concentrate the mind wonderfully.
We drove straight to Mrs Sargent's. She let us in, staring curiously
at Louise, who she remembered as being a flat-chested little woman
she'd seen around the town from time to time. I introduced them, and
Jessica, who I introduced as my sister. Mrs Sargent cooed over the
baby, settling the women down on the big couch in the living room.
Then she called, "Caroline, Danielle, and Marianne! Come down at once,
please!" There was a long pause. Nobody said a word. Then there was
the sound of footsteps coming carefully downstairs. The sort of
footsteps you would take if you couldn't see your feet and you had a
couple of forty pound sacks hanging round your neck and down your
front.
We all knew we shouldn't betray our emotions when the girls came into
the room. The shock to three young girls of entering a room to be
greeted with cried of 'Jeeeeezus', or 'Hot Dog!' could be traumatic in
the extreme. So we didn't shout Jeeeeezus or Hot Dog!
We all gasped.
Louise said "Oh, my God!"
Jessica said, "Fucking Hell!" which surprised me somewhat.
I said nothing but became aware of the entrails again.
The girls filed in and stood in a little semicircle, facing us. They
were naked! Yet they showed no embarrassment, although they were
staying close together for mutual support. Standing shoulder to
shoulder like that, their breasts were all pressed together in the
middle. With their fantastic size and weight, they descended to the
girls' knees. Each single breast was at least as wide as the girls'
bodies.
The nipples were fully three inches long, and pointed at the floor,
and they were surrounded by areolas of staggering size. Caz's were
about eight inches across, like saucepan lids, Daz's were smaller,
about six inches, while young Maz's were as big across as ... as ... I
looked around the room wildly for something to compare to the size of
Maz's areolas, and came up with the head of a tennis racquet which was
lying on a side table. These girls wouldn't be playing any tennis any
more, I thought, irrelevantly.
Caz had caught sight of Jessica's baby. "Ooooooh!" she cooed, "a
baby!" Obviously, growing gigantic breasts had not affected her other
powers. "May I see her? Ooooooh, please!"
Jessica stood up and took Baby over to the three girls, who all cooed
in three-part harmony, and held out their arms to hold the tiny child.
Jessica handed her over, and they all made tiny mewing noises as they
held Baby in turn. Caz tried to hold the little one to her breast, but
the nipple was way out of reach. Baby started to cry, and Jessica took
her back. The three girls were almost quivering as they held out their
arms imploringly. Their fingers occasionally pressed against the sides
of the enormous pear-shaped globes, helplessly trying to get relief
from their feelings of frustration at seeing the baby being taken
away.
Mrs Sargent thought we had probably seen enough. "That will do, girls,
go back upstairs!" she ordered, quite gently, and the trio turned
ponderously and left the room, turning slightly sideways to get
through the doorway one tit at a time. I noticed then that they were
not entirely naked. They wore their underpants. They were obviously
very well-brought-up little girls, the sort who would never allow
themselves to be seen in company without their knickers.
"Well, then, what about that?" said Mrs Sargent. I thought I couldn't
have put it better myself, then realised that she was expecting an
answer.
"The other three girls are the same?"
"So their mothers say. One mother has gone into hospital with a
nervous breakdown. Another one went home to *her* mother. Their girls
are all more or less the same size. They all had about a gallon of
coffee each on Saturday night, as near as we can tell."
"What do you think, Jess?" My sister sometimes comes up with bright
ideas at times like this.
"Well, now we're pretty sure what's causing it; and in our case -
Louise, Claudia and me - we brought our development to a halt by
stopping drinking coffee totally. Perhaps a lab could work out an
antidote. We might even be able to reverse it, and get the girls down
to something like their normal size."
"Fortunately it's a weekday now, we can start making enquiries", I
said.
Louise said she would get the phone book out and spend all day on the
phone until she found someone who could help. "If we need to borrow
one of the girls for tests, are they free this week?" I asked.
"You can take them away now if you like!" I thought I'd rather not, if
it was all the same to Mrs Sargent, thank her very much.
We left her, promising to call as soon as we had heard anything. I
took Louise and Jessica to Louise's house, where they started work
straight away. Meanwhile, I had work of my own to do, installing water
softeners.
Life goes on.
Chapter 7:- We Have The Technology
Louise struck lucky with a laboratory at about eleven-thirty that
morning. She had said she needed to run some tests on possible
reactions between softened water from a particular type of softener
and milky coffee of a particular brand. The technician wasn't thrown
at all. She asked what sort of reaction we were looking for, and
Louise said it might be the sort of reaction which had an effect on
human cells in certain parts of the body. The female body. The
breasts. Making them grow.
Can you bring some samples, yes we could. Louise said we would drop in
and visit them this very afternoon.
Louise had put the phone down, telling Jessica that the woman at the
lab sounded as if fifty people every day came to her to find out why
their daughters had suddenly grown hundred-inch tits.
Barbara Mackay-ffinch, the technician, Louise told me later, was a
tall, slim woman, striking rather than attractive. Louise had left our
samples with her, and she had started work on them straight away.
"Give me a call tomorrow afternoon, around close of play, say about
five-ish, and I'll be able to tell you more."
**********
Louise had not, I was glad to report, ever reached the hyper-randy
stage which had affected Claudia and almost killed poor Davie. Even
so, her appetite was more than a match for mine. She woke me three
times that night. When I did get to sleep, I was troubled by strange
dreams of herds of dairy cows in school uniforms, sitting in rows at
desks.
At least, Louise wasn't scaring me half to death by screaming in front
of the bathroom mirror any more, her breasts were the same wonderful
fifty inches they had reached at the weekend. I could quite easily get
used to them like that. It would almost be a shame if the lab found an
antidote and we had to make them smaller again.
I mentioned that thought to Louise. "As a matter of fact", she said,
"I was wondering whether to go back on to the coffee again for a few
days! What do you think?"
That, I thought, was a thought better not thought about. But I still
thought about it.
**********
Louise and Jessica had gone to the shops during the afternoon and had
not yet returned. There was a scribbled message for me to ring the
labs and see what the news was. I dialled the number and asked to
speak to Barbara Mackay-ffinch. Fortunately, I didn't know how the
name was spelt, or I would certainly have tried to pronounce the
hyphenated part with a stutter, Mackay-f-f-f-finch.
"Barbara Mackay-ffinch", said a husky voice. The soles of my shoes
melted.
"It's to do with some tests you were carrying out into coffee and soft
water, a Ms Woods called you yesterday."
"Oh, yes, Mr Woods, it seems quite promising! There are a few more
tests to do, but I should know something by tomorrow afternoon. Tell
me, if you know, how long does it normally take for this combination
of substances take before any ... effects occur?"
"Well, it varies", I said, trying to think. "A few days, say four or
five, and if anything is going to happen, it will have started by
then."
"And, forgive me, but Ms Woods and her friend didn't tell me this, are
the effects gradual, or immediate?"
"Gradual over the first few days, then they get more marked ... the
growth rate, as it were, speeds up. In some cases, the speed-up is
quite dramatic!"
"Good", said Barbara Mackay-ffinch, "and ... forgive me ..." she said
again. I forgave her, with that voice, I would forgive her many
things, " ... forgive me, but Ms Woods and her friend, were they
affected by this occurrence?"
"They both reached the second stage, then we stopped their intake of
coffee, and checked the growth. We don't yet know what the effect of
resuming their coffee intake would be, whether they would start
growing again, or whether they would go straight into the third or
fourth stages."
"These other stages sound intriguing", she said, "do tell me more!"
"Well, where can I begin? It seems to vary between women. We had one
who wanted to ... to make love with much greater frequency. If she
did, she was fine. If she stopped making love for more than a few
hours, her breasts grew at a tremendous rate!"
"Golly!" I didn't think people really said 'Golly!' any more. But
Barbara Mackay-ffinch did. Coming from her, it sounded sexy.
"And there was another group of women, well, young girls, actually.
They seemed to get the idea that too much of a good thing is never
quite enough, and they overdosed themselves on milky coffee until now
their breasts are as big as rubbish bags! As far as we know, they
missed out on the stage of extreme sexual arousal. Fortunately!"
"Yes, fortunately! I can see that would have been embarrassing for
everyone. Look, thanks for your time, and for answering all these
questions. It's been a great help. Might see you tomorrow?"
"That would be fine, byeeee!"
**********
You readers are one jump ahead already, of course. Readers always are.
It will come as no surprise, therefore, to find that when I went over
to the laboratory the following afternoon, Barbara Mackay-ffinch was
there to greet us with the results of the tests she had carried out.
These were, in effect, a series of neatly printed notes and tables
which seemed to confirm that the link between Dutch coffee and
softened water did exist, and hinted at lines of research towards the
production of an antidote which might partially reverse the effects.
The production of the antidote would take a number of weeks, and some
funding would be required, but Barbara Mackay-ffinch held out some
hope that the work would be successful. "We know more or less what is
causing it, so reversing it should not be too difficult, even if
complete reversal is difficult to achieve."
"You mean women who have reached this size", Jessica indicated her own
chest, "Might only go down to around fifty inches?"
"That's possible, yes."
"And Mrs Sargent's daughters? They're far bigger than Jessica, what
about them?"
Barbara Mackay-ffinch looked thoughtful. "Yes, I was coming to that.
By deliberately taking an overdose of perhaps ten times the normal
intake, these girls may have been affected irreversibly. And as
growing, developing girls, their breasts may continue to get even
bigger. If that is the case, it will be a very real problem for them."
'You said it', I thought.
The whole point about telling stories is that the story-teller can
reveal as much, or as little information, as he wishes. As a supreme
example of this, I COULD now tell you that Barbara Mackay-ffinch's
research had also provided her with such a gigantic pair of titties
that they made Louise and Jessica look flat-chested. They must have
been around 90 inches!
On the other hand, I COULD tell you that she was exactly the same size
as she had been the previous day. If they were as much as 32 inches,
she must have been doing deep breathing exercises.
As this is the age of interactive technology, you, the reader, can
decide.
If you want Barbara Mackay-ffinch to have 32-inch tits, type 'N' now.
If you want Barbara Mackay-ffinch to have 90-inch tits, type 'Y'.
There, I hope you feel much better for that. It will not make any
difference to the story. Now, hands up, those readers who typed every
character of the alphabet to try and make Barbara Mackay-ffinch reach
the same hyper-randy stage as reached by Claudia.
**********
I faxed the notes with a covering letter, to ACME's R & D Department.
In effect, the letter suggested that if the company wanted to remain
viable and solvent, it would be well advised to produce an antidote -
like PDQ. Tomorrow would be just about acceptable.
An hour or so later, the Managing Director came on the phone, sweating
audibly. I sketched him a rough word picture of Claudia, Jessica,
Louise and last but by no means least, Cas, Baz, Daz, Maz, Taz and
Raz. He sounded convinced.
Ten minutes later, a fax confirmed that a double night-shift was
starting work in the Company's laboratories.
When British industry swings into action, almost ANYTHING is
impossible.
Chapter 8:- Nature's Solution
I put down the fax message with the first glimmer of satisfaction I
had felt all day. There had been a number of glimmers of satisfaction
last night, but that was a different kettle of fish entirely, if
Louise will forgive me the perhaps unfortunate metaphor.
My thoughts were interrupted by a hesitant knock on the back door.
'Who can that be', I wondered. Nobody ever came to Louise's back door.
The women were out, still trying, apparently, to find a bra that
fitted Jessica. I went to the door and opened it. There was nobody
there. I was about to close it again, when a figure detached itself
from the shadow of the laurel bushes and approached, looking furtively
in all directions. I recognised Caz, Mrs Sargent's Caroline.
"Caz? There's a surprise, come in."
She came inside, with some difficulty squeezing through the doorway.
The girl was draped in a large raincoat, probably a man's. She
shrugged it off and stood there in the kitchen. Even wearing an
enormous loose sweater, the poor girl's elongated pumpkin-sized
breasts seemed to fill the room. She looked around her again, as if
she thought she might have been followed here, and right into Louise's
kitchen, by a breast-obsessed stalker.
"Did anyone see me arrive?" she asked urgently.
"No, I don't think so. Caz, what's the matter? Come on through into
the other room and you can tell me", and leading the way I sat down on
a floor cushion and indicated that she should sit on the settee. She
flopped down heavily, holding various loose parts of herself as if she
feared they might drop off.
"That woman! Is it Jessica? The one with the little baby? Is that her
name? Is she here?"
"Jessica's my sister, that's right. No, she's gone into the city,
shopping. She should be back soon. If you want to wait for ..."
"Is the baby here?" Caz interrupted.
"No, they took Baby with them. She gets a feed at lunchtime."
"Oh!" Caz looked lost, and utterly dejected, as if all her plans had
suddenly collapsed around her ears.
"What is it? Did you just want to see Baby again? She is lovely, isn't
she?"
Caz looked at the floor, saying nothing. Finally, she looked up shyly.
"I wanted to feed her!" Her voice was almost inaudible.
"Jessica feeds her herself, she's breast-feeding. She doesn't have a
bottle ..."
"I *want* to breast-feed her!" Caz was insistent, and louder.
"But, you ..."
"I've got milk", she said. "After we saw the baby, we went up to bed,
and I had milk. So did Daz and Maz. We've all got milk. That's why I
wanted to feed the baby ..." She made a choking noise and her eyes
filled with tears. She buried her face in her hands, sobbing. 'What is
a bloke supposed to do', I thought. I got up and went across to her.
"Come here, my love", I said, and gently put an arm round her heaving
shoulders. She stiffened, tensed for a moment, and I gave her a
reassuring squeeze, perching myself on the edge of the seat in what I
hoped would feel to the girl like a temporary, non-threatening
position. Finally, she relaxed, and leaned against me, and buried her
wet little face in my shoulder, not sobbing any more, but crying out
loud now, like a hurt child. Which she was.
I just let her go right on and cry, patting her shoulders gently. I
was conscious of the warmth and closeness of her gigantic breasts,
which pressed themselves softly and heavily against me as I perched on
the settee beside her. I was also afflicted by another sensation,
entirely unwelcome and inappropriate. I adjusted the position of my
leg to ease the situation, and hoped she wouldn't notice. I hated to
think what might happen if she did notice even an average-sized
erection. As it was, if she wanted to, she could have me locked up
right now and the key thrown away.
Gradually, she stopped crying and began looking round for a
handkerchief. I got up, stiffly, and found her a box of tissues. She
wiped her eyes, then blew her nose. Why do people blow their noses
when they've been crying? She looked up.
"You know our ... our ..."
Women seemed to have difficulty saying the word. "Your breasts?" I
offered.
"Our titties", she said finally, with some certainty. Okay then, have
it your way, your titties.
"What about them?"
"Are they going to stay this big now? For always?"
"Caz. I spoke to a scientist today. They're on the case. A lot of
people cleverer than you or me are working extremely hard to find a
way of reversing what's happened to your titties, and your sisters',
and your friends'. And for that matter, Jessica's, too, if she wants
to. If all goes well, you could start getting back to normal in a few
days."
"And what if it doesn't?"
That was worrying me, too. "I'm positive they will find the answer.
Certain."
"Do you think it would work if we just fed some babies? Wouldn't we
get smaller then?"
"If you like, we could ask Jessica when she comes in. You could let
Baby suck and see if you produce any milk. That might make you feel
more comfortable. Okay? We'll ask her."
Caz's face lit up as thought a lamp had been turned on inside her
head. "Could we! Ooooh, yes, please!" And she threw her arms and
everything else around me and gave me a long, long kiss. After a few
seconds, I began to wish it had been a more little-sisterly kiss, with
not quite so much French influence, but after a minute or so, I
decided to go with the flow. Caz had obviously had some practical
kissing experience, all she needed was a grounding in the theory of
who she should be doing it with. Hundred-inch titties or not, she was
going to be a very big hit with the boys before long.
I struggled free, gasping for air. I had heard a car pulling up. "I
think Jessica's back", I panted, "let's see what she says.
**********
We all sat around and watched, fascinated. At first, there was no
response as Caz held Baby next to one of her giant breasts. She wet a
finger and ran it around the nipple, she gently massaged the tip of
her cow's-udder-sized mound. We had almost given up, and Jessica was
on the verge of taking Baby back from the girl and explaining that
just because you have enormous breasts it doesn't follow that you can
produce milk.
But now Caz had a little smile on her face. She looked almost
blissful. Baby's mouth opened and she blindly butted her face against
Caz's teat, before taking it into her mouth, and starting to suckle.
Before long, Baby was grooving away thinking it was her birthday, milk
was dribbling, streaming down the girl's exposed breast whenever the
baby momentarily lost contact, and tears of joy were running down
Caz's cheeks. And not just Caz's.
I had to go out to the kitchen for a while. Englishmen don't cry,
except perhaps during the end sequence of 'Dirty Dancing'.
**********
It wasn't the complete solution to the problem, but Caz felt so much
better, greatly relieved at having been milked, and feeling as though
she had a purpose to her life. Jessica invited her round to feed Baby
the next day, and the girl's breasts were noticeably smaller. Still
extremely big, far bigger than Jessica's, but at least they were now a
manageable size.
Her sisters tried it, and so did her friends. By the end of the week,
they were all down to Caz's size. Louise got on the phone again, and
arranged for the girls to go into the hospital a couple of days a
week, where they were able to feed babies whose mothers were unable to
produce milk in sufficient quantity.
The girls' school made arrangements for them to miss classes for their
hospital visits, and to catch up with their studies after school
hours. It was not the most popular arrangement, certainly not with the
girls themselves - they thought it was typical of grown-ups to make
them do extra overtime even though they were helping the hospital by
providing gallons of milk every week - but there were other
compensations.
After all, they had only gone on their coffee binge to increase the
size of their tits, and they had been spectacularly successful. Now,
with regular milking, they had reached the sort of size they had all
fantasised about. They were not short of attention from the boys. They
could have any boy they wanted from the crowds who gathered round
them.
Life wasn't all that bad, after all.
**********
The antidote was produced in record time, and it worked. Claudia
volunteered to try it. Davie told me she had tried to wean herself off
the coffee, but failed, and in a week, her bust had become an absurd
120 inches. The only way to control her growth was for them to go to
bed and virtually stay there. Even so, it was a losing battle.
Within days of taking the antidote, she was back down to a mere 80
inches, and she and Davie decided that would do quite nicely. He's
always been a greedy sod, that Davie.
The Company R & D Department developed a small diffuser to fit into
the water softener, which introduces a regular, metered supply of the
antidote. (The Part Number is YB 263-559, if you have one of the old
models and you wish to bring it up to the latest specification.) The
cost is =A39.99, including VAT, Postage and Packing extra.
The Company also authorised a small regular ex gratia payment to Mrs
Sargent and the other three mothers, sufficient to cover the cost of
'clothing and foundation garments in non-standard sizes' for their
daughters 'until such time as they obtain gainful employment'.
The mothers accepted the money graciously and gratefully.
Louise and I now live in a slightly more luxurious villa on the
outskirts of Skingsley. There's a splendid view of the river and the
hills, and plenty of room for Acme and the twins to play. She still
takes an occasional cup of coffee, although she maintains a sense of
proportion. A level-headed girl, Louise.
**********
That's more or less the end of the story.
All that remains is the unresolved question of the Linda Shoesmith
bust measurement. As we promised in the fourth paragraph back in
Chapter 4. It seems so long ago now. We rather left Linda high and dry
- well, probably not dry - after that. But a promise is a promise. You
want her bust measurement, go round and see her for yourselves. Take a
tape measure. Tell her you're a carpet salesman or something.
The address is 16, Garland Avenue, Skingsley. Look it up in the road
atlas.
THE END
< end of part 2/2 >
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Al, Some Sort Of Dog
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