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o  The Bookshelf Directories offer a very wide variety of stories.  o
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Grown Up Girls (family)
by Some Sort of Dog


WARNING: This story is for those readers over 18 years of 
age who have no objection to reading about young women's 
breasts getting bigger. It is a work of fiction, of 
fantasy, even. Everyone lives happily ever after. None of 
the events described in this story actually took place, 
to the undying regret of the author. No sexual acts are 
described as taking place between adults and minors. No 
young women explode. Nobody gets raped or killed. If you 
get off on that sort of thing, look elsewhere; I hope you 
find it.
None of the characters in this story is real. Their 
names, no matter how ordinary-sounding and everyday, are 
fictitious. Any resemblance to any real person, living or 
dead, is unintentional.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Some of the characters in this story have 
appeared previously in other stories. Tanya's 
Grandmother, Trudy, you may have heard of before 
elsewhere. (She was born and brought up in the United 
States.) Tanya, who appears in this story as a young 
mother of twenty-one, first became known to our readers 
as 'Big Little Sister' when she was only ten, and again 
in the next episode of the same saga, four years later. 
(She also made a special guest appearance in 'Fifth Form 
at St Cat's.) At that time, a number of readers were 
clamouring for more news of Tanya. We told them that the 
story had then reached the present day, so there wasn't 
yet any more to tell. Well, we lied.  Authors, living as 
they do in a dream-world, tell lies rather too often. 
Here's Tanya again, seven relatively uneventful years 
later, in another story narrated (mostly) by her older 
sister.




GROWN-UP GIRLS
by Some Sort of Dog




Part I
Chapter 1: Remember Me?
You might not remember me, but you will almost certainly 
remember Tanya. She's unforgettable! Even though she's 
four years younger than me, she's been my BIG little 
sister since she was ten. We're a lot older now. I moved 
out of our parents' house to live with my boyfriend, 
Paul, and our three little kids. They grow up so fast, 
you only have to turn around and, whoosh, they're off to 
school.
How old are they now? I have to stop and work it out. 
Victoria's ten now, quite the little lady, and the same 
age that Tanya was when I first told you her story. 
Pansy's eight. Those of you who had a chance to read 
about our formative years will perhaps be interested to 
hear that there is a family resemblance!
And what about Tanya's little daughter, Suzanne? She's 
three months younger than Pansy, but if you saw her 
walking down the road you'd think she was older than 
Victoria! It's something in our genes, we know now. Ever 
since Mum showed us girls some old photograph albums, we 
realised that our huge busts, and those of our daughters, 
'run in the family'!
Not that our Mum, although a well-developed woman, is 
anywhere near as big as us. But she thinks *she* is the 
one who must be some kind of a throwback, or freak, as 
*her* mother - our grandmother - also had a gigantic pair 
of tits! Mum was quite pleased not to have grown as big 
as that, she said, although she wouldn't have minded 
having a few more inches, just every now and again!
We had never seen our Grandma Trudy, who was apparently 
born in America. Of course that made her a distant, 
romantic figure to us girls. We'd never even met a real 
live American, yet here was this glamorous woman in the 
photographs, and she was our very own grandmother!
We all laughed, the way you do, looking at those family 
photographs.  Amazing how fashions change. There were 
some photos of our grandparents when they were first 
married. Grandma Trudy was a lovely young woman; slim, 
yet with an enormous bust which seemed to stick out miles 
in front of her. And I'm sure it wasn't just because of 
those strange bras they used to wear in the nineteen-
fifties!
Further on in the album, there were more photos of her. 
The ones that really intrigued us were those that showed 
our Mum as a young girl with her twin sister. In one, 
taken when she was eleven, her tits looked bigger than 
they are now! Not as big as Tanya's had been at that age, 
but of course, not many women's breasts are - not at any 
age!
Mum explained to us that it was her tits that finally got 
her into trouble when she was fifteen. Boys used to run 
around after her, trying to sneak a feel of her lush, 
bouncy boobs. That's when she wasn't running around after 
the boys! It was only a matter of time before she started 
to explore the forbidden world of sex.
It was a forbidden world, certainly, but not an unknown 
one. Grandma Trudy had sternly warned her twin daughters 
about men, and the things they sometimes did to young 
girls, especially well-developed ones. But Mum took all 
those dire warnings literally, being a young girl. The 
warnings were about *men*, not boys, and when Mum became 
pregnant, it was at the hands (if that's the right 
expression) of a sixteen-year-old boy called Vaughan 
something who was obsessed with her large fifteen-year-
old titties.
And that, as Mum said, was that. Her father had shown her 
the door. He had brought shame and humiliation on the 
entire Pym family. She had gone with a no-good no-hoper 
of a boy, with no prospects and no education, and not 
even the common sense to use a contraceptive. Well, she 
had made her bed, and now she could lie in it. Four 
months pregnant, she was thrown out of the family home to 
make her own way in the world with Vaughan. Never, she 
had been told, darken this door again. Grandad Pym was an 
English gentleman, Mum said, and he was obviously not 
averse to using the odd cliche here and there.
As if that hadn't been bad enough, Mum's twin sister, 
Frances, went off the rails as well. I think that was 
grandfather's expression, not mine. She married a man who 
wasn't worthy of her. In fact, they got on quite well 
until a few years ago, but by the time *their* twin 
daughters had reached the age of thirteen, the 
relationship was creaking under the strain of coping with 
two big-busted teenagers flouncing about the house. Even 
sending the girls away to an expensive boarding school 
couldn't save the marriage.
Vaughan, our Dad, had turned out to be pure gold. The 
couple had found a place to live, Vaughan got himself a 
job, and I was born. By the time Tanya arrived, we had 
moved to a bigger house with a garden, we had a three-
year-old (almost) luxury car and Dad had a job which 
brought us every simple comfort we could wish for.
Mum had almost everything she wished for, but not a 
father. Ever since he had thrown her out, Roger Pym had 
never mentioned his daughter's name again. Then he 
followed that up by throwing out Frances as well, and he 
never mentioned hers either! Mum and Grandma Trudy wrote 
to each other from time to time, but letters could be no 
substitute for the lost love of a parent. As Mum said, 
Grandma Trudy had told her it was only her husband's 
stubbornness and pig-headed English pride that prevented 
a reconciliation.
One of the end results of this was that we had never seen 
Grandma Trudy, nor were we likely to, so long as Roger 
Pym - now *Sir* Roger, apparently, after a lifetime of 
service to his country in some obscure department of the 
Foreign Office - allowed his own precious public image to 
come before his own flesh and blood.
The other result, Mum told us, was that she had a younger 
sister she'd never seen. After she and Frances had been 
cut off, Grandma Trudy had had another daughter. Maybe it 
had been a small sign of Roger Pym's remorse that 
although he remained stiff and unbending about allowing 
his daughters back into the family, he had made some 
amends by fathering another child. Another daughter. Amy 
was the same age as Tanya.
The Pyms had more or less retired now, and were living in 
the depths of the countryside somewhere in Herefordshire.


So, for the sake of those readers who are only interested 
(and probably disbelieving) in the big breasts in the 
family, it's just the way we are. There's absolutely 
nothing *wrong* with us, nor with our busty girls, but 
you should try explaining that to the people who stare at 
us when we take our kids out to the shops or to school.  
People can be so horribly cruel. I get rude remarks aimed 
at me. As if it was my fault that the girls are the way 
they are. Tanya says she finds the same thing. She's a 
bit more forthright than me when it comes to dealing with 
the snide comments and the stares and the pointing 
fingers, and worst of all, the jeering laughter in the 
street. Quite a few of these ignorant or thoughtless 
people have found themselves on the receiving end of some 
pretty blunt advice from my sister.
This ridiculous behaviour makes me more than glad that my 
third baby was a boy. Daniel is four, now. I won't be 
having any more children, but you can tell, Tanya would 
like another. A boy, she says. With all the hassle she's 
had, both herself and now with young Suzanne, you can 
hardly blame her.
What about me? I was flat as a board until I was 
thirteen. I almost had the worst of both worlds, having 
been the object of scorn for having no tits, then only a 
few months later, the object of derision for having such 
big ones! I wouldn't wish that on anybody. 


Tanya's breasts had made their first appearance when she 
was eight. My Victoria was very similar, and so was 
little Pansy. Talk about early developers!
And Suzanne? *Her* little titties had arrived before she 
was even SIX.  I couldn't believe it when Tanya showed me 
them one evening in the bath. I had dropped by to visit 
my parents, and Tanya asked me to come upstairs and chat 
while Suzanne was bathing. She had something to show me, 
she said. At that time, my little Victoria, two and a 
half years older, had barely started developing, but her 
young cousin's nipples were puffy little mounds, and the 
swellings on her chest already covered an area as big as 
saucers and almost as deep. I stared at them, fascinated, 
as Tanya soaped the child's growing boobies, and wondered 
how long it would be before Suzanne was as big as her 
vast-breasted mother.
Tanya, who was then nineteen, had an eighty-eight inch 
bust! She had grown steadily for the whole of her teenage 
years. She says she's about ninety inches now so she's 
probably just about as big as she's going to get. It 
sounds strange, three or four inches either way on a 
normal woman's bust would make rather a lot of 
difference. It's not such a big deal when your bust 
measurement is approaching seven and a half feet!
And what about mine? My bust is at the moment a 'mere' 
fifty-eight inches. It gets bigger when I over-eat, like 
at Christmas, but my normal size is never more than 
sixty! Mother told me that's about how big Grandma Trudy 
had been when she'd met Mr Pym, my grandfather.
That memorable bath-night with Suzanne was only two and a 
bit years ago. Since then, my own two girls have both 
grown steadily, and Victoria's titties would not look at 
all out of place in one of those men's specialist 
magazines that cater for the connoisseur of big breasts. 
Pansy's figure, equally, could easily grace the pages of 
an 'ordinary' men's magazine. And what about Suzanne? 
Well, those swellings I first saw in the bath when 
Suzanne was still not even six years old, have since 
matured into a pair of breasts which any fully-grown 
woman might be proud of. Certainly bigger than 
Victoria's.  Where is it all going to end?




Chapter 2:- Grandma Trudy
Thinking back again to that bathnight of Suzanne's, I can 
still feeling the fluttery sensation I had in my stomach 
and pussy when I first saw Suzanne's development. It was 
similar to the feeling I had when Tanya's breasts were 
beginning to really grow. I remembered how I stole her 
bra one night, and stuffed the cups with water-filled 
balloons. And she caught me strutting round my bedroom in 
her new clothes. I was mortified at the time, but from 
then on, Tanya and I developed a very special 
relationship, which has become stronger as we have grown 
older.
Tanya said she looked at my face while she was rinsing 
the soap off little Suzanne's puffy breasts, and she knew 
what I was feeling. I'm sure she knew how wet I was, too. 
Those days of borrowing Tanya's bras and playing nasty 
games with her panties are long gone, although we still 
have a shame-faced laugh about them from time to time. It 
would take a pair of heavy-duty weather balloons to fill 
my sister's bra cups now!
After that first sight of Suzanne's little boobies, I 
took every opportunity to see Tanya and her daughter, and 
I was not disappointed by the child's development. She 
had her first bra when she was six and a half! You can't 
walk into a shop holding a six-year-old by the hand and 
say to the assistant, 'my little girl needs a bra'. Well, 
you *could*, but they just don't make them that size. So 
Tanya took her straight to the woman who makes all our 
bras, Mrs Cooper, and showed Suzanne to her. Mrs Cooper 
wasn't easily shocked, having known our family for the 
best part of ten years, but she was quite prepared to 
made an exception in little Suzanne's case. Shocked? That 
wasn't the word for it!
Well, when she recovered, Mrs Cooper had to admit that 
Suzanne certainly needed support. Her breasts were 
already heavy enough to droop slightly under their own 
weight. But she said there was no point in making a bra 
for her; knowing our family's history, it would be too 
small in a month or two. So she fished out a B-cup, one 
with the smallest body-band she could find, and put it 
around Suzanne's chest, then took a few measurements. She 
ended up taking six inches out of the back and sides of 
the bra. The cups were snug, but not too tight.  Suzanne 
was over the moon! A real woman's bra, at only six.
Mrs Cooper was right about Suzanne needing a new bra in a 
couple of months. Just as Tanya had done, the girl 
developed steadily. She took her to the doctor, the same 
one who had taken such a close interest in Tanya's 
development. It nearly put a permanent end to his career 
when the two of them walked into his surgery! (We heard 
later he'd had to go into hospital with a heart problem. 
I think he's a bit better now.) When they called again 
two weeks later, the new doctor was a young woman, whose 
eyes nearly popped out when she saw Tanya for the first 
time, and the tiny, slim seven-year-old girl with what 
was by then probably a C-cup bust!
The child's breasts continued to grow, and became heavier 
and heavier.  They certainly kept Mrs Cooper busy! She 
stopped modifying existing bras, and made her a new 
custom-built one every two months; each time a tiny bit 
bigger in the body, and quite a lot bigger in the cups. 
The shoulder straps became wider. There were more hooks.
A kid can't grow up looking like that without attracting 
attention at school. Victoria and Pansy were the victims 
of catcalls and jeers from their classmates. Victoria, 
fortunately, was big enough to take care of herself, and 
Pansy as well. After receiving summary punishment from 
Victoria, most of the kids learned their lesson, and 
confined their remarks to those occasions when they were 
well out of range of Victoria's dangerous right hook. 
(I'm sorry if that qualifies as gratuitous violence, but 
girls will be girls.)
Suzanne, though, wasn't so lucky. Living with our Mum and 
Dad, she went to a different school from my two. And the 
hassle she got was far worse. Tanya said most days she 
came home from school in tears after another barrage of 
cruel and foul-mouthed abuse, in school, and on the bus 
home. She could have been perfectly happy with her body; 
her own mother had probably some of the biggest breasts 
in existence, and *she* was happy with hers! Suzanne 
simply couldn't understand how other girls and boys could 
be so ignorant.
Things came to a head, eventually. One day, Tanya phoned 
me in tears.
It was so unlike her. She's the strong one in our family.
"Suzanne says she doesn't want to go to that nasty school 
any more! I don't know what to do. I can't keep her at 
home."
"Why not send her to the one over here, my two are all 
right there. At least, they are now Victoria's sorted 
them out!"
"It's ten miles, Sis. There's no bus at the right time, 
no school bus, it's impossible." Tanya can't drive, for 
obvious reasons. I can, having found a car with enough 
room for my tits behind the wheel (or rather, below it), 
but it's not comfortable for long distances. "I wish she 
was old enough for St Cat's. The twins were happy there, 
and they were pretty big."
"If I remember, there were some other big girls at St 
Cat's, too, weren't there. At the same time as the 
twins?"
Tanya laughed, remembering. "That's right. A whole bunch 
of them. I met them when they were making a film for some 
holiday project. They thought it was a bug they all 
picked up there. Imagine, a titty-bug!  It never was 
explained, as far as I know. Still, this doesn't solve 
the problem of Suzanne."
"How about a private tutor, for a couple of years? St 
Cat's might take her after that if she was up to scratch 
with her school work, she'd be ten, near enough."
"Money, sis! It's all I can do to keep the kid in bras, 
let alone having a private tutor in. Great idea, though! 
Maybe when we win the lottery ..."


It was Grandma Trudy who changed everything. Although she 
didn't know it at the time.
I called in on Mum and Dad and Tanya one afternoon after 
school. I had my three kids with me and they all went out 
into the garden to play with Suzanne. They were playing 
some game involving a bat and ball and ludicrously 
complex rules that had to be explained every two or three 
minutes. It kept them happy. Mum and Dad were watching 
them, trying to make sense of the rules, but failing 
absolutely.
Tanya was indoors, draped across an armchair and talking 
on the phone; wearing a skimpy top and tiny shorts, she 
looked almost unimagineable.  All bare brown legs and 
arms and long hair and acres of cleavage! She grinned up 
at me and waved her fingers, setting several yards of 
breast in motion. It was like that tortoiseshell 
butterfly that flaps his wings in Buckinghamshire and 
sets off a typhoon in the Pacific. I still couldn't 
really believe the way my sister looked, even when I was 
standing there looking right at her. After a while, she 
put the phone down with a husky 'Baaiieeee!', and said, 
"Hi, Sis!"
"Hi, big sister!" The phone rang again immediately.
Mum hurried in, "Give us a bit of peace! It hasn't 
stopped ringing all day. Get it Tan, darling."
A moment later, Tanya tossed the phone over to Mum. "For 
you, this time. Some woman!"
We carried on our conversation while Mum started asking 
all sorts of questions into the phone. "Who? What? 
Mother? MOTHER!"
We stopped and listened. Mum's mother? Grandma Trudy? The 
phone conversation went on and on, and though we strained 
to hear, we only got one side of it. But whatever it was 
about, Mum was getting more and more excited. Finally, 
she signalled frantically for a pen, then wrote a number 
down, before signing off in a flurry of kisses and 
goodbyes. We stared at her, eager for the news.
"My mother! Calling from Herefordshire," as if that were 
on the other side of the Universe. For all I knew, it 
might have been. "She wants to see us all!"
"See us all?" why did we have to sound like a Greek 
chorus?
Mum explained it all. Grandad Pym was going to be out of 
the country for a month. Something to do with his old 
job, Grandma Trudy had said.  He had retired, officially, 
but he had received a top-secret call:, something about a 
crisis in the Balkans. (That was a pretty well-kept top 
secret, I thought, Grandma's just told us all about it).
Anyway, Grandma Trudy was going to be on the lonely side 
for a whole month. She apparently had Amy, her younger 
daughter, the first time we kids had ever heard of *her*, 
but she had a job in the town and lived away from home. 
The domestic staff could look after Grandma's needs, but 
it wasn't the same as having her husband about the house. 
Why not give her long-lost daughter a call, she thought, 
it would be the ideal opportunity for a reconciliation, 
and she would be able to see her grandchildren. Wouldn't 
she?
Well, wouldn't she?
"When is it? I asked Mum. "The school summer holidays 
start in three weeks. We could all go down together, if 
it wasn't too much trouble for her."
"Two weeks' time. Surely, you could get permission for 
the kids to get off school a week early. It's a very 
special occasion, when all's said and done. It could 
almost be a once in a lifetime opportunity."
Tanya was certainly all for it. Anything which took 
Suzanne away from her torment for an extra week would be 
more than welcome, as far as she was concerned.
"I'll speak to the head teacher tomorrow," I said. 
Whatever she says, I'll get them off school. As you say, 
it's once in a lifetime."


And so Mum called Grandma Trudy the next day, and said 
she could certainly pay her a visit, and would it be all 
right if her two daughters and her four grandchildren 
came as well? Silly question, really!
Dad couldn't make it, (perhaps he still wasn't sure how 
he would be received by Grandma Trudy, even after all 
this time) but he said we could use his car as long as I 
left him mine. And on a Saturday morning two weeks later, 
we all piled into Dad's Renault Espace and set off to the 
West. It was a lovely day, the early mist just burning 
off in the warm July sun. The kids asked 'are we nearly 
there yet' after the first three miles, and amused 
themselves trying to say 'red Renault, yellow Renault' 
and counting the number of legs in the names of the pubs 
we passed.
It was just as well we did have a large vehicle. When we 
stopped for a fuel and comfort stop, we almost caused a 
terrible accident as we locked the car and set off toward 
the ladies' toilet. Three women with a combined bust 
measurement of something like sixteen feet, accompanied 
by a little boy and three unusually busty little girls 
caught the attention of a disbelieving delivery van 
driver who collided with the back of a parked car. As we 
drove away up the road, a small fight had just broken 
out.
"Why are those men fighting, Mummy," asked Suzanne. "Are 
we nearly there, yet?"


"Is that her?" whispered Victoria.
"I don't think so, darling," I said, "I think that must 
be the housekeeper." A large woman in a flowery print 
dress had just come out of the front door as we turned 
into the drive. The house was huge, the biggest the 
children had ever seen, close up.
"It's a *palace*," said Pansy, in hushed tones. "Is Nana 
Trudy a queen?"
"Sort of, yes!" I told her. "But not a real queen, not 
like the Queen."
"She can't be the Queen, she's American," said Victoria, 
sternly.  "Americans can't be Queens. They can only be 
Presidents. An *they're* all men."
"Strange," mused Pansy, who wasn't really listening. She 
was trying to count the windows. "Forty-six," she said at 
last, without much conviction. Suzanne, meanwhile, was 
picking her nose and doing something disgusting with the 
proceeds. I thought you ought to know that.
"There she is," said Mum, with a bit of a choking noise 
in her throat.  "That's her!" She opened the window and 
called out to the woman who had come around the side of 
the house carrying a wicker basket and a garden rake. 
"Mother? Mother! MOM!"
Grandma Trudy turned, and saw the car, and her face lit 
up in a huge smile. "May! May, honey! She called. The 
kids nudged each other and giggled. Grandma Trudy really 
*was* an American!
She dropped the basket and the rake, and set off across 
the neatly-trimmed grass towards us. Mum slowly got out 
and stood beside the car door for a moment as Grandma 
Trudy approached, then ran to meet her. They looked, both 
slowly shaking their heads as if not quite believing it, 
then they walked straight into each other's arms, and 
stood there, hugging silently for a long, long time.
Finally, they separated, and linked arms, and walked 
slowly back to the car. Grandma Trudy! I'd have 
recognised her from the photo albums, she'd hardly 
changed at all. Well, she must have done, those pictures 
were taken twenty-odd years ago, but she was still the 
same woman.  Tanya was gazing at her. She was fascinated 
to see from where she'd inherited her special attributes! 
The girls, too, were certainly impressed by Grandma 
Trudy's magnificent bosom! After all, they already knew a 
whole lot about being big girls.
And if the girls were impressed, so was Grandma Trudy! 
She looked at Mum, slim but large-breasted, then at me, 
then at Tanya, unable to believe her eyes. And as 
Victoria and Pansy and Suzanne were introduced and shyly 
shook hands, she couldn't believe them either!  She 
seemed relieved to be able to say hello to Daniel, at 
least he didn't have big tits!
"How old did you say these kids were?" she asked in 
disbelief as we set off for the house, Pansy and Suzanne 
holding Grandma's hands, the others clinging to us but 
not taking their eyes off their fascinating grandmother 
for a second. We all went round the side of the house, 
where Grandma Trudy had been working on the flower-beds. 
The French windows stood open, and there was a heavy oak 
table and chairs on the flag-stoned patio. The house-
keeper appeared as if by magic.
"Maisie! This is my long-lost family, my daughter and my 
grown-up grand-children, and even my grown-up great-
grand-children!" Grandma Trudy spread her arms to 
encompass the whole brood. "Do you think you could rustle 
up some lemonade for this lot. We'll sit and enjoy it out 
here."
Maisie looked as if she'd never seen so many such grown-
up people in her life. Her eyes were almost out of their 
sockets as she stared at me and Tanya, then at the girls. 
"Yes, maam!" she muttered, and hurried off, looking back 
as if she expected us all to disappear. We didn't.
"Now, then!" Grandma Trudy settled back in a chair, the 
two younger girls attaching themselves to her, one on 
each side. "We've got an awful lot to tell each other. 
Where should we start?"


The rest of the morning flew by. We had lunch, served by 
Maisie and an extraordinary young girl called Clarrie, 
who could easily have been mistaken for part of our 
family! "She's from the village, Roger employed her about 
ten seconds after she came up for an interview!  She's 
sixteen, going on thirty-five, you know what these 
village girls are like!" (I didn't, but from Grandma 
Trudy's tone it was clear their lives were one long round 
of eating, sleeping and sex.)
By afternoon, the sun was blazing down on the patio. 
Grandma Trudy suggested cooling off. "Who wants to go 
swimming?" she suggested, and the kids went wild.
"We haven't any swimsuits with us," Mum reminded us all. 
Grandma Trudy laughed.
"It's pretty private round here. I don't think it would 
offend anyone too much if we skinny-dipped. But I bet we 
could find a costume or two about the house if you're 
feeling bashful." And she called Maisie.
Half an hour later, we were all ready to take to the 
water. Maisie had a stretchy one-piece swimsuit that more 
or less fitted Mum. The maid, Clarrie, had supplied a 
bikini, which I could just about squeeze myself into, 
although it might be a different matter keeping it on.  
The top was overflowing and I had to keep pulling the 
bottoms back up every three minutes. Tanya had no hope at 
all of finding anything to fit her, so she dug out one of 
her sleeveless tops and a pair of panties. Grandma Trudy 
looked staggering in her custom-made bikini!  The girls, 
especially Victoria, were shy at first, until they got 
used to the idea, then they stripped off to just their 
panties. They looked incredible with their big breasts 
bouncing around!
The pool was as big as our whole garden at Mum's and 
Dad's place. The kids leapt in and ploughed up and down, 
squealing and splashing. In one corner of the pool was 
some kind of water circulating device, pumping the water 
out, filtering it and pumping it back in again. It made a 
sort of jet that squirted upwards under the water. Tanya 
discovered it first. I noticed her floating in the corner 
of the pool with a dreamy expression on her face. After a 
while, she splashed across to me and said, "try that 
corner over there, it's amazing!" I did, and it was!
Eventually, Grandma Trudy shouted to us to come away from 
that jet, you couple of horny grand-daughters, and we 
felt as if we'd been caught jacking-off. We paddled over 
to the other side of the pool and Grandma Trudy laughed 
at us. "That's young Clarrie's favourite spot, that 
corner," she said quietly so the children couldn't hear 
her. "It used to be mine, too, but I could be getting 
kind of old for that sort of thing now!"
At last, one by one, we crawled out of the water and lay 
in the sun, drying off. We made sure the children put 
their tops on and told them to sit in the shade, but in 
no time they were frolicking round on the grass, playing 
their favourite ball game. We watched them. It was 
exhausting. Suddenly, we heard a car scrunching on the 
gravel drive, then footsteps came round the side of the 
house. Grandma Trudy looked up. "May," she said to Mum, 
"It's time you met your little sister, Amy!"




Chapter 3:- Amy
Mum had jumped to her feet. She was staring at the sister 
she had never seen. Until she'd had the phone call from 
Grandma Trudy, she had never even mentioned Amy to us 
girls. Perhaps she thought it would be kinder to us not 
to acknowledge her sister's existence at all, rather than 
have her flitting around in the background like a ghost 
we knew was there but never came right out and actually 
haunted us.
Amy was staring at Mum. She had heard about her older 
twin sisters, but the version she got was always heavily 
edited, an authorised version which would satisfy her 
father. Secretly, Grandma Trudy had told Amy, a little at 
a time, how she would love to see her elder daughters 
just once more, before she died, and Amy tried to imagine 
what her sisters were like. She failed completely, of 
course! All she really knew about our Mum was that she 
had got herself pregnant by the village layabout when she 
was only fifteen!
The two women approached each other cautiously, then 
stopped, still three yards apart. Grandma Trudy carried 
on: "These are May's daughters ..." and she introduced me 
and Tanya to her, then she pointed out the children, who 
were now engrossed in some sort of litigation over who 
was the next one in to bat.
But I haven't described Amy, have I? I always have to be 
reminded to describe people. I look at them, and I take 
in what I see, and I assume everyone I'm telling the 
story to can see them as well ...!  Well, the family 
feature was there, all right! And I suppose that's what 
my dedicated readers wanted to hear. Amy was a little 
taller than me. Excuse me, she was Mum's sister, so I 
ought really to compare her in appearance to Mum, but she 
was so close to us sisters in age that I automatically 
thought of her as one of us, our generation, as it were.
So, taller than me, not by a lot, about five-five. 
Slimmer than me, too, in fact, very slim indeed compared 
to Tanya, who has always been quite a lot chunkier even 
after she lost the puppy fat in her very early teens. Her 
hair was dark, Tanya's colour. Her bust ...
No, I'm getting ahead of myself. She was dressed for 
work, in a skirt and blouse. The blouse was white and 
loose-fitting, not tucked in at the waist, so it hung 
straight down from her breasts. I suppose she did that to 
disguise them, or at least, to try to. We'd all tried, 
and failed, at one time or another.
Disguise didn't work for Amy any better than it had for 
us. And as she looked at me, then across at Tanya, she 
seemed to feel the wave of sympathy flowing amongst the 
three of us, all similar in age and in development, and 
she smiled at the same time as me, and Tanya grinned at 
us both and bounced up off the patio where she was 
sprawled. Once Tanya was standing up and Amy could see 
her figure, she gasped. For the first time in her life 
she saw a girl with a bigger bust than she herself had, 
although it was a close thing. I got up, too, and went 
over to Amy, and she sized me up, too.
"Hello," she said. "Looks like we've got a lot in 
common!"
I'd heard of some uses for big breasts, but this was the 
first time I'd heard of them being used to break the ice!


We all got on like a house on fire after the first few 
minutes. Amy lived in the town, and worked in a large 
office, insurance or something, where she said she met a 
lot of men, but she wasn't seeing anyone. From the way 
she said that, it felt as if she'd *never* seen anyone. 
Men were scared of her, she told us as the three of us 
sat on the patio in the evening sunlight, idly watching 
the kids playing on the back lawn.
"How old are the children?" she asked. "I know you 
probably told me, but there was so much going on I can't 
have taken it in."
"My three are ten, eight and four," I told her.
"Suzanne's eight," said Tanya.
"But wait a minute, which one's Suzanne?"
"The one with the biggest tits!" laughed Tanya, "in the 
yellow top."
"You know," said Amy, shaking her head, "that's what I 
thought you said earlier, but I thought it would be rude 
to ask you again." She watched the children for a few 
more minutes. "Gosh, they're all very advanced, but 
Suzanne's really something else, isn't she?" she shook 
her head in disbelief as Suzanne started jumping up and 
down on the spot, stopping after a few seconds, holding 
her breasts still with both hands.
Grandma Trudy had quietly appeared from the house, with 
our Mum by her side. "We were just looking at some family 
photographs in the album," she said, there are some of me 
when I was their age ..." she looked out at the children, 
her eyes misty. "I looked just like that. God, I had a 
fifty-six inch bust on my eleventh birthday, and it was 
up to sixty-three long before I was twelve!"
Tanya shook her head slowly. "Did you just keep on 
getting bigger after that, Grandma?" The word 'Grandma' 
sounded funny after all this time.
Grandma Trudy's face clouded over. "That's a time I'd 
rather not talk about, honey, even after so many years! 
For a long time, I remembered nothing, but later, with 
Tim, that's my brother, I pieced together the story. It 
was not ... not pleasant at all. All I can say is that I 
went down to less than 80 pounds, what's that, I never 
could work it out, less than six stone, and I was flat as 
an ironing board for years!
We looked at her now, trying to imagine her weighing six 
stone and flat as a board. Nope! I couldn't manage it, 
and nor could Tanya, by the look on her face.
"But I put it all back on, and sheesh, it sure changed my 
life!" The kids saw her, and came running over, their big 
titties bouncing like great rubber balls. "You look after 
those kids, you hear!" she whispered to us, and there 
were tears in her eyes as she gathered them all to her 
bosom.




Chapter 4:- Climbing The Walls
Meanwhile, inside the house, people were climbing the 
walls.
To be precise, two people were climbing the walls. One 
was the maid, Clarrie. The buxom teenager was deeply 
frustrated. The batteries on her new vibrator had died. 
Already! Mr Pym had only given her the thing just before 
he went away. Two days ago. Surely, batteries ought to 
last longer than that. Mind you, Clarrie had given the 
toy some pretty intensive use since Sir Roger had gone 
away, but even so, they shouldn't have gone flat in *two 
days*!
She sobbed in frustration and lay back on her bed, her 
legs spread and her black skirt up round her waist. Why 
did the Master have to leave her like this? There ought 
to be a law against it. Cruelty to serving wenches. 
Frantically, she brought herself to a fairly 
unsatisfactory climax, then lay panting. Tomorrow, she 
would take the vibrator down to the newsagents in the 
village and have Mr Patel fit some new batteries. She'd 
ask for the ones that always lasted longer on the TV 
commercials.
Meanwhile, there was a whole evening and a whole night to 
get through.  Clarrie had forgotten what it felt like to 
be without a man for as long as two days. Sir Roger had 
kept her well serviced ever since he had first employed 
her. In fact, even at the interview, he had given her 
such a seeing-to that her knees hadn't stopped trembling 
for the rest of the day. Since then, whenever she felt 
like it, which was most of the time, Sir Roger had been 
only too ready to oblige.
She smiled at the recollection of how she had applied for 
the vacancy in the first place. There hadn't even *been* 
a vacancy, come to think of it! She had mentioned to her 
friend, Barry Overdown, that she was leaving school, and 
was looking for a job. Barry was the captain of the 
village cricket club, and knew just about everyone. "Give 
Sir Roger a try, up at the house. Place that size, he'll 
always need a bit of help. 'Sides, they reckon he likes 
his girls on the large side, if you know what I mean!"
Clarrie knew what Barry meant. Since she had awarded her 
virginity to the cricket club when she was fourteen, she 
had made the acquaintance of quite a lot of men who liked 
their girls on the large side. She had done her very best 
to please them. People still talked about Clarrie's 
inaugural night behind the cricket pavilion, when she had 
taken on all comers, single-handed. Somebody had even 
kept the score with the big white numbers hanging on the 
scoreboard. By the time her father came looking for her 
at midnight, young Clarrie had exhausted nine fit men and 
three enthusiastic teenage boys. The rest of the playing 
members had been dragged away home by their wives.
So, on Barry's suggestion, she had put her best clothes 
on, squeezed herself into a bra that was six months past 
its best, unfastened the top three buttons of her blouse 
and knocked on the door of the big house. Maisie had 
opened the door to her, and gaped in horror at the sight 
of the village bicycle standing on the front step with 
her tits practically bursting out of her bodice. Maisie 
had her finger raised ready to indicate the way home to 
the girl, when Sir Roger came out of one of the 
downstairs rooms and caught a glimpse of a pair of 
enormous young titties.
"Who's this, Maisie?" he had asked, raising an eyebrow as 
he came to the doorway and took in the full picture of 
Clarrie.
"Her name's Clarrie, Sir Roger, from the village ..." She 
had been about to detail Clarrie's recent spectacular 
history, that this was the girl who had single-handedly 
cut a swathe through the pride of Herefordshire's young 
manhood, when Sir Roger boomed, "Show the girl in, 
Maisie, into my study, please!"
>From then on, the sex lives of the young men of the 
village and its environs could return to something like 
normal. Clarrie was heartily serviced right there on the 
top of Sir Roger's leather-topped desk, and she started 
her duties at the house the next morning. Her mother 
proudly told everyone who would listen that her big 
daughter was now 'in service' up at Sir Roger's. And 
'service' summed up Clarrie's duties more adequately than 
her mother ever imagined.
But now, for the first time, Clarrie was without her 
master for more than a few hours. She ran her still 
slippery fingers up and down the slit of her richly-
furred pussy, giving an involuntary twitch as they 
reached the top. She shuddered, and slipped her fingers 
inside again.  Ten minutes later, she was as horny as 
ever. A whole month of this? It was only two days and she 
was climbing the walls in frustration!
Then, from a couple of rooms away along the landing, she 
heard the most enormous crash. She sat bolt upright on 
the bed, then thought she had better investigate.


Clarrie had been climbing the walls in frustration. So 
was young Davie, but he was climbing them literally. 
Until he fell off the chest of drawers.
Davie was Maisie's only child. He was grounded for a 
week. He hadn't *meant* to let down the tyres on the 
policeman's bicycle. It was Ben Shakespeare's fault. 
Everything was always Ben's fault. Ben had bet him he 
couldn't nick half a dozen apples, one for each of the 
gang, from the display at the front of the greengrocers's 
shop on the main street.
There had been no problem until Ben had hissed, 'look 
out, it's old Growler', and given Davie a shove that sent 
apples, grapefruit, cabbages and this season's almost-
ripe nectarines rolling all over the footpath and into 
the gutter. The boys had scattered, but Davie had been 
last to get away and had to take shelter behind a dustbin 
down a side alley. Sergeant Growler had dismounted from 
his bike with ponderous grace, and proceeded into the 
shop to question why the shopkeeper's display was rolling 
down the village street, causing h'an obstruction to the 
'ighway.
Davie peered out from his hiding place, and saw Ben's 
face looking round a corner on the far side of the road. 
He was pointing at something, and signalling frantically. 
After a couple of minutes of miming, he gathered that Ben 
was suggesting that it might be a good idea if Davie let 
old Growler's tyres down. The next thing he knew, there 
was a heavy hand on his collar.
"In the old days, so they tell me, I could've clipped him 
round the h'ear and 'ear no more about it," Sergeant 
Growler had told Maisie, at the police station. "But that 
would be assault, nowadays. So have I got to charge him, 
and fill in sixteen pages of paperwork, or are you going 
to take the bugger home and ground him for a week?"
"Leave him to me, Dan," Maisie said, "I'll sort him out!"
She would, thought Dan Growler. He quite fancied Maisie, 
tasty bit of widow, she was. And young Davie was all 
right, just needed straightening out. Needed a Dad, poor 
little sod. He'd let him go, as soon as he had pumped up 
both tyres, using a hand-pump.
This was the third day of Davie's imprisonment. "You'll 
stay in your room until I say you can come out," his 
mother told him. "You can't leave the house and gardens 
anyway for a week, but today you're staying in your 
bedroom. The lady's daughter and her family are arriving, 
and I'll be too busy to have you around creating 
mischief."
Davie had been lying on his bed. The devil, as ever, 
found work for idle hands. He heard footsteps coming up 
the back stairs, and Clarrie's bedroom door closed. He 
had become aware recently of Clarrie, who he now realised 
was easily the most beautiful woman in the whole wide 
world. She was decidedly plump and extremely pretty, and 
had such huge boobies, he reflected, as he lay there, 
feeling a warm, comforting throbbing building up inside 
his boxer shorts.
A faint buzzing noise carried to his ears as he fondled 
himself. What was she doing. Shaving? Did women shave? 
Clarrie never seemed to have any traces of a beard or 
moustache. The buzzing stopped. In fact, it sort of died 
away. "Ooooh, Clarrie," he said to himself, trying out 
the sound of the word. He liked it and tried again, and 
found his erection becoming more throbby. He took himself 
in hand.
What was that? Girls' voices? Coming from outside. It 
must be the lady's grandchildren. Sounded like a bunch of 
kids running around.  That's all he wanted, a house full 
of bloody *girls*! And him grounded, so he couldn't even 
get away from them. Oh, shit. The disappointing thought 
had caused his erection to get floppy. That's what girls 
did for you.
Davie rolled off the bed and stood up. The kids were in 
the pool now, he could hear them squealing and splashing 
around down there. He went to the window. The servants' 
quarters were on the top floor, and the rooms on this 
side of the house had dormer windows let into the slope 
of the roof. By looking out of his window, he had a 
partial view of the pool, cut off by the edge of the 
roof. Idly, he looked across that way. What was THAT!!!
He had caught a brief glimpse of a woman, or a girl, with 
no top on.  Usually, women wore swimsuits or bikinis to 
go swimming. This, Davie accepted, was only right and 
proper. He had tried, several times, to imagine Clarrie 
without a bikini top, but failed. Therefore, he 
concluded, women *ought* to wear something to cover up 
their boobies.  It seemed logical to him.
Now, down there, a woman was frolicking around in and out 
of the pool.  And, if his eyes weren't playing tricks, 
she wasn't wearing a bra. He strained to see more, but 
couldn't. The chest of drawers beneath the window was in 
the way. He clambered on top of it, and found he could 
just see a bit more of the pool. There was the woman 
again, if he squashed his face against the glass, he 
could just see her back, and she wasn't wearing a top. 
Definitely!
His hand strayed to his shorts again, where there were 
welcome signs of life. Oooh, that feels nice, he thought, 
taking a warm handful of himself. There she is again, 
turning round. That's not a woman, that's only a girl! 
But shit, she's big! Then she moved out of sight again.  
Davie tugged at the window. It was an old-fashioned sash 
window that slid upwards to open. But it had been painted 
over years ago, and didn't open any more. Not easily, 
anyway. Frustration lent Davie extra strength. The window 
moved a fraction, he heaved again, and the woman or girl 
appeared once more. No, it wasn't the same one, this was 
a smaller girl.
Oh, shit, no, not a little girl; he thought, then 
realised that *this* little girl wasn't all that little. 
Her tits were even bigger than the other one! One more 
heave, and the window would be open, and he would get his 
head outside. That was when he fell off the chest of 
drawers in a flurry of odds and ends, books, video 
cassettes, souvenirs and the alarm clock. He hit the 
floor, still accelerating.
"Ouch! Me fuckin' ankle!"
He lay there, winded and damaged, checking himself for 
broken bits.
His erection was still working, he was relieved to 
discover.
"Davie, you all right?"
A voice from outside his bedroom door. Clarrie?
"Yes, thanks. I think so, anyway. I fell over."
Clarrie tried the handle and the door opened. Davie was 
lying in a heap by the window. She looked around the 
room, the same shape as hers, but a boy's room, full of 
boy things. And, if she wasn't mistaken, full of boy! She 
hesitated, then went closer, bending over him.
He was a big boy for fourteen, she thought, her eyes 
taking in the well-defined shoulders revealed by his 
cutaway undervest, and a distinctly promising bulge in 
his shorts.
"You sure you're okay, Davie?" she said softly, in the 
voice that had seduced an entire cricket club in a single 
night. It was overkill as far as Davie was concerned. His 
erection sprang to full attention, and found its way out 
into the open air through the front of his shorts.
"My ankle hurts," he said, "can you help me get up?"
He hasn't even noticed his willie's sticking out, thought 
Clarrie. And by the look of him, he doesn't need any help 
to get up. "Here, hold my arm. Steady!" He was so strong! 
He'd nearly pulled her down on top of him.
Davie couldn't believe what was happening. Clarrie was so 
close, he could touch her. In fact, she'd told him to 
hold her arm. He did, and she nearly overbalanced. Must 
be difficult balancing with those bloody great things on 
your chest, he thought, realising that they were even 
bigger at close quarters. Very close! His head would get 
lost between those things. He could smell her, and it was 
nice. No, not nice, that wasn't the word. The English 
teacher was right; 'nice' wasn't the word to use here. He 
wished he could think of some more words to describe the 
smell of Clarrie. Whatever, the smell was doing things to 
his ...  ooops! How did that get out there?
Clarrie could even smell her own arousal. She had come 
straight to Davie's room without putting her panties on; 
and now that she was squatting down, with her short skirt 
riding up, her moist pussy-odour was distinctly 
noticeable. It even excited her, especially the 
realisation that Davie could smell it, too, and it was 
affecting him.
"C'mon, let's get you on the bed, then I'll have a good 
look at your ankle," she murmured. And an even better 
look at a few other things, she thought. "I've done first 
aid," she said. It's a pity he doesn't need mouth-to-
mouth resuscitation.
This time, they made it. Davie stood up, his weight on 
Clarrie's arm, and he half-hopped to his bed, then sat on 
the edge of it. Clarrie sat beside him.
"There, that's better, isn't it?" she purred.
It certainly was.
She ran a hand around his back and felt the firm muscles 
ripple beneath her fingers as they flirted with the broad 
elastic top of his shorts. She brought her hand back the 
other way, slipping it into the top of the cleavage 
between the taut cheeks of his boyish bottom. He clutched 
at his cock, which tried to escape.
"Leave that alone," she said, sternly. "Anyone would 
think you'd never sat next to a girl before. Or a woman!" 
Suddenly, she whipped her hand up behind his back, 
tugging his undervest with it, and carried on strongly to 
pull it up and over his head. Davie was too shocked to 
resist. "Got to check for any broken bones," Clarrie 
whispered, placing her mouth very close to his ear as 
soon as his head emerged from the vest. Very close 
indeed. He could feel her hot breath in his earhole.
"Now. Let me look at you, Dav-eee. Lie back!"
Feeling powerless, Davie slowly lowered his back on to 
the cool bedclothes. His feet came off the floor and his 
knees automatically drew themselves up to protect his 
genitalia. Clarrie laughed musically and gently pushed 
them down again. Now he was bent backwards across the 
bed, helpless as a sheep on its back. He felt Clarrie's 
soft touch on his thighs, rubbing gently up and down the 
insides of his legs.  Then her hands were gone, and when 
they came back, they were round his waist, ever so gently 
easing down his shorts. He resisted for half a second, 
then raised his hips just enough to let the shorts slide 
down.  There was a brief delay as they snagged on some 
obstruction, then they came free.
"Good boy! That's the way. You're getting the idea! 
Bloody Hell!"
The last bit was Clarrie's reaction to Davie's now 
completely-unveiled cock, waving in the air above his 
belly. Impatiently, she ripped the shorts down to his 
ankles then abandoned them, leaving him to kick them off 
altogether. The boy was hung!
Although Clarrie knew perfectly well that it didn't 
matter how big it was - after all, the cricket club had 
provided her with the full range from five inches up to 
nearly nine - it was pleasant to find a nice big one to 
play with while Sir Roger was away. And if she wasn't 
mistaken, this one was even bigger than Sir Roger's! 
She was kneeling beside Davie on the bed, now, and all 
she had to do was lower her head and open her mouth. He 
slipped inside her, and as she adjusted the angle of her 
head, they both felt him make contact with the back of 
her throat. She slurped on him, her saliva cool yet hot, 
her head bobbing gently up and down, her long hair 
brushing his thighs and stomach.
Davie lay there, unable to move in case she bit it off 
and swallowed it. Clarrie was still fully dressed, which 
he found enormously exciting. Raising his head, he could 
see the girl's monster boobies in the big black bra he 
had seen in the airing cupboard, the whole lot hanging 
heavily downward inside her maid's white blouse. Closer 
to him, her flared skirt was riding up over her thighs 
and hips.  Surprisingly, and excitingly, she wasn't 
wearing any knickers. He thought all girls wore knickers. 
Maybe Clarrie had forgotten to put hers on.
He reached out a hand and placed it on the cool, soft 
flesh of her upper leg. Delight! It felt like an oven-
ready turkey. She wriggled closer to him, still sucking 
deeply on his cock, then stepped over his body with one 
leg without so much as missing a beat. This girl was fit, 
he thought. Now, he didn't need to raise his head to 
improve the view. Just lying back, he had a grandstand 
seat of the finest sight in the world.
Inches above his face, Clarrie's hairy bottom rose and 
fell. Every time it came closest to his face, he received 
another whiff of that incredibly sexy smell. But this was 
a girl's *bottom*! Surely, he shouldn't be feeling like 
this. He thought about it for a while, and realised he 
certainly did. Quickly, he reached up with both hands and 
gripped Clarrie's broad, plump hips, heaving her down 
until her steaming loins slopped all over his mouth and 
nose. Faintly, he heard the girl give out a long, low 
moan.
Still not fully believing what he was doing, he put his 
tongue out and found something unbelievably tasty to eat. 
Clarrie wriggled her wide rump from side to side as she 
settled further down on Davie's face.  Was she trying to 
suffocate him? In a flash of panic, he realised, if the 
girl wanted to, she could bite his willie off and 
suffocate him to death all in one go. She was heavy 
enough, he'd never get away.
So, realising there was nothing he could do about it, he 
lay there as this wonderful big girl fucked him with her 
mouth. It was coming, the feeling. Oh, shit. He was going 
to do it. It would go in Clarrie's mouth. He tried to 
shout a warning, but with his face where it was, no sound 
came out, only a wet, bubbly vibration which seemed to 
send Clarrie into a frenzy. Clarrie needed no warning, 
anyway! She knew what was coming, all right.
Although, when it came, the quantity surprised her 
somewhat. She swallowed most of it, but lots more 
dribbled out between her lips.  Meanwhile, down in the 
engine-room, Davie received a faceful of something 
scalding hot and wet. He hoped it wasn't what he thought 
it was. It wasn't.
Clarrie had turned herself round, her breasts now 
squashed massively against Davie's chest as their mouths 
met. Davie's first real woman kiss tasted totally unlike 
anything he had been led to expect. His own salty semen, 
still drooling out of Clarrie's mouth, mingled with the 
girl's own fishy juices as she probed his mouth with her 
hot little tongue.
She raised her body up, her long hair still brushing his 
nipples.
"Oh, fucking hell, Davie, I've got to make the tea. 
Salmon sandwiches, Maisie says!" She rolled off him and 
stood by the bed, smoothing her skirt down over her 
thighs and fluffing her hair into some sort of shape. 
"How do I look?" she asked, the way women always do. 
Davie reached out for her, but she laughed happily and 
dodged backwards toward the door.
"You watch that ankle, right? I'll come back afterwards 
and make sure you're comfortable! I promise! See ya 
later!"





<end 1/4>

From:	acotto@gate.net (Anthony Cotto)
	Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject:	Grown-up Girls, Part 2 (big breasts, yng teen)
Date:	4 Dec 1995 16:59:26 -0500
	Message-ID: <49vqvu$1f8g@navajo.gate.net>

THIS STORY WAS NOT WRITTEN BY ME!!!
I am posting it as a favor to the author, who wishes to 
remain anonymous. 
Any e-mail received by me will be forwarded to the 
author. 



GROWN-UP GIRLS
by Some Sort of Dog


WARNING: This story is for those readers over 18 years of 
age who have no objection to reading about young women's 
breasts getting bigger. It is a work of fiction, of 
fantasy, even. Everyone lives happily ever after. None of 
the events described in this story actually took place, 
to the undying regret of the author. No sexual acts are 
described as taking place between adults and minors. No 
young women explode. Nobody gets raped or killed. If you 
get off on that sort of thing, look elsewhere; I hope you 
find it.
None of the characters in this story is real. Their 
names, no matter how ordinary-sounding and everyday, are 
fictitious. Any resemblance to any real person, living or 
dead, is unintentional.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Some of the characters in this story have 
appeared previously in other stories. Tanya's 
Grandmother, Trudy, you may have heard of before 
elsewhere. (She was born and brought up in the United 
States.) Tanya, who appears in this story as a young 
mother of twenty-one, first became known to our readers 
as 'Big Little Sister' when she was only ten, and again 
in the next episode of the same saga, four years later. 
(She also made a special guest appearance in 'Fifth Form 
at St Cat's.) At that time, a number of readers were 
clamouring for more news of Tanya. We told them that the 
story had then reached the present day, so there wasn't 
yet any more to tell. Well, we lied.  Authors, living as 
they do in a dream-world, tell lies rather too often. 
Here's Tanya again, seven relatively uneventful years 
later, in another story narrated (mostly) by her older 
sister.




GROWN-UP GIRLS
by Some Sort of Dog




Part II
Chapter 5:- Trudy's Tale
The girls had drifted off and gone back in the pool. We 
persuaded Amy to come for a swim as well, and in no time 
we were all shrieking and splashing around in the cool 
water. Amy still couldn't take in the sight of the 
youngsters, with their outrageous development. She kept 
staring at them, and eventually she came and sat next to 
me on the edge of the pool, dangling our toes in the 
water.
"It's funny, you know," she said, "I shouldn't feel this 
way, but those kids with their big titties makes me feel 
all gooey inside!  Don't get me wrong, you being their 
mother and all, but you know what I mean?"
"I know exactly what you mean. They look like little 
women, yet they're just kids. Coming down here this 
morning, they were asking every five minutes, 'are we 
nearly there, yet?' And they have to put up with a lot of 
shit from the other girls at school. Especially young 
Suzanne."
"I can imagine," Amy said. "I was nothing like the size 
of them at their age, yet the other girls made my life 
misery when these things started to grow. Trouble was, I 
know they were jealous, yet I hated my tits so much, I 
couldn't see why the others *should* be jealous, you 
know? They were welcome to them, if they wanted them!"
"It's doing them good, anyway, getting off school early. 
Look at them, I haven't seen them so relaxed and happy 
for months."
They had all leapt out of the pool and streamed off 
across the garden in a weaving line at top speed. It all 
went quiet as they ran off into the distance. From the 
house, there was the sound of a distant crash.
"What was that?" I said.
"Don't know, Maisie must have dropped the dinner in the 
kitchen."


Clarrie was in trouble.
Maisie came into the kitchen to see how the teenager was 
progressing with the sandwiches for teatime. She found 
the girl had hardly started, she had only just started 
buttering the bread. 
"Have you taken the salmon out of the fridge, Clarrie?" 
Maisie asked.
"Not yet, I'm still doing the butter."
"Funny, I thought I could smell it! Wait a minute, girl! 
That's *you*!  What have you been up to? Even when Sir 
Roger's away, you still manage to stink of sex!"
Clarrie blushed and stammered, but Maisie stepped closer 
and whisked the girl's skirt up.
"You filthy slut! No panties again. And juice running 
down your fat legs! I suppose you've been playing with 
that bloody vibrator of your again. Get out! Have a 
shower and get your big whore's arsehole back down here 
in ten minutes! Move!"
Clarrie fled, sobbing, her huge tits bouncing as she 
scampered out of the kitchen and up the back stairs to 
the servants' bathroom.
At least, when she presented herself to Maisie fifteen 
minutes later, she was a little fresher, although her 
bottom was still much the same size as before.
"Show me!" Maisie insisted.
Clarrie pulled up the hem of her skirt to reveal 
relatively clean white panties.
"Right, get on with those sandwiches. A right good 
spanking's what you deserve, girl."
Clarrie smiled to herself. That was the nicest thing 
Maisie had said to her all day.


"Tanya, honey, come and sit next to your Grandma." Tanya 
grinned at Grandma Trudy and sat beside her at the table. 
I perched on the bench on her other side. Our children 
gathered round. "Help yourselves, now, don't stand around 
letting these sandwiches get cold. Salmon and cucumber? 
Here you are, Suzanne, can't you reach?" Suzanne was 
struggling to reach across the table, her breasts were 
dangerously close to destroying a most impressive cream 
cake. Grandma Trudy took the girl's plate and loaded it 
up with food. "That enough? You're a growing girl, you 
know!"
Suzanne knew. We all knew.
The kids tucked in with a vengeance, clearing all the 
sandwiches in record time, and making massive inroads 
into the cakes.
"They seem to have quite an appetite, must be all this 
fresh air and exercise," said Tanya, shaking her head as 
Suzanne wolfed an enormous hunk of cream cake. There was 
chocolate smeared all over her face and a dollop of cream 
had fallen into her cleavage. Pansy reached across and 
scooped it out.
"That's mine," squealed the aggrieved girl, and made a 
grab for the cream. Too late, it was already disappearing 
into Pansy's mouth.  Suzanne stuffed the last of her cake 
into her mouth and went in search of more.
"You'll burst, child!" Tanya wailed in despair. "You must 
think we never feed them at home, Gran."
"I was beginning to wonder, honey. Never mind, they'll 
get enough activity in the next few weeks. They'll burn 
it all up."
As the children finally drifted away from the table, 
still squabbling good-naturedly; Tanya sat forward, 
resting her mountainous bust on the table with a little 
sigh. Grandma Trudy watched her with a smile.  "That's 
right, Tanya, take the weight off your back. I know just 
how it feels, carrying that lot around. You're a lot 
bigger than me, now, but when I was just a kid, like I 
told you, mine were pretty huge."
"Maybe you can explain to the kids, sometime, Gran. Show 
them your old photos, perhaps," suggested Tanya. "They'd 
appreciate knowing that they're not just freaks."
"Freaks, hey? Is that what they're calling them? Well, 
isn't it true?  I was a freak, sure. So are you two, 
Tanya especially. But it's just Mother Nature having her 
bit of fun. There's nothing wrong with us, and nothing 
wrong with Suzanne, either. But I will; tomorrow, I'll 
have a word with them."
We sat in silence for a while. Mum and Amy were strolling 
in the distance, beyond the pool. The children had 
started their ball game again. Grandma Trudy took a deep 
breath. "You know, earlier, when I said I didn't want to 
talk about ... when I was a kid? I think I ought to tell 
you. It's hurtful to tell it, but you ought to know."
"Gran, not if it's painful. Not now. Later, perhaps," I 
tried to tell her.
"It had better be now, while I'm in the mood! Listen!"
She put her arms out as if to embrace the two of us.
"I was six, when my titties started to grow. How about 
you?"
"Gosh, I was nearly nine," said Tanya.
"Thirteen!" I laughed.
"How about the kids?"
"Suzanne was the earliest, she wasn't even six when hers 
started coming," I said, and Grandma Trudy shook her head 
in disbelief.
"Like I say, I was six. And they just ballooned, you 
know? Eight, nine years old, and they were a C cup. Then 
when I started the fourth grade, you know what that is?" 
We both nodded, not wanting to interrupt her, and she 
continued. "The day I started in the fourth grade, I was 
a forty-four! That was August, September. By Christmas, I 
was up to forty-seven inches."
She laughed. "And I was still growing. At least, by then, 
I was ten years old! And they just got bigger and bigger. 
But you know, I remembered nothing of this. My brother, 
Tim, told me everything, and gradually it all came back. 
Everything. How when I got to my eleventh birthday, our 
mother measured me, and I was fifty-six inches round the 
bust!"
"I can laugh at it now, but I was so huge, I could hardly 
walk, never mind run around. I had to have my bras hand-
made. It meant a bus-ride to see the bra-lady. Every time 
I got too big for my bra, and that was pretty often, I 
can tell you. But then I went to the doctor, and he sent 
me away to another doctor, in Chicago, and they looked at 
me, and they said there's nothing wrong. 'Perfectly 
normal, Mrs Morris', they told Mom! Oh, yeah?"
"That's what they said to me, too," said Tanya, "when *I* 
was eleven."
"They told me to go home and wait till I was nineteen, 
then they could make them smaller. Well, no way could we 
wait that long. Mom told them I'd need a wheelbarrow for 
them long before that! Anyways, I had to stop going to 
school because of the rude comments from the other kids.  
And the teachers, too, they were just as bad. Well, we 
lived on a farm, and once I got away from that school, I 
worked on the farm, and I did my schooling at home. Of 
course, these things kept right on growing. I don't know 
how big they ended up; we only had a five-foot tape at 
home! I know that I had to be measured for a new blouse, 
it was before I was twelve, during the summer, and I was 
sixty-three inches then! But they didn't stop growing."
Tanya's mouth was open as she gazed at Grandma Trudy. I 
realised, at last, she had found another woman who had 
been as big as her when she was younger. "Go on," she 
whispered, realising that Gran had stopped.
"It gets difficult now, honey. Be patient with me. I went 
back to school. Eighteen months I'd been away, and my 
boobs was twice as big as when I'd left. But then, I used 
to finish my homework and my chores, and I used to get 
away from the farm. There was this little place that only 
I knew about, and I used to go and sit there all on my 
own. Played with myself, I can tell you, now ..."
I looked at Tanya, and she looked at me, embarrassed for 
Grandma Trudy.
.".. then there was this man. This Luke O'Hara. I can 
still remember his name. He wasn't away at the war, like 
the real men. I dunno how he got away with it. But he ... 
he took me, down there in my secret little hiding place. 
And he raped me ..."
Her voice tailed off. For a long time we all sat in 
silence. Grandma Trudy fumbled around, looking for her 
handkerchief. Tanya pulled hers out, pressed it into her 
hand.
"Thank you, honey. That was it, really. I stopped eating, 
Tim says.  And in next to no time, I was skinny as a 
rake. You'd never believe it. We had to leave the farm, 
and we moved away. Quite suddenly. I found out why, 
later. Much later."
Grandma Trudy sighed and shivered. "It's turned quite 
chilly," she said, with an effort. "Could we continue 
tomorrow, would you mind?  Hey, I got past the worst 
part. The rest of it is easy-peasy. Let's round up this 
family of yours!"


Still grounded, and still under house arrest in his room, 
Davie heard the family being rounded up and taken to 
their rooms on the floor below. He wondered who the woman 
had been, the topless woman by the pool. For that matter, 
who had been the little girl. She must have been fifteen 
or more, with titties like hers. If they were here for a 
while, maybe he'd get to know her a bit better. Just as 
he had come to know Clarrie a lot better this afternoon.
Sweat broke out on his forehead at the memory. He licked 
his lips and could still taste Clarrie on them. He gently 
grasped his cock and it hardened in his hand. Within 
seconds, he was jerking and thrusting, his bed rocking 
violently, the headboard banging against the wall.
He stopped at last, looking stupidly at the little pool 
of milky-white juice on the bedspread. As he searched for 
a tissue, the thought came to him that if Clarrie had 
been here, she would have lapped it up for him.


Clarrie wasn't there, but she knew exactly what Davie was 
doing. She was helping the girls to get their bags 
unpacked in their rooms.  Suzanne and Pansy were sharing 
the room directly beneath Davie's, with Victoria next 
door on her own.
"What's that noise?" asked Suzanne, looking fearfully up 
at the ceiling as Davie's bed went into orbit above their 
heads.
"Is it a ghost?" whimpered Pansy.
"That's just the plumbing," said Clarrie, "it's an old 
house. It's not haunted, don't worry." Clarrie watched 
Suzanne closely. The kid's tits were enormous, she 
thought. If Davie gets a look at her, I'll be out.  O-U-
T! "I'll leave you now, to get ready for bed. If you need 
anything, the bathroom's that way, down the landing."
"Where do *you* sleep, Clarrie?" Pansy asked.
"Up there." Clarrie jerked her thumb. "Above Victoria's 
room. So no noise, understand. I have to be up early in 
the morning, to collect the eggs."
"Can we help you collect the eggs, Clarrie?" said 
Suzanne.
"You think you can get up at half past five?" the 
teenager asked.
"Okay. Not tomorrow, though. We've got weeks and weeks 
..."
.".. and weeks and weeks ..." said Pansy.
.".. and weeks!" finished Suzanne. "Night-night, 
Clarrie!"
"Night, sweetheart. Night, Pansy." The girls turned their 
faces up to kiss Clarrie, then snuggled down under their 
soft duvets.
"I like Clarrie," said Pansy, after the door had closed.
"So do I, said Suzanne. She tastes nice!"


By then, Clarrie was already pushing open Davie's door 
and creeping into his room. The boy started in alarm, 
screwing up a tissue and stuffing it into the waste bin. 
"You scared me, creeping in like that!" he accused.
"Not as much as if I'd crept in ten minutes ago, you 
horny little bugger. You were shaking the whole house 
with your wanking!"
Davie went scarlet, and lowered his head, not daring to 
look Clarrie in the face. He felt her soft hand on his 
back again, and she took his shoulder and slowly turned 
his face up to hers. "C'mere, sexy, I've been thinking of 
you ever since this afternoon!" And she planted her soft 
lips on his mouth. The kiss went on for several minutes, 
by which time Davie was rock hard and panting for 
Clarrie.
Clarrie was almost foaming with her desire to be fucked, 
properly, this time. This was going to be lesson number 
two for young Davie. She whispered to him.
"Go to the bathroom, do whatever you do at bedtime, then 
come back here and wait for me. I've got a few things to 
do, but I'll be here at nine-thirty on the dot. Don't 
start without me, okay?" and she gave a gentle squeeze of 
his mighty throbbing cock that nearly sent him over the 
edge.
He could still taste Clarrie's tongue. Surely it didn't 
still taste of cum after all these hours.




Chapter 6:- Things That Go Bonk In The Night
"Where is she," Davie muttered. The clock read nine-
thirty-five. In the darkened room, the red numerals 
blinked at him. She wasn't coming back, she'd been 
winding him up. He ought to have known. She wasn't 
interested in a kid of fourteen, not a great big grown-up 
woman like Clarrie. His erection died of disappointment, 
and was replaced by a lump in his throat. Finally, he 
turned over and lay on his side in the dusk.
"Move over, shithead, you can't have the whole bed to 
yourself!"
He must have dropped off to sleep. She was here. Clarrie! 
Her big cold body squeezed against his in the dark, her 
chilly thigh forcing itself into the warmth of his bed.
"Lie still, darling, don't move. I'll soon warm up. I 
nearly got spotted on the way here. Your Mum!"
Davie sat up like a Jack-in-the-box, disturbing the bed 
covers. "She never saw you ...?"
"Don't be daft, boy! I know how to hide myself around 
this house of a night-time. Right, lie down again, I want 
a cuddle first, before we do anything else!"
How was it, Davie thought, that even the most ordinary 
things that Clarrie said sounded so sexy!
She crept closer, pressing herself against him, rolling 
him away from her so she was pressing against his back. 
Their bodies fitted together like spoons. She was wearing 
a nightie, but it wasn't a very long one, he could feel 
the coarse, springy mat of her hair pressing against his 
naked bottom. Her plump arms twined around him, one 
above, one snaking beneath his body until her little 
fingers clutched at his bare chest and squashed him 
against her enormous titties. Now he could feel them, 
they seemed to cover his entire back. He tried to turn 
over, but she was far too strong for him.
"Lie still," she ordered. Her upper hand, the one not 
trapped beneath his body, began to feel its way down his 
chest, his stomach, to the fuzz at the root of his cock. 
Then it made its way back up again. He felt her 
fingernails as she gripped his little boy-tits, and 
squeezed.  Her tongue washed the back of his neck, then 
sought his ear. It went inside, like an exploring worm. 
Cold, wet and noisy.
Meanwhile, her hand had strayed downwards again. Then her 
other hand was on the move, despite his weight. It cupped 
his buttock, briefly, then wandered on, between his butt 
cheeks, and down to cup his balls from behind. She nipped 
his earlobe, tongued his ear again. He was nearly 
screaming when, with surprising strength, she gripped his 
shoulder and flipped him on to his back, and in the same 
movement, straddled him.
For the second time that day, her hair dangled across his 
face and chest. This time, though, Clarrie was naked, and 
her immense breasts dangled down, too, the nipples 
rubbing maddeningly in patterns on his soft skin. He 
reached out for them, and this time she made no effort to 
stop him, but sighed deeply as his hand found her left 
breast.
It was far too big to capture in one hand. Even with 
both, he could hardly control the thing, and it wobbled 
around like a family sized jelly released from a mould. 
She leaned slightly forward and directed the massive 
breast toward his mouth.
"Oh, Clarrie! Clarrie!" he sighed, and his lips found the 
enormous nipple.
"Ooooh, Dav-eee! You cheeky baby! Is baby thirsty, then?" 
and she gave him the other nipple as well. Talk about tit 
heaven. Davie suddenly had more breast pressed against 
his face than could have been provided by any four of the 
girls in his class at school.
Slowly, she lowered her bottom on to his stomach. He 
could feel her concentrating hard as she wiggled her fat 
rump around on him, he felt her practised little hand 
reach round and guide his erect boyhood for a second or 
so, then she squatted firmly down on him. He was ready to 
scream in pain as the girl squashed his willie, but it 
never happened.  By a miracle, it had gone inside her. 
And it was warm and wet. Things were happening in there, 
too. All sorts of muscles were gripping him.  It felt 
weird, and marvellous. Clarrie laughed her musical little 
ripple, and began a slow up and down movement on him. At 
each stroke, she seemed to go higher, so that he was 
afraid he would slip out of her altogether and she would 
break it as she sat down again, but somehow, she seemed 
to know just how far to go each time. Faster, now, and he 
began to buck against her, raising his hips to meet 
Clarrie on her way down, then faster still, until - 
nearly there - she stopped and his hips were off the bed, 
reaching up to her for what seemed like minutes until he 
CAME, and she sobbed in joy and delight with him and 
lowered herself tenderly on to his stomach as he 
endlessly pumped the last of his sperm into her lovely 
hole.
"Fucking Hell, Davie, where in fuck's name did you learn 
to screw like that?" she breathed into his ear.
"Oh, Carrie, darling!" and they both dissolved into 
giggles, laughing in each other's mouths as they lay 
together, then kissing endlessly for hours and hours, 
until he caught sight of the clock. Twenty past ten, it 
said.
"Is that all the time is?" he asked, "or has that clock 
stopped?"
"What's the fuckin' time matter?" she moaned, looking 
over her shoulder. "No, that's right, what's up?"
"Nothing, I thought we'd been doing it for hours."
"Oh, no, lover. We've got another SEVEN hours before I 
have to get up!  You just lie still for a bit and get 
your strength back. This next one's on Auntie Clarrie. 
Darkness descended as Clarrie's dripping hairy snatch 
covered his face. This time, he felt no trace of panic, 
only warmth and security. And the most wonderful scent in 
the world.  Gallons of it. Hot and cold running Clarrie.


They did it in an amazing number of different ways, with 
the one proviso that Clarrie was always on top. At five 
thirty, as daylight crept in through the drawn curtains, 
Clarrie kissed him and slipped away to the chicken runs.
Davie lay in a puddle of their combined juices, utterly 
exhausted. All through the long summer night, the buxom 
teenager had given him a sex lesson more comprehensive 
and wide-reaching than most males get in their first five 
sexually active years. And she had skipped out of the 
bedroom as frisky as a puppy. He had heard her whistling 
as she trotted across the yard. Twenty minutes later, she 
came back for a quickie, tearing off her clothes, her 
hair damp with the morning dew.  She had to arouse him 
again so that she could impale her frothing cooze on his 
battle-weary stalk.
"Come on, lover. Fourteen years old, and having trouble 
keeping it up already. If you weren't such a stud, I'd be 
turning you in for a newer model."
So it was that when Maisie came into her son's room at 
seven o'clock, she found the boy out stone cold. The 
window was wide open, Clarrie had done that before she 
had left, but the atmosphere in the little room was still 
quite noticeably sexy. "You can come out today," Maisie 
told her son, "but you've got to behave. Those little 
girls are young and innocent, and they don't want to be 
dealing with young tearaways like you, right?"
She gave another sniff as she left the room. If her Davie 
had been five years older, she thought, she'd have 
suspected that the slut Clarrie had been in his bed.
But young Clarrie had been up for hours, bright as a new 
pin, washed and showered, and totally ready for whatever 
the day might bring. And, with any luck at all, the next 
night.


Breakfast was served on the patio, where the morning 
sunshine had already burned off the last traces of mist. 
It was going to be another perfect day. Amy had decided 
to have a few days off work, and had phoned to invite our 
Mum to her flat for a break away from the kids.  "Go for 
it, Mum," I'd told her, "We'll be all right here keeping 
Gran company. We'll see you at the weekend."
I poured orange juice into the girls' glasses and they 
glugged away happily.
"There was a ghost last night," said Pansy, suddenly 
feeling brave enough to mention the fact.
Suzanne spluttered into her drink. "Silly! It's not a 
ghost. Mummy.
It's not a ghost, Clarrie told us. She said it's the 
plumbing."
Clarrie had appeared at that very moment, with a big 
silver dish of bacon and eggs. She nearly dropped the 
lot.
"I never heard anything, did you, Tanya?" I looked at my 
sister.
"Nothing, but I slept like a log. What sort of noise was 
it, Suze?"
"Like a banging. It started slow, and got faster and 
faster."
"Then it would stop. And it would listen. And then it 
would start up again after a little while. It kept 
waiting until we were nearly asleep then it would start 
again!"
Clarrie put the dish down on the table with a bang. I 
couldn't see her face, as her back was towards me, but 
her hand seemed to be shaking as she served bacon and 
eggs to the three girls.
"Where did the noise come from, girls?" I asked.
"Straight up above our heads, like on the roof," said 
Pansy, excited at the reaction she was getting.
Grandma Trudy had just come out on to the patio and had 
heard the last few words. "What's the matter, Pansy," she 
asked, "you been hearing noises in the night?"
"Ghosts on the roof!" insisted Pansy, proudly.
"Well, not on the roof, honey, there are another bunch of 
rooms above yours. Did you hear it, Victoria?"
"Not a thing," said Victoria scornfully. "But if there 
were any ghosts around, those two would hear them."
"Well, it's Davie's room above yours, kids. Why don't we 
ask him if he heard anything?"
Clarrie whisked away the dish, still half full. With 
trembling hands she started back in the direction of the 
kitchen. "Gettin' cold, I'll fetch some more ...!" she 
cried as she fled.
"Who's Davie," I asked Grandma Trudy.
"Maisie's boy. He's fourteen. You won't have seen him 
yet, he's been confined to his room for letting down the 
tyres on the policeman's bike."
Fourteen, I thought. Probably having a wank. But not all 
night, surely. The girls always did exaggerate 
everything. If I've told them once, I've told them a 
million times.
"Where's that Clarrie got to?" Grandma Trudy sounded 
exasperated. "You haven't had your eggs and bacon yet 
..."
"She rushed off in a bit of a hurry," I said. "She's a 
country girl, is she scared of ghosts?"
"She's scared of something," Grandma Trudy said, rather 
ominously. "I think Maisie ought to have a word or two 
with her." She thought for a moment. "Or maybe *I* ought 
to!"
That was something else about these country girls, I 
thought. If Clarrie was going to wear such a short skirt, 
I would have expected her to have been wearing panties.


Davie was going down the back stairs when he met Clarrie 
going the other way. "Oh, hello!" he said awkwardly.
The girl gave him a scared little glance. "Don't say 
anything about last night. Not to nobody, okay?"
Davie reddened. "*I* wasn't going to tell anyone."
"No, you'd better not neither. I reckon they heard us. 
The kids are talking about being kept awake by ghosts."
"Ghosts?" Davie went pale. "Is this place haunted, then?"
"Course not, prat-face! That was us they could hear, 
banging away.
Christ, if your Mum hears, I'll be right in the shit 
...!"
"YOU'LL be in the shit?"
"We both will. But she can't sack you, you're her flesh 
and blood. I could be out of a job, and it's all your 
fault!" And Clarrie flounced away up the stairs.
"My fau ...?" Davie watched her disappear, then turned 
and trudged down to the kitchen. How can it be my fault, 
he thought, *she* was fucking *me*!
And she's forgotten to put her knickers on again.




Chapter 7:- Davie Gets Lucky Again
Davie wandered into the kitchen, where his mother kissed 
him and served up his breakfast. "Careful, lovey, that 
plate's red hot," she warned him. "You woke up then," she 
said. "Spark out, you was, at seven when I come in your 
room. What was you up to last night, then?"
"Nothing," snapped Davie, too quickly. "I was asleep. Out 
cold, like you said. I must have been tired."
"Well, get that lot down you. I got a couple of jobs for 
you to do, then you're going to meet the lady's daughter 
and her family. You can show the kids around later this 
afternoon. That'll be nice, won't it?"
He looked sharply at his mother to see if she was trying 
to be sarcastic. Her face was innocent and beaming. He 
applied himself to his breakfast. His balls had been 
crushed; his willie felt raw. If this was what love was 
all about, he wondered why people were always singing 
songs about it.
"Now, where's that bloody girl? CLARRIE? Never there when 
you want her, that idle bitch. Davie, love, go and find 
her, will you? I'll put that back on the stove 'til you 
get back ..."
Davie crept off upstairs, and knocked softly on Clarrie's 
door.
"Who's that?"
"S'me. Davie!"
"You can't come in here, not after last night. I'll get 
shot."
"It's all right. Mum sent me. She needs you to help in 
the kitchen.
Honest."
The door creaked open an inch or two. "Come in, quick."
He slipped inside, looking around. There were pop-star 
posters on all the walls. The bed had pink sheets and 
lacy pillowcases. A huge blue bra lay on the bed. Clarrie 
was naked, and looked somehow smaller. She threw her arms 
around his neck and squashed herself against him. Her 
lips were hot and urgent on his face, and her tongue met 
his.
He felt himself coming to attention; although the inside 
of his shorts felt like they were made of sandpaper! 
"Ouch!" he croaked as Clarrie thrust her hips forward.
"S'matter?" she asked, pausing briefly to tear her lips 
away from his.  He took the opportunity to make a massive 
rearrangement of his clothing in the groin area. "Ooooh, 
lover! Don't do that, you'll drive me wild! And you know 
what that'll mean, don't you?" Already, the girl's hand 
was inside his pants, and he hadn't felt a thing as she 
had unzipped him. Shit, she'd got his willie out, and all 
in about five seconds. Bloody hell, it was *inside* her!
And it was. Clarrie backed him against the door and rode 
his aching tool until he felt a rushing, building 
sensation in his ears and his balls. Then he was pumping 
into her again, and she was whimpering and moaning softly 
in his ear, rubbing her massive titties against his 
chest, the nipples like the last joint of his thumbs. 
Christ!
She unplugged herself, and obligingly put him away, 
zipping him up and giving his crotch a friendly little 
pat, as if it were a good dog.  "There!" she said. "Now, 
get out of here while I get dressed. We can't have you 
looking at me and getting all excited, can we?"
And suddenly, he was outside her door. He went downstairs 
again.
"You took your time, didn't you?" said Maisie, stirring 
something in a bowl. "Well, is she coming?"
"What? Oh, yes. She was in the toilet. She's washing her 
hands." He took his breakfast plate off the stove. The 
fried egg was curling up at the edges. "I'm not all that 
hungry," he told her, and put it down again. He could 
feel a chilly dampness in his underwear as juice 
continued to seep out."
"Come here and give us a kiss, then get out and tidy the 
woodshed.  We've got a load of logs coming in, and you'll 
have to make room for them." He kissed his mother on the 
cheek and slipped out of the back door, tugging his pants 
to move the wet bit away from his willie.  Yuck, he 
thought.
Maisie sniffed the air after he had gone, wondering if 
she was really smelling what she thought she was. Then 
Clarrie came into the kitchen.
"You feelin' better, girl?"
"What? What you mean?" Clarrie was bright red.
"Come here, Clarrie!" she said quietly. The girl crept 
closer, knowing what was coming. Maisie raised the maid's 
skirt.
Fortunately, Clarrie had put her panties on. 
Unfortunately, a generous quantity of Davie's juices were 
still inside her at the time.
"Go and change your knickers, young lady! And have a 
shower. You're going up before the lady!"


Davie walked in front, the girls capered along behind, 
chattering amongst themselves. Every time they tried to 
catch up with him, he walked faster. He had to, if they 
got ahead of him they'd see he had a monster hard-on. It 
was his Mum's fault, sending him out here with three 
incredibly beautiful girls like this! He'd become erect 
straight away, as soon as he had seen Pansy. He got even 
harder when he was introduced to Victoria. And when he 
saw Suzanne, he was on the verge of creaming his pants.
It was strange, he thought. He lived in a house liberally 
blessed with large-breasted women. Even if they were all 
rather ancient, they were fun to look at. Even the lady, 
she made him feel excited sometimes, and she must be a 
hundred years old. Then there was her Amy, he enjoyed 
watching her whenever she came over to visit, she 
*really* wobbled. And there was Clarrie, of course. His 
erection became even harder, thinking of Clarrie.
But now, all these others had come along. It was if he 
was being punished for liking big titties, by having 
thousands of them everywhere he looked. Even little Pansy 
had boobs as big as any of the girls in his class at 
school, while her sister was miles bigger. And their Mum, 
too!
And as if that wasn't enough, there was that Suzanne. He 
began to walk stiff-legged as things were now getting 
well out of hand inside his pants. And then there was 
Suzanne's Mum, surely she must have the biggest boobs in 
the whole world. Would Suzanne one day be as big as her? 
Oh, shit, yes please!
It was a hard life, being a teenage tit-freak.
"Slow down, Davie," called Victoria, "Suzanne and Daniel 
can't keep up."
He turned round. Suzanne and her little cousin were 
thirty yards behind, the little girl trying to run and 
hold her big boobs with one hand, while Daniel's feet 
wouldn't carry him fast enough. He was panting and 
sobbing. Davie stopped. There was a grassy bank down 
here, leading to a stream. More of a little river, 
really. He turned off and went down to the edge of the 
water. Pansy and Victoria sat down next to him in relief, 
while the laggards caught up and joined them.
Suzanne was puffing and blowing, her great big thingies 
going up and down under her T-shirt. Davie sat forward to 
hide his erection which was already making a big wet 
patch on the front of his jeans. Not quickly enough, he 
realised, Victoria had already noticed. If she had been a 
dog, her ears would have pricked up.
This, she realised, was what the other girls all talked 
about the whole time at school. A hard, was it? Hard-up? 
She tried to see it but Davie was sitting all hunched up. 
She moved a little and found she could see a bit better. 
She stared at it, and Davie practically screwed himself 
up into a ball.
I can't sit like this, he thought. It's not getting any 
smaller, and she's not going to go away. Disguising his 
movements as a coughing fit, he heaved and struggled to 
move the bloody thing so it was pointing straight 
upwards, out of the way. The position brought some 
relief, but Victoria's eyes were suddenly almost popping 
out of her head.
"What ... what's THAT?" she gasped.
"What's what?" Davie said in a voice of doom, and chanced 
a quick look down. Oh dear, oh dear, oh shit! No wonder 
it felt cold all of a sudden. His cock had poked out of 
the top of his jeans. Victoria moved right next to him 
and reached out her little hand.
"Gosh, that's nice," she gurgled. May I touch it?"
"NO!" he shouted, too late. Victoria's fingers were 
playing gently across the tip of it, causing the strange 
thing to leap out of the way.
"Aaagh, it's alive!" she squealed. "And it's wet." She 
sniffed her fingers cautiously, then licked them. A 
little smile came over her face as she realised it tasted 
quite nice. She went back for second helpings.
"No, you mustn't!" Davie cried again, but again too late. 
The others had gathered round.
"That's his willie," Pansy informed them, "Same as 
Daniel's." She studied it for a few seconds. "Well, it's 
not quite the same."
Suzanne didn't have a little brother to look at, and 
she'd never seen one of these things before, so she 
leaned across to get a look at close range. Her breast 
sploshed against Davie's knee, but she didn't seem to 
notice. He certainly did. So did his willie, which began 
to leap around, forcing itself further and further into 
the open air.  Suzanne bent closer and put her tongue 
out. Before Davie could stop her, she had licked the very 
end of it.
"It tastes just like Clarrie!" she announced joyously, 
and Davie gave a cry and buried his head in both hands. 
Again he felt the little girl's tongue touch him, then he 
was engulfed in a warm wetness, hearing the voices of the 
girls echoing in his head.
"Oh, Suze, that's GROSS!"
"Yucky! She's EATING it!"
"Mmnnng mmnph!"
He tried to warn her, but the words wouldn't come. What 
did come was his most violent ejaculation since the one 
that took place at around ten-fifteen the previous night.
Suzanne, taken completely by surprise, swallowed a 
mouthful before she could get the thing free. The rest of 
it went in half a dozen spurts all over the front of her 
bulging T-shirt.
"What's all that stuff?" she screamed.
"I tried to tell you!" Davie shouted, but you wouldn't 
stop sucking me.
"You should have stopped. You've wee-weed on my shirt!" 
Suzanne tried to pull the wet garment away from her skin, 
but it clung to her.
"You'd better take that off," Victoria said. "We can 
rinse it in the stream. It will soon dry in the sun."
Davie's second dream came true. Or had the first one been 
a nightmare?  Suzanne tugged the T-shirt off over her 
head, and sat there in her bra. From where he sat, it 
looked almost as big as Clarrie's. Yet Suzanne couldn't 
have been any more than thirteen. After all, she talked 
like a baby sometimes.
The girl kneeled by the water and dunked the shirt in it, 
sluicing it around to remove the clinging gooey slime. It 
was the strangest wee-wee she'd ever seen. It seemed to 
float away in strings. At last, as the others watched 
critically, she held it up at arms length. "How does that 
loooooo ..."
Girls built like Suzanne are not designed to kneel on 
river banks holding wet T-shirts at arms-length in front 
of them.
The splash was resounding. Part of the reason for that 
was that Davie had reached out to save her, but had 
overbalanced himself. He followed Suzanne into the water. 
There was a brief struggle as they clutched at each 
other. Pansy and Victoria screamed. Daniel burst into 
tears.  Suzanne and Davie clambered to their feet - the 
water only came up to their thighs - and hauled 
themselves on to the bank.
"It's c-c-c-c-cold!" shivered Suzanne. Davie said 
nothing, but stood dripping like a drowned rat.
Victoria again acted first. "Take it off," she told 
Suzanne, pulling at her shorts, "everything, pants and 
bra. All off! You too," she said to Davie, "strip it all 
off ..."
It was all they *could* do. They scrambled out of their 
soaking clothes, handing them one item at a time to 
Victoria to wring out.  Pansy draped them on a bush in 
the hot sun. The last two items were Suzanne's bra and 
Davie's underpants. The two shivering youngsters looked 
at each other with considerable interest.
"Go and run around," Victoria told them, shooing them 
before her like big pink geese. "Go ON!"
And they did. They made a curiously arousing sight, 
Suzanne's breasts bouncing and flying around in all 
directions, while Davie's prong refused to lie down and 
die. If anything, it seemed to become even more erect as 
he followed Suzanne's tight little buttocks around on the 
warm grass. At last, panting, he stopped and sprawled in 
an untidy heap. Suzanne flopped down beside him, 
wriggling like a big pink puppy and giggling in 
excitement.
"Gosh, Davie! I hope nobody's watching us!"
"No, I don't think so," he puffed. Last night had taken 
it out of him.
"That's good, then!" she whispered, and threw her arms 
around his neck. "Gimme a cuddle!"
Enormous spongy boobs squashed against his bare chest. 
Much firmer than Clarrie's. 
Oh, bloody hell, here we go again.


They all walked home slowly. Davie was deep in thought. 
After his discovery of sex last night, he realised that 
he would have to look at girls in a different way from 
now on. He looked at the three who walked along with him 
now. Suzanne was walking on his left, her hip brushing 
softly against his leg. He could feel the warmth of her 
every time it happened. After a while, she began pressing 
herself harder and harder against his thigh, forcing him 
over to the right, where he bumped against Victoria. 
Suzanne's skimpy shorts were nicely filled by her girlish 
bottom, but not nearly as much as her T-shirt was filled 
by her womanish titties.
And Victoria, on the other side, not touching him, except 
when Suzanne made him collide with her scorching hot leg. 
Her eyes never left his face. Not as old as Suzanne, 
obviously, her titties weren't as big, but she behaved 
much older. While Suzanne and he had been charging 
around, trying to get themselves dried off, Victoria had 
sat back watching them, resting on her elbows and 
laughing, and her nipples had been sticking out through 
her top like spikes.
Meanwhile, Pansy and Daniel had been rolling in the 
grass, completely absorbed in their own game. Once the 
excitement of Davie and Suzanne falling in the river was 
over, the two little ones lost interest in them 
altogether and started playing. Funny thing, even Pansy 
had nice chubby boobs, but she was just a kid. The two of 
them were prancing on ahead like dogs, occasionally 
glancing back to see that the others were still 
following.
Davie studied his two female admirers. What would they be 
like to do it with? He tried to imagine it, as it had 
been with Clarrie, but the images wouldn't form in his 
head. Clarrie was a woman, but these two, despite their 
mature appearance, were still only girls. Never mind, he 
could still try, no harm in that. He knew he was good at 
it, Clarrie had told him last night. Dozens of times. 
What was the word? Stud, that was it. Davie the Stud. I 
wonder which one I will get to fuck first.




Chapter 8- The Truth Will Out
"Had a nice walk, dear?" Tanya held her arms out to 
Suzanne as the little group approached.
Daniel came up to me, hopping up and down in excitement. 
"Mummy, Mummy, 'Zanne fell in the river!"
"And Davie, they *both* fell in," reported Pansy.
"What?" Tanya felt her little girl's shorts. They were 
still damp.
"When did this happen?"
"Ages ago, Mum, we dried our clothes on a bush, it's all 
right," Suzanne reassured her. "Me and Davie."
"Wait a minute. You and Davie? You took your wet things 
off and dried them on a bush?"
"Of course, like I said. They're dry, now."
Tanya looked at me and shook her head. "Off with it. Now! 
Get up to your room and change into something dry." 
Clarrie had appeared on the terrace, hearing all the 
excited noises. She had also come out to see if Davie was 
around. Tanya spoke to her. "Clarrie would you go with 
Suzanne, please, and make sure she changes everything. 
She fell in the river with Davie!"
Clarrie had already held out her hand to Suzanne when 
Tanya finished her sentence. "With Davie?" Clarrie looked 
at the boy, who was edging away in the direction of the 
house. "C'mon, Suzanne," the teenager said, "And YOU, 
TOO, Davie!" she planted a hand on his shoulder and 
steered him away indoors.
"How did they dry their clothes, Victoria," I asked.
"I made them take everything off, and we hung their 
things on a bush.
They soon dried."
"What about Suzanne and Davie, how did *they* get dry, 
you couldn't hang them on a bush."
"Course not, stupid! They ran around for a bit, then they 
had a
cuddle. They soon got warmed up"
"I bet they did," Tanya growled.
Grandma Trudy came out. "What's all this, I saw Clarrie 
in the kitchen, and she said those two had fallen in the 
river. Is that true?"
"Yes," Tanya said, "they've gone off to change."
"But how did it happen?"
Pansy was thinking, trying to remember the sequence of 
events. She always likes to get things right before she 
explains anything. "I remember," she said at last. 
"Go on, then, darling, what happened?"
"Well, we walked down to the river and sat down. And 
Davie had his willie out ..."
"He did WHAT?" Tanya and Grandma Trudy screamed in 
chorus.
"He got his willie out," Pansy repeated, gratified by the 
reaction.  "And Suzanne was licking it! Yuck! I told her 
to take it out of her mouth, but she wouldn't listen to 
me. Then she did, she took it out, and some wet stuff 
came out and went on her T-shirt." The audience was 
silent and open-mouthed by now. "So she took her top off 
and washed it in the river. She still had her bra on, so 
it was all right ..."
"Oh, good, that's all right then," Tanya said, faintly.
.".. but then she fell in, and when Davie tried to grab 
her, he fell in, too. But it wasn't very deep." She 
sounded genuinely disappointed.  "They were standing up 
in the water, and it only came up to Davie's willie. Then 
they got out and we made them take their clothes off and 
I hung them on the bush. That's all."
That was all, as my daughter said. "Let's hear their side 
of it before we go ape-shit, Sis," I told her, but I was 
feeling sick inside.
"Okay," said Tanya dully. "I'll ask Suze after tea."
"I'll have a word with Davie," said Grandma Trudy. "He'll 
talk to me."


"Wait there, you!" Davie stopped outside Suzanne's 
bedroom door as if he had been turned to a pillar of 
salt. Clarrie followed the girl into her room and watched 
as she undressed. She peeled off her T-shirt and Clarrie 
took it from her hand as Suzanne peeled her shorts off, 
hopping precariously on one leg. Even inside her bra, 
everything was bouncing.
Clarrie waited for the girl to hand over her shorts. The 
damp T-shirt seemed to have some stains on the front. She 
sniffed at them suspiciously, but the whole thing smelled 
only of river water. Suzanne watched her.
"I washed it all off," she said, helpfully.
"Washed what all off?"
"The stuff that came out of Davie's thingie. That's why I 
fell in, I was licking his thingie 'cos it tasted nice - 
it tasted a bit like you - and it came out of my mouth 
when it was jerking about so much, and a load of stuff 
went all over my shirt. It will wash off, won't it. 'Cos 
I like this shirt!"
"Oh, it will come off, all right, now that I know what it 
is," said Clarrie, grimly. "Take the rest of your things 
off, and I'll wash them. Quick, I need to see Davie gets 
his things off as well.  Especially his jeans, they're 
still quite damp."
"There you are, Clarrie," Suzanne put her panties on top 
of the bra in Clarrie's hands. "Will my bra be dry by the 
morning? Only my other one's a bit too tight."
I bet it is, thought Clarrie, stunned by the size of the 
child's breasts, now inches away from her. Davie would 
have enjoyed those as well. "Hurry up and get dressed, 
sweetheart, then go and have your tea. I'll be down 
presently."
"Okay! said Suzanne, happily, rummaging through her top 
drawer.
"NOW then!" Clarrie took Davie's arm and frog-marched him 
along the landing to the back stairs. "Keep going!" she 
ordered as the boy stumbled. Along the passage and into 
his bedroom. The door slammed and she dumped him on his 
bed.
"Get undressed, now! What have you been up to with that 
kid?"
"Me, nothing! Nothing happened, Clarrie, honest."
"And your jeans, too. Oh, so you didn't fall in the 
river, then?"
"Well, yeah ... but ..."
"And those shorts! And so you didn't take all your 
clothes off to get them dry?"
"Well, yeah ..."
"And  your socks. And you didn't run around stark, 
bollock naked with that little sex-bomb?"
Sex-bomb? "Well, I s'pose so, but ..."
"And she didn't fall in the river in the first place 
because she was trying to wash the CUM-STAINS OFF HER T-
SHIRT?"
"Oh!" said Davie in a tiny voice.
"AFTER SHE WAS SUCKING YOU OFF?"
No reply.
"Oh, Davie! What am I going to do with you? One night of 
love-making from me, and you think it's okay to try and 
get the pants off an eight-year-old kid!"
"Eight? EIGHT years old? Suzanne?"
"She's eight and a half! That's all she is."
"But she's ..." He used his hands to describe Suzanne.
"Yes, she is, isn't she?" Clarrie pushed him on to his 
back. "She's really big, isn't she, Davie?"
Clarrie unfastened the buttons of her blouse.
"She's HUGE, isn't she, Davie?"
Clarrie dropped the blouse on the floor and reached 
around behind her back to unfasten her bra.
"But she's not as HUGE as me, is she, Davie?"
Not quite, he thought. She lowered herself on to him.
"And she can't do THIS, can she, Davie?"
Not yet, he thought, surrendering himself to his fate.


The knock on the door stopped them in their tracks. 
Clarrie froze in mid-thrust.
"You there, Davie?"
The lady! Clarrie put both her hands in her mouth.
"Davie? May I come in, honey?"
"Errrrm ...!"
The door opened. Trudy closed it behind her as soon as 
she took in the scene. Clarrie hadn't moved. Davie 
couldn't move, anyway.
Trudy, feeling faint, walked over to the window and stood 
looking out.
"Would you like to get up, Clarrie, please!" she said 
without turning round.
The wanton girl slowly detached herself, while Trudy 
stared out at the sunlit scene. A cloud drifted across 
the garden. Clarrie picked up her blouse and held it in 
front of herself. "Get dressed, honey!" said Trudy, not 
unkindly, which made it even worse for the young girl.  
Sobbing now, she pulled the blouse on, then bent to pick 
up her skirt.  She stepped into it, then picked up her 
abandoned bra. There appeared to be no panties.
Trudy turned at last. "Now go to your bedroom and wait 
for me there, please." Biting her lip, tears flooding 
down her cheeks, Clarrie left the room. Davie watched her 
go, then looked at Trudy. "I only came to talk about you 
and young Suzanne falling in the river," she said. "I 
hardly expected to find you ... to find this going on! 
How long have you and Clarrie been ...?"
"Last night, ma'am," Davie muttered.
"In your room? In here?" Trudy put two and two together. 
Ghosts, she thought, managing not to giggle. "What 
happened this afternoon? Down by the river?"
"Nothing, ma'am, nothing, honest! We got wet and took our 
clothes off, that's all. I didn't f..."
"I know that, Davie. I believe you. But Suzanne's only 
*eight* years old, what made you think of showing her 
your ... yourself." She pointed to the offending part, 
now mercifully no longer erect. She realised straight 
away that she hadn't made the right point. He shouldn't 
have been showing his cock to *any* girls, eight or 
twenty-eight.
Davie tried to tell her. "I'd got a hard-on, ma'am. It 
sort of slipped out of my pants, and the girls wanted to 
touch it. They hadn't seen one before. Honestly, ma'am!"
Sheesh. Crazy story. Crazy enough to be true.
"Now listen, Davie. I'm not going to forbid you to see 
Clarrie. You'd only find a way, somehow. Clarrie's a very 
grown-up and a VERY sexy girl, and she's awfully 
experienced for her age. It will surely end in tears for 
you, but there's no point in telling you that either. But 
if I catch you trying ANYTHING with little Suzanne, you 
are in trouble, that is TROUBLE, Davie, is that clear?"
That was clear. As soon as Trudy had gone, he rolled over 
on to his belly. His pillow smelled of Clarrie. The whole 
bed smelled of Clarrie. Girls were nothing but trouble, 
he decided. End in tears? It had only *started* last 
night, and here came the tears already.


"Let me make it crystal clear, Clarrie. I am not firing 
you. Sir Roger will have to do that, if he can. Perhaps I 
will have to tell him what I have seen, when he comes 
back?"
Clarrie went as white as a sheet.
"I thought so. I already told Davie, I'm not going to 
stop you two having sex. You'd only go somewhere else and 
do it. You, especially, Clarrie, because you can't go a 
day without it. I also told him it will end in tears. For 
him, that is. You'll throw him away without a second 
thought when Sir Roger comes back! Just remember, 
Clarrie, I know everything. Everything!"
Clarrie crumpled on her bed, and dissolved into 
shuddering tears.
Trudy watched her for a moment, about to leave.
I never could do the right thing and leave well alone, 
she thought, sitting down next to the girl on the bed and 
putting an arm round her.  Clarrie tensed, then relaxed, 
her head buried in Trudy's shoulder, her massive breasts, 
loose inside her creased blouse, mashing against Trudy's 
far larger ones. The older woman hugged the teenager 
tight, rocking her like a baby until the girl's sobs died 
away.
"You take the rest of the night off, honey. Go have a 
shower. I guess you need one." She chucked the girl under 
the chin and wiped a tear away with a finger. "And if you 
simply *can't* leave Davie alone, try to do it quietly, 
okay?"
Trudy gathered up the bundle of clothes she had collected 
from Davie's room, and went quietly downstairs.


"Where's Clarrie, Nana Trudy?" asked Suzanne.
"She said she's not feeling too good, she's going to 
bed," said Trudy.
"But she was going to tuck us in and kiss us goodnight," 
complained Pansy. "It's not fair!"
"If poor Clarrie's not well, you wouldn't want to make 
her get up, would you?" I asked her.
"Well, could Davie come and say goodnight then?" Suzanne 
asked, brightly. "Can he, Mummy?"
Tanya gulped. "We'll have to see about that, Suze. He 
might have other things he has to do."
"I'll ask Maisie. Can I ask Maisie for Davie to come into 
our bedroom tonight, Mummy?" Pansy was already getting 
up. Oh, God!
"*I'll* come and kiss you goodnight, kids," Grandma Trudy 
said, "but only if you're going to be good girls. I'll 
tell you a story, too.  I'll bet Davie wouldn't do that."
That clinched it.
But there were still problems being stored up for 
tomorrow.
At least, the ghosts were quiet that night. Perhaps they 
were still there, but at least, they kept quiet.





<end 2/4>

From:	acotto@gate.net (Anthony Cotto)
	Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject:	Grown-up Girls, Part 3 (big breasts, yng teen)
Date:	4 Dec 1995 17:00:17 -0500
	Message-ID: <49vr1h$m4g@navajo.gate.net>

THIS STORY WAS NOT WRITTEN BY ME!!!
I am posting it as a favor to the author, who wishes to 
remain anonymous. 
Any e-mail received by me will be forwarded to the 
author. 



GROWN-UP GIRLS
by Some Sort of Dog


WARNING: This story is for those readers over 18 years of 
age who have no objection to reading about young women's 
breasts getting bigger. It is a work of fiction, of 
fantasy, even. Everyone lives happily ever after. None of 
the events described in this story actually took place, 
to the undying regret of the author. No sexual acts are 
described as taking place between adults and minors. No 
young women explode. Nobody gets raped or killed. If you 
get off on that sort of thing, look elsewhere; I hope you 
find it.
None of the characters in this story is real. Their 
names, no matter how ordinary-sounding and everyday, are 
fictitious. Any resemblance to any real person, living or 
dead, is unintentional.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Some of the characters in this story have 
appeared previously in other stories. Tanya's 
Grandmother, Trudy, you may have heard of before 
elsewhere. (She was born and brought up in the United 
States.) Tanya, who appears in this story as a young 
mother of twenty-one, first became known to our readers 
as 'Big Little Sister' when she was only ten, and again 
in the next episode of the same saga, four years later. 
(She also made a special guest appearance in 'Fifth Form 
at St Cat's.) At that time, a number of readers were 
clamouring for more news of Tanya. We told them that the 
story had then reached the present day, so there wasn't 
yet any more to tell. Well, we lied.  Authors, living as 
they do in a dream-world, tell lies rather too often. 
Here's Tanya again, seven relatively uneventful years 
later, in another story narrated (mostly) by her older 
sister.




GROWN-UP GIRLS
by Some Sort of Dog




Part III
Chapter 9:- Relationships
The ghosts had been there all right, but they'd been as 
quiet as they could. Clarrie made love to Davie with a 
quiet intensity. By morning, the boy was feeling even 
more shattered than yesterday. He wondered if it was 
always like this. What would it be like with a *really* 
heavy girl on top of him, instead of just a very heavy 
one.
"You've squashed my balls, Clarrie," he groaned as she 
eased herself off him and stretched like a cat.
"Oh get away, you great baby! Gissa kiss, I'll see you 
after breakfast. No time to come back for a quickie this 
morning. There'll be too much to do. Have a wank, 
instead. Seeya!"
And she was gone. He lay there for a few seconds in the 
quiet. He thought he could hear voices. There it was 
again, girls, laughing. It was the kids, downstairs, in 
the room just below his. He thought of Suzanne, down by 
the stream yesterday, and to his horror, found himself 
becoming erect again. He was still wet with the juice 
from the inside of Clarrie, and now he was getting hard 
thinking about an eight-year-old! But *what* an eight-
year-old!
He took Clarrie's parting advice. As he came, he moaned 
to himself, 'Ooooh, Suzanne!' And to his dismay, he found 
it quite exciting.


Victoria hadn't been able to sleep at all. It was 
morning, and outside the sun was up, the chickens were 
making a terrible row and she was restless. For some 
reason, she kept thinking of Davie. Such a thing had 
never happened to her before. She remembered the 
afternoon by the little river, when she had touched his 
willie. Later, walking back home, they had looked at each 
other. She blushed at the memory and her nipples felt all 
tingly. She touched herself beneath the bed covers, and 
found wetness down there.
I wonder if he's awake yet, she thought. They wake up 
early in the country, she supposed. We could have a 
little chat. Nobody would know.  She slipped a leg over 
the side of her bed, and quietly stood up, trying not to 
let the floor creak. She caught a glimpse of herself in 
her bedroom mirror. Golly! Her nipples were sticking out 
miles!  Hunching her shoulders slightly to hide them, she 
opened the door, and made for the back stairs.
She was about to round the corner on to the top landing 
when a door opened and Clarrie came out, wearing a short 
nightie. So short, it didn't even cover her front bottom. 
Victoria blushed at the thought of seeing Clarrie's 
thingie. It was *so* hairy! She ducked out of sight as 
the teenager, whistling softly, went into another bedroom 
leaving the door open a few inches. Victoria froze where 
she was. It was all quiet. Clarrie's whistling had 
stopped, but there were some rustlings from inside the 
room. Victoria crept out of her hidey-hole and took a 
cautious step along the corridor. Then the door handle 
rattled, and Victoria nearly screamed in terror. She 
scuttled back into cover again, as the door opened fully, 
and Clarrie came out, in her blouse and skirt. She walked 
briskly past, and went down the stairs. Victoria thought 
she could smell a faint odour of kippers in the girl's 
wake.  She must have had breakfast in her bedroom, she 
thought.
Slowly, she stepped forward again, one foot, then 
another, like a stalking cat. All the way to Davie's 
door. Which one? She counted the doors again. This one 
here. But that was the room Clarrie had come out of in 
her nightie. Victoria gasped and blushed again, as rude 
thoughts passed through her head. She tried the handle, 
then pushed the door open. Davie was lying in bed, eyes 
closed, panting slightly as if he had been running.
He must be having a nightmare, she thought. Best not wake 
him up. She was about to turn round and leave, when a 
thought came to her, a thought so daring as to make her 
go crimson with shame at having even thought about 
thinking it. Raising the corner of the bed covers, she 
slipped one foot into the bed, then perched her little 
bottom on the side of it. The bed dipped alarmingly, and 
Davie gave a groan. She stopped, but just at that moment, 
the boy turned over on to his side, with his back to 
Victoria. There was suddenly plenty of room in the boy's 
bed.
She was in, not daring to move, feeling the warmth of his 
body next to hers, and the smell of kippers. Gosh, he 
must have had *his* breakfast in bed as well. Davie 
muttered something in his sleep.
"I thought you weren't coming back," he said in a weary 
voice.
Victoria was puzzled, but decided he must be talking in 
his sleep. She gave a little moan in case a reply was 
expected, and Davie sighed contentedly. He seemed to be 
waiting for her to make the next move, although she had 
no idea what gave her that notion. She touched his back 
softly, laid her hand flat against it. It felt strong and 
hard.  She kissed the warm skin. Then, remembering his 
willie and how nice that had felt, she snaked an arm over 
his hip to roughly where she thought his willie ought to 
be. To her satisfaction, she found it straight away. It 
was clammy and damp, all of it, as she ran her little 
fingers from the base to the tip and back.
Davie gave a soft groan and clutched at her hand, 
stopping her from letting go. Fine, she thought, and 
gripped it harder. Davie screamed and sat up. He saw her 
and yelped again, crawling away until he was hard against 
the wall.
"Hello, Davie, I came to have a little chat."
"What about?" he sounded strangely agitated; guilty, 
even.
"Oh, just things, you know?" To be honest, she hadn't 
thought about an agenda for the meeting. "Shall we talk 
about sex? Shall we do *more* than talk?" she suggested.
"Aaaargh!" Davie squawked. "No, I mustn't! You're too 
young!"
"Suze wasn't too young for a cuddle yesterday!"
"That's different."
"It *is* different. I'm two and a half years older than 
her. I'm ten," she added proudly and put her arms around 
him, pressing her plump breasts against his chest. He 
stopped resisting.
"Have you done it very many times?" she asked him.
"Quite a lot," he said, thinking about the last two 
nights.
"Good! You can do *me*, then."
"Whaddya mean?" He flattened himself against the wall 
again.
"You can do me! I don't mind. I want you to. I'm ever so 
good at it.
I'm brilliant," she added in a flash of inspiration.
"Are you?" he said in a flabbergasted tone.
"Oooh, yes. Everybody says so."
"What if I don't want to?" he tried, without much hope.
She spluttered with laughter. "Course you want to. Boys 
always want to."
"All right then." Clarrie wasn't coming back, after all. 
What harm could it do. It wasn't as if she was an eight-
year-old, anyway.  Victoria was ten. Most important of 
all, after the last two nights, she was only a little 
over half the weight of Clarrie! "Go on then!" he said.
Victoria felt a funny feeling in her front bottom again. 
She lay back and closed her eyes. "Go on, then," she said 
huskily. This was the great moment. It was going to 
happen to her!
"I'm waiting," said Davie.
"So am I, darling!"
They lay side by side and waited for a few minutes, then 
both sat up.
"It isn't working," said Davie.
"Just get on top of me," prompted Victoria, and spread 
her legs as wide as they would go. Nothing happened. 
Davie looked curiously down at Victoria's sparsely-furred 
little cunny. It looked wet. She was all ready for him, 
so why wouldn't she just get on and do it!
"But you're supposed to get on top of *me*," he said.
Victoria thought back to discussions at school. Girls lay 
on their backs and boys climbed on top and put their 
willies in your thing. But perhaps there was another way 
she hadn't heard about. People were always finding new 
ways of doing things. "We can do it the other way, 
though, if you like," she said in a worldly manner.
"The other way?" Davie said, in panic. "Oh, you mean the 
*other* way!
Okay. Go on, then."
"Ah!"
Inspiration came at last to Davie. Sweating, he said, 
"Oh, I didn't think you'd have wanted to do it *that* 
way, since you've done it so many times. I'm ready, 
though. Come on. Sit on my face!"
Victoria propped herself on a slender elbow and stared at 
him. "What for?" she asked, puzzled.
"To do it. You have to suck my cock and sit on my face!"
"Ugh! You're gross, Davie! Suck your own cock and sit on 
your own face, you pervert, if that's your idea of a 
relationship!" and she flounced out of the bed. Arms 
akimbo, she paused at the door for a parting shot. "And 
I'm telling Nana Trudy about you and Clarrie ..."
"She already knows, nyeeerrr ...!"
.".. you've been eating kippers in your room!" Victoria 
marched out of the bedroom, her little nose in the air. 
She was back in her own bed in thirty seconds. "Boys! 
Yuck! I'm going to stay a virgin, like Mummy."
Davie lay there blinking. "What was she on about? 
Kippers? Girls! What is the fucking matter with them?"
And he tried for another wank, but fell asleep half way 
through.


"We've got to have a word with the girls, Sis," said 
Tanya. We carried our breakfast things into the kitchen 
and handed them to Clarrie who was trilling a happy song 
as she bent over the sink. I couldn't quite see if she 
was wearing panties this morning. Probably not.
"Let's get them now. No time like the present. Before 
they go off with Davie again."
So we did. Suzanne described exactly what had happened 
down by the river: it tallied with Pansy's version 
perfectly. Victoria said very little. I looked at her, 
she seemed a bit pale.
"You all right, darling, you look a bit peaky?"
"'Course I'm all right," she snapped. "It's you lot, 
going on about sex all the time. We haven't done 
anything."
And no, apart from giving blow-jobs on the river bank, 
they hadn't, really.
Tanya did her best to explain why it wasn't a good idea 
to lick a boy's willie, and especially to put it in your 
mouth. She tried to do it without using the word 'dirty', 
and she wasn't finding it at all easy.
"It did taste nice, though, Mummy. It tasted like 
Clarrie." Suzanne looked up at Tanya and clutched her 
hand. "*Why* can't I do it again?"
"Maybe Davie didn't like it," I suggested. "Did he tell 
you to stop?"
"Ooooh yes, but he didn't really mean it, did he?"
No, he probably didn't.
"I think, Suze, if you feel like doing anything like that 
to a boy, you should ask him first. And if he says no, 
then you must take 'no' for an answer."
Tanya, I thought, I can't believe you just said that.
One day, soon, these kids are going to begin to wonder 
why their mothers are so much younger than all the other 
kids' mothers. And then what are we going to tell them?


The girls didn't have that particular dilemma that day. 
Davie failed to put in an appearance, and Grandma Trudy 
reported that he didn't feel very well. Perhaps he'd got 
a bit of a cold through wearing damp clothes.
Victoria and Suzanne wanted to visit him, but we said he 
wouldn't want to talk if he had a sore throat. So we all 
went for a walk. Not the best idea in the world, because 
Pansy and Daniel led us straight to the very spot by the 
river where the act had taken place.
"They fell in just there, Mummy," she said. "There's the 
bush we hung their clothes on, and they ran around over 
there. And that's where they lay down for a cuddle!"
Victoria took my hand, and Suzanne reached for Tanya's.
"Let's go somewhere else, Mummy, I don't really like this 
place any more," said Victoria.
We moved on.


"What a fine mess this all is," said Grandma Trudy. "And 
I invited you all down here just for this."
"They were bound to get involved with boys some time," 
Tanya said.  "Perhaps it's just as well it's all 
happening right where we can see it."
"And Davie's a good lad," I added, "it could have been 
much worse if he'd been somebody like your Luke whatever 
his name was."
"O'Hara. Not a name I'm likely to forget." She sat down 
with a sigh.  "Pa shot him, you know, dumped him in the 
river." We both gasped. "Pa and two or three of the other 
men whose daughters had met up with Luke. That's why we 
had to move out of the farm in such a hurry."
"Go on, Grandma!" I whispered. This was better 
entertainment than television. They didn't do things by 
halves in the old days!
"Well, anyways, I started working at Harringtown, at the 
soda fountain, and everybody in the town used to come by, 
and I'd chat to them all. I knew everything that went on. 
And there was this guy, Mark. I suppose you'd say I took 
a fancy to him. And one night, we went to a dance. At the 
Elks' Club, it was. And everything was just fine, until 
*she* came along. Wendy Sherman. Wendy Sherman got what 
she wanted," Grandma Trudy said bitterly. "And she wanted 
Mark ...!"




Chapter 10:- Kippers In The Dark
Suzanne waited until Pansy stopped chattering. Then she 
deliberately made herself wait five more minutes, 
counting the seconds under her breath. Her cousin was 
breathing deeply now. Suzanne got up and crept to the 
door, watching Pansy's bed. There was no movement. She 
slipped out.
There were some grapes downstairs, in a bowl in the 
sitting room. The whole house was creaking as Suzanne 
slunk down the stairs. It was a good thing the place 
wasn't haunted, or she would have been dead scared. A fox 
was yapping in the distance, and a dog barked a warning 
in reply. Then, much closer, an owl hooted. Suzanne 
stopped, frozen to the spot, her heart thumping. She 
placed her hand on her chest, somewhere beneath her left 
boobie. Was that a ghost? Ghosts always went 'whoooo' 
like that. Didn't they? She thought of scuttling back up 
the stairs to the bedroom again, but if the ghost was 
outside it might come in and follow her up the stairs. 
She froze, summoning up her courage, and the moon came 
out, shining through the glass of the front door.
At least, with the moonlight, she could move again. She 
reached the bottom of the stairs and went through into 
the sitting room. The moon was gleaming through the lace 
curtains. Quick, there was the fruit bowl, where she had 
seen it earlier. She grabbed at the bunch of grapes, and 
shot back to the hallway. Then up the stairs, and 
straight on up to the next floor, the servants' quarters, 
as they called it.  Why quarters? Suzanne didn't know. 
Funny word.
This was Davie's room, the one with the door open a 
little way. She put her head round it. Empty? Must have 
gone to the loo, she thought, and went in. I'll wait for 
him here. Really ill people always like grapes. Even in 
the middle of the night. Here he comes, now.
Footsteps were coming along the landing. And low voices, 
whispering.  Davie can't be talking to himself! Two of 
them? Something made Suzanne realise it might be better 
if she wasn't discovered standing here.  Hide! Where? 
There was a wardrobe. It was a tight fit for her, but she 
pulled the door closed as far as it would go. It touched 
the tips of her breasts and squashed her erect nipples as 
she buried herself in the shirts and sweaters hanging 
there. Davie's things. The thought excited her.
Two shadowy figures crept into the room. Davie was one, 
the other one wore a nightie, it was a girl. No, it was 
bigger than that. His mother? Maisie? Then she recognised 
Clarrie's voice. So, Clarrie had come to visit him as 
well. I hope she hasn't brought grapes. Even really ill 
people can have too many grapes.
But Clarrie hadn't brought grapes.
Suzanne watched in the dim moonlight as Davie climbed on 
to his bed, and Clarrie climbed carefully on top of him! 
Were they having a fight?  In slow-motion? Strange, they 
seemed friendly enough. Clarrie was sitting on top of 
Davie, pinning him to the bed, bouncing up and down.  I 
bet that hurts, thought Suzanne, especially when you're 
really ill.
Whatever they were doing was obviously hard work. Clarrie 
was starting to moan and groan, and Davie kept making 
grumbling noises, hardly surprising with that great big 
woman leaping around, sitting  on his tummy. And she 
thought she could see a bit of sweat on Clarrie's face in 
the moonlight. Golly, if it was such hard work as that, 
why didn't they stop?
Clarrie showed no signs of stopping. If anything, she was 
working harder. She began to yelp at regular intervals, 
one yelp to each bounce, until she hovered above poor 
Davie, before plunging down with a scream which echoed 
round the room. In fact, the whole house must have heard 
that one. Certainly, the whole house shook. Clarrie was 
no lightweight.
Davie was in a position to agree. "Shhhhhh, for fuck's 
sake!" he hissed. Clarrie only moaned in reply, then bent 
over and poured soft wet kisses on Davie's face.
At least, she's sorry, thought Suzanne. But it's a bit 
late now. The young girl was half crouched in the 
wardrobe, and it was getting a bit cramped in there. 
Cautiously, she tried to stand up straight. Her head 
bumped into the rail crowded with coathangers. They 
jangled musically, and she grabbed at them.
"Fuck was that?" said Davie.
"Nothing, lie still, boy."
"It was the wardrobe," he said. "There's somebody in the 
*wardrobe*!"
"How could anyone get in that little thing?" Clarrie 
asked scornfully.  "You hearing ghosts, now? Bad as those 
young kids down there, you are, hearing ghosts all 
night." She kissed his face again. It sounded like a big 
wet one. "Oooh, yes! Dav-eee!" murmured Clarrie.
Oh, no, thought Suzanne. There they go again. Why does he 
let her do it? Davie, as a matter of fact, was beginning 
to wonder very much the same thing. Half an hour later, 
when Clarrie had stopped bucking and lay panting on his 
chest, he spoke in a pained voice.
"Christ, Clarrie, you've really crushed my balls, honest. 
I bet they're bleeding, get off, and let's have a look!"
His lover only giggled, and humped violently a couple of 
times, making Davie grunt and whinny in pain.
Suzanne, indignant, was seriously considering leaping out 
and dragging Clarrie off him by force.
"Clarrie, darling," wheedled Davie. "Can't we try it the 
other way for a change?"
"The other way? Corrr, you adventurous little bugger! I 
never thought you had it in you. Which way do you fancy, 
then?" She ran through her catalogue. "Doggie? 
Missionary?"
What was the girl talking about, Davie wondered. Dogs and 
missionaries. All he wanted was for Clarrie to do it to 
him the other way. Bloody hell, if little Victoria knew 
about it, you'd think big Clarrie would.
"Oh, please, Clarrie, do it the other way ..."
"All right then, just this once. And I wouldn't do it for 
anyone else, mind!" She rolled off him and lay on her 
back, her legs apart, thrusting upward with her hips in 
an experimental manner. "Come on then, lover! FUCK me!"
"What? How can we do it if you're lying down there?" He 
shook her arm and her big breasts wobbled like half 
deflated beachballs full of goats milk. "Do it, we're 
wasting time!"
"You don't know *what* you want, do you?" she complained. 
"Well, you want it another way, you shall have it. Get up 
and kneel facing this way ..."
Meanwhile, in the wardrobe, Suzanne was engrossed. At 
last, she knew what the couple were trying to do. She had 
heard a word she recognised from school. Most people only 
whispered it, but these two spoke it in normal voices. 
Anyway, they were going to FUCK. At least, it would make 
a change from whatever they'd been trying to do before.
She watched the complex preparations, as Davie followed 
Clarrie's detailed instructions. Somehow, he ended up 
with Clarrie's powerful legs clasped around his waist. 
After several minutes, there were theatrical sighs and a 
fresh burst of instructions, and Clarrie kneeled facing 
away from Davie, her boobies dangling down to rest on the 
mattress. More humping and grunting, more instructions, 
then Clarrie was flat on her back with Davie on top of 
her. But the teenager was a good strong girl, and she 
ended up in her favourite position, and made Davie pay 
for his rashness by squashing his nuts once and for all.
"There. That's squashed the fuckers for you. You've got 
five minutes to recover. I'm going for a piss!" and 
Clarrie climbed off Davie's useless corpse and hurried 
out of the bedroom.
Suzanne cautiously pushed open the wardrobe door. Time to 
get out of here, she thought. She tiptoed stiffly to the 
bed, where Davie was already snoring softly, placed the 
grapes beside him on the sheet, and crept out. I'll 
really have something to tell Pansy and Victoria in the 
morning, she thought.
Suzanne's little head, brimming with new-found knowledge, 
had no sooner touched her pillow than a blood-curdling 
scream rang out.  Lights came on all over the house, and 
thunderous footsteps could be heard in the servants' 
quarters, scurrying from Davie's room to Clarrie's. Then 
an uneasy silence reigned once more.
Davie, meanwhile, had at last summoned up the courage to 
get up off his back and identify the wet, soggy mess on 
the sheets beneath his body.
"Grapes? How the bleeding fuck did a bunch of grapes get 
in my bed? I don't even *like* sodding grapes!"


Suzanne was bursting to tell her cousins, but the chance 
wouldn't come. She wanted to tell them both, and both 
together. But when Pansy was available, there was no sign 
of Victoria. And when she ran Victoria to earth after 
breakfast, she couldn't find Pansy. Why was it, she 
thought, when you had something as important as this to 
tell, you had no-one to tell it to.
Clarrie had served the breakfast. She looked very fit and 
well, no black eyes or visible damage. Davie, though, had 
clearly come off second best. Suzanne saw him in the 
kitchen, looking pale and tired.  He was obviously really 
ill. I wonder if he enjoyed his grapes, she thought, but 
thought she'd better not ask him, not in front of his 
mother.
It was nearly teatime before the three young girls were 
finally all together in the same place at the same time. 
They sat at the table on the terrace eyeing an enormous 
cream cake, which Nana Trudy had made all by herself. 
Four days of heavy eating had left the girls feeling 
distinctly full, but they had no intention of passing up 
a cake like that one.
Meanwhile, the three of them were alone at last. Suzanne 
drew the other two closer to her. 
"Guess what!"
"What?"
"Guess what I saw."
"What you saw?"
"Last night!"
"Last night?"
"You were in bed last night. You never saw anything, you 
were asleep," Pansy accused her.
"Not all the time. After you went to sleep, I got up. And 
guess what I saw!"
"What you saw?"
"I went to see Davie with some grapes."
"Grapes, what for?"
"Really ill people like grapes. They make them all 
better. Anyway, I took them up to his bedroom ..."
....there were two horrified gasps...
.".. and I went in, and I heard somebody coming, and it 
was Davie and Clarrie."
"Clarrie? How do you know that?"
"I saw them. I hid in the wardrobe. It was a bit small, 
and it squashed my titties, but I could see what they 
were doing. And guess what!"
"They were eating kippers," said Victoria confidently.
"No, I don't think so," said Suzanne, uncertainly. "No, 
they got into bed and Clarrie got on top of Davie and 
bounced up and down!"
"That's stupid! What for?" asked Pansy.
"I dunno, do I!" said Suzanne. "Maybe they were arguing 
and Clarrie decided to sort him out. She's big enough. 
Hey, she's enormous without her clothes on." She lowered 
her voice. "She's got HUGE titties," she said, blushing. 
"They're bigger than mine, even!"
"Was that it, then?" Victoria didn't want to hear about 
Suzanne's titties.
"No! The best bit was after that, when they started 
fucking."
"Fucking? Oh!" Pansy sounded shocked.
"Yeah! Fucking!" Suzanne savoured the word. "Davie asked 
Clarrie to do it the other way, and she said, 'okay, fuck 
me', and he did."
"You mean she sat on his face?" said Victoria with 
disgust.
"No, why?"
"That's the other way," Victoria said.
"I wouldn't want anyone to sit on my face. Poo!" said 
Pansy.
"Well, you have to, if you do it the other way, 'cos 
that's the other way to do it, so there!"
"Well I'm not ever going to do it the other way then. I'm 
always going to do it the same way. When I get married," 
Pansy was firm on that point.
Suzanne felt that her big scene had got out of hand. What 
was all this business about sitting on people's faces? 
Mind you, Pansy had a point.  Bottoms were big, horrible, 
stinky things. Why should anyone want anyone else to sit 
on their face? Furtively, she slipped a finger into her 
pants for a few seconds then sniffed it. Yes! Even mine's 
stinky, she thought. That's it, then. I'll never do it 
the other way. I'll do it the right way, whatever that 
is.
Clarrie came out on to the terrace with more cakes, and 
the three girls stared at her in a new light. Clarrie 
shifted uncomfortably as three pairs of eyes followed her 
every move. Can I help you to anything, girls? Go on, 
then, dive in.
They did, taking three enormous slices of cream cake that 
made Clarrie's eyes pop out. That was when Davie came 
outside.
"Hi, girls. Hi, Clarrie"
"Hello, Davie," the girls chorused.
"Are you feeling better today, Davie?" asked Victoria 
smarmily.
"Did you enjoy your grapes, Davie," asked Pansy, with a 
triumphant glance at Suzanne.
Davie's eyes narrowed. What was going on here?
"Davie," said Suzanne, earnestly. "When I'm a big grown-
up woman, I promise I'll never sit on your face. We'll 
*always* do it the right way, okay?"




Chapter 11:- Still Growing Girls
"We've been here, what is it? A week?" Tanya lounged 
beside the pool, licking at an ice cream.
"Nearly ten days," I told her. "Time certainly flies ..."
."..when you're enjoying yourself! Well, those girls are 
certainly enjoying themselves. They must be eating their 
own weight in cream cakes every day. Look at them!"
I already had been. My Victoria and Pansy, topless as 
usual, were cavorting on the other side of the pool. They 
seemed so much bigger than when we'd arrived. You could 
actually see how much they'd grown.  Victoria was bigger 
all over, breasts, waist and hips. Her thighs were 
heavier. Pansy, too, must have been three or four inches 
bigger round the waist, in only nine days! As for 
Suzanne, words failed me. The child had certainly added a 
few pounds, but it was all on her bust, all of it!
"We can't stop them eating," said Tanya, shaking her head 
at the sight of her daughter. "They're going to have to 
get some new clothes, I'm afraid. Underwear, too, and we 
all know how much of a problem that is for them. I'd have 
seen Mrs Cooper before we came, but who would have 
thought they'd get as big as this?"
"We don't have a Mrs Cooper round here, though, do we? I 
wonder if Grandma Trudy knows anyone?"
"I would imagine she would," Tanya laughed. If she 
doesn't, I can't imagine who does!"


She did, of course. "I'll get Clarrie to give Sandy a 
call, and we'll see what they need, honey," said Grandma 
Trudy, "Sandy does all our bras; and our dresses, too, 
when we need something a little special.  That's Amy and 
Clarrie, as well as me. We're what you'd call a valued 
customer, and I can't wait 'til Sandy sees these kids!"
And we were all sitting around the garden next morning 
when an open-topped lilac sports car scrunched down the 
drive.
"Bloody hell," Tanya breathed, who's *this*?"
*This* was a gorgeous hunk of man in a lilac suit, 
exactly matching the car. He was mincing delicately over 
the close-clipped grass, carrying a small case. As he 
came closer, he took off his wrap-around dichroic blue 
sunglasses and ran a long-fingered hand through his thick 
blond quiff.
Grandma Trudy came out of the house at that moment. 
"Girls, I'd like you to meet Sandy!"
"Sandy?" Tanya's jaw had dropped as she looked from Trudy 
to the hunky vision who now towered above her.
"Sandy," I confirmed. "Or possibly Alexander?"
"Alexander it is," he said, lisping only very slightly. 
"My Sunday name. Sandy to my best friends."
"Sandy is a jewel," said Grandma Trudy. "The most nimble 
set of fingers with a needle outside London. Did Clarrie 
explain the problem," she asked him.
"All she'd say was that you wanted some new brassieres. 
She didn't mention a problem at all."
"Well, it's not a problem as such. We just have a few 
little girls who need new bras, is all!"
Sandy shrugged and smiled. If Madam wanted to pay top 
prices for bras for little girls, that was all right by 
him. The big American woman was laughing.
"Not *little*, I got the wrong word, there. Let's just 
call them 'young' girls."
I could see the girls inside the house, looking curiously 
out through the patio doors. I waved to them, relieved to 
see that they weren't dressed for swimming, or undressed, 
to be more precise. They wore their shorts and extra 
large T-shirts. They came over, and stood in a row, 
gazing at Sandy curiously. He looked back at them, his 
expression faltering for the first time.
"I think I see what you mean, Mrs Pym," he said, shaking 
his head.
"Can you do anything for them?" Tanya asked.
Sandy was slowly recovering his composure. "Oh, I'm sure 
I can do something."
"Bras and swimsuits, Sandy," said Grandma Trudy firmly, 
although Tanya and I both opened our mouths to protest. 
"They've been eating rather too well this last week, I'm 
afraid!"
And Sandy sat down, opened his case and produced a tape 
measure. The girls were well used to Mrs Cooper, but not 
to a man measuring them, even a man like Sandy, who 
seemed to them to be more like a woman than most women.
"He was nice," said Pansy after Sandy had driven away. 
"When is he coming back with our new bras and bikinis? I 
can't wait.
Pansy *couldn't* wait. To my shame, when she had lifted 
her T-shirt for Sandy to get the tape around her, I could 
see that her shorts wouldn't meet around her waist, by 
about four inches. A little roll of fat swelled over the 
top of them. Even Victoria, who was tall enough to carry 
the extra weight a little better, had obviously put on 
about three inches around her waist, and at least an inch 
on her womanly hips. But if I felt ashamed at my girls' 
expansion, Tanya shook her head in disbelief whan 
Suzanne's turn came to be measured.
Suzanne's bust had swelled by something like three 
inches. It was obvious because she was wearing her best 
bra under her T-shirt, and it took her and her blushing 
mother quite a struggle to get it off. Her boobs were 
practically exploding out of it.


We realised how much the girls had increased in size the 
very next day, when Sandy brought along a whole picnic 
hamper full of new bras and clothes for them. Outside by 
the pool, the kids paraded round in their new bras, 
before squeezing themselves into bikinis which made me 
feel a little uneasy, just looking at them. At least, as 
Tanya whispered to me, you have to admit it's better than 
having them running around in just their panties. Which 
was certainly one way of looking at it.
"Can we go for a walk after lunch, Mummy?" Suzanne stood 
in front of Tanya, her hands clasped behind her back, 
twisting herself from side to side and pouting slightly. 
"We won't fall in the river again."
Clever girl, getting her answers in before Tanya had even 
asked the question. Suzanne followed up her advantage.
"If we were to wear our new swimsuits under our tops, it 
wouldn't matter even if we did fall in, would it?" 
Excellent argument, Suzanne, I thought, get out of that 
one, Sis! She didn't.
"You behave yourselves, then, understand?"
"Ooooh, we will, Mummy. Can Clarrie come with us, to make 
sure we're good?"
"Well, I suppose so, if she's free," said Tanya, 
surprised.
Clarrie was free, as it turned out. So was Davie, 
naturally.


Davie had watched the whole thing from upstairs. 
Realising he couldn't see the pool from his own bedroom 
window, he had slipped along the passageway to Clarrie's 
room. From the maid's window, he had been able to see the 
girls trying on their bras and bikini tops.
And once Sandy had driven away, the girls slipped into 
their new bikinis and plunged into the pool, their 
breasts bouncing. They looked even bigger now, he 
thought. Bloody hell, even little Pansy looked good 
enough to ...
His lewd thoughts were punctuated in no uncertain manner.
"So this is where you get to when I'm downstairs, hard at 
work!"
Clarrie crept up behind him and flung her arms round his 
waist.  "Ooooh! That's not the only hard thing round 
here, either! Come on, lover, get your gear off and lie 
down on Clarrie's little bed."
Davie had no choice in the matter. She manhandled him to 
her bed and tipped him on to his back. The sheets and 
pillows smelled powerfully of Clarrie. Davie's erection 
throbbed afresh and Clarrie wasted no time. No time to 
take her panties off, she slipped them aside and lowered 
herself on to the boy. It was as if she'd never been 
away, he thought, he had hardly recovered from last 
night's efforts.
"Just a quickie, lover," Clarrie whispered, bending to 
whisper wetly in his ear. "I've got to start getting 
lunch ready." And the teenager briskly pleasured herself 
on Davie's rigid column. "There you go," she said 
happily, dismounting and tugging her panties back into 
position, where they immediately became soaked and 
transparent with leaking juices. "See you later," she 
said, waving her fingers as she darted out of the door.


Davie hadn't really recovered when the gong sounded for 
lunch. He went downstairs slowly and painfully, 
remembering not to clutch at his aching balls as he 
entered the kitchen.
"You can go for a walk with Clarrie and the girls this 
afternoon," Maisie told him. "But no falling in the water 
this time, all right?"
At least it would get him away from the bedroom, so he 
wouldn't be grabbed and used again by the insatiable 
Clarrie. A whole afternoon without being fucked loomed 
ahead of him, and he brightened visibly. A whole 
afternoon getting close to those delicious young girls in 
their new bikinis. He could see them out on the patio 
now, and began to get hard again.
Clarrie noticed. How did she do it, could she smell an 
erection at ninety paces, he wondered. The girl found an 
excuse to pass through the confined space between him and 
the table, and she pressed her soft, warm and generous 
bottom against him, rubbing up and down for a few 
moments. She moved away half a second before Maisie 
turned round.  The housekeeper looked at the lovers 
suspiciously, but saw nothing incriminating going on.
"Here y'are, Davie, love, get this down you, then you can 
go and change into something respectable for the 
afternoon. I don't know, those clothes look as if you 
slept in them!"


They walked along through the long grass beside the 
river. Davie swished at the tops of the cow parsley with 
a stick. Clarrie had gone on ahead with Pansy and Daniel. 
Victoria and Suzanne had fallen into their usual 
positions, one on each side of Davie. They both pressed 
against him, and he gazed from one to the other in 
amazement. Both wore T-shirts over their bikini bras and 
to the boy's fevered imagination, the girls' tits seemed 
to be swelling before his eyes.
"We're wearing our new bikinis, Davie," Suzanne told him, 
in case he hadn't noticed. "Look," she said, cupping her 
breasts and offering them to him like a sacrifice. He had 
to look away. It didn't help.
"We'd all grown so much this week," Victoria said. "It's 
Nana Trudy's food. All those cakes and things! We're 
getting huge!"
"Mummy said it's all going straight to my boobies!" 
Suzanne confided, loudly. "I sneaked a look at the tape 
measure when that man Sandy was measuring me. It said I 
was forty-five inches! That's five inches bigger than 
Victoria," she said, completely without malice.
Davie was finding walking more and more difficult. He 
tried to rearrange the contents of his shorts, to 
Victoria's interest.
"Golly, Davie, are you getting a hard-on again? Is it 
because of us talking about our boobies? Is that what's 
making your thingie all hard, Davie?"
"Why should that make him hard, Victoria?" Suzanne asked, 
bemusedly.
"We're only talking, not sitting on his face."
"Nor eating kippers," added Victoria, who was by now 
fully convinced of the aphrodisiac properties of smoked 
herrings.
Davie shook his head. These two were really weird, he 
thought. Always going on about sitting on people's faces 
and eating kippers. Perhaps there was something in what 
Victoria said. He would have to ask Clarrie if she could 
bring some kippers from the kitchen next time they did 
it. The thought of doing it made his cock feel tired, and 
it slumped a few degrees. Surreptitiously, he tucked it 
into a more comfortable position. To his horror, he felt 
a small hand helping him.
"Let me do that," Suzanne giggled, "there, is that 
better? It's not so hard now, should we talk about our 
boobies and make it hard again, Davie?" Both girls looked 
up innocently into his face.
"No," he croaked, stopping and sinking to the ground on 
his stomach.
"Look," he pointed desperately into the water. "There's a 
fish!"
"Is it a kipper?" whispered Victoria, enthralled.
"I don't think so," said Suzanne. "That one's silver, 
kippers are brown."
"And you can't smell it, either," Victoria said with more 
certainty.
"If it was a kipper, you'd be able to smell it from 
here."
Davie, meanwhile, had slipped his hand gently into the 
water. The girls fell silent, watching him, as he slid it 
closer and closer to the fish, pausing for seconds at a 
time. Breathlessly, they looked on as he gently slipped 
his hand beneath the fish's belly.
"He's tickling it," whispered Suzanne, enthralled, 
bending closer.
"What for?" Victoria wanted to know. Then she found out, 
as Davie's hand came out of the water, the little fish 
resting on his palm, suddenly wriggling in his grasp as 
it realised its fatal mistake.  Suzanne threw up her 
hands in delight just as the fish escaped and dived 
neatly into the girl's yawning cleavage.
"Aaaaaaagh! Gerroff!" Suzanne leaped to her feet and 
clutched at her bosom, plucking the shirt away from 
herself. The fish refused to lie still, twitching between 
the plump spheres of her breasts. Suzanne capered around, 
trying to reach down her neck, but there wasn't really 
enough room in her bodice for her hands as well as 
everything else that was in there. The fish was lodged 
head first in the front of her bikini bra, and it was 
panicking. So was Suzanne. Inevitably, as she hopped 
around, she got closer to the river's edge.
"Look out, Suze!" shouted Victoria. Too late. For the 
second time in a just over a week, Suzanne went head over 
heels into the water, closely followed, as usual, by 
Davie. They sploshed around as Victoria screamed, 
bringing Clarrie, Pansy and Daniel running to the scene.
They clambered out to safety.
The fish had escaped.




Chapter 12:- Tickling
"Well, with any luck, she won't fall in the river again 
today," Tanya said, sitting on a towel by the pool. With 
a smaller towel, she wiped the droplets off her arms and 
the outside of her thighs.
Grandma Trudy watched her. "You'd better take that shirt 
off if you're not going in the pool again for a while. It 
will soon dry in this sun."
"I suppose so. I'm just not used to sitting around half 
naked."
"If you're topless, Tan, it's a good deal more than half 
of you that's naked," I told her, and she stuck her 
tongue out at me, the way she does. But she grasped the 
bottom of the clinging T-shirt and disentangled it from 
her breasts, before pulling it up and over her head. We 
watched as she spread it on the hot ground. Steam rose 
almost immediately from it.
"Wow, Tanya," Grandma Trudy stared at her, "I just can't 
believe those titties of yours!"
Tanya was drying the tops of her breasts, and peering 
around them to get at the sides.
"Here, let me do that, Tan!" I went and knelt beside her 
and she handed me the towel gratefully. "Lie on your 
back," I told her, and I dried her chest and stomach 
carefully when her breasts cascaded to lie on each side 
of her body. It reminded me of the old days, and nights.
"Sandy will be bringing your new bikini tomorrow," said 
Grandma Trudy.
"He's very quick."
"I can't imagine what you're going to look like in a 
bikini, Sis," I said, tickling her in the ribs.
She squirmed, and her tits heaved like a pair of white 
whales. "So long as it keeps these things pointing in the 
same direction as I'm swimming, I'll be happy with it."
We fell silent for a few minutes as I dried around her 
panties and inner thighs. She obligingly raised one knee, 
then the other one in turn. Her eyes were closed. Was she 
remembering the way we used to do this, as I was?
"How are the kids doing at school?" Grandma Trudy asked, 
as if she needed to say something to break the spell.
"Victoria and Pansy are getting on all right," I said, 
"now the other kids don't tease them so much. Victoria 
straightened them out."
"I wish someone would straighten them out for Suzanne," 
sighed Tanya.
"Doesn't she go to the same school?"
"No, we live too far away, and I can't drive a car. For 
physical reasons!" she added quickly when Grandma Trudy 
looked surprised.
"We were thinking about having a private tutor for 
Suzanne, until she's old enough to go to a big school," I 
said, spreading the wet towel out to dry. Tanya's tits 
are big enough to make a towel very wet.
"Oh, Sis," she complained, "you know that's a no-no. I 
can't get a tutor for Suze. She's going to have to 
survive the way she is.  Although he's going to hate it 
all the more after this holiday with the others."
"Especially if she carries on growing the way she has 
this week!" I said.
"It's as bad as that, is it?" Grandma Trudy looked 
thoughtful.
"She comes home in tears most days," said Tanya, sitting 
up with an effort and hugging her knees. It wasn't easy 
for Tanya to do that, as her breasts had to hang down on 
each side of her chest, where they rested on the ground.
"Why couldn't she stay here?"
"Here? For school?"
"Kind of. There's a friend of ours. Retired school 
teacher. She retired early, she's not old. She retired to 
look after her mother, and the lady died a couple months 
ago. It's just possible Judy Thresher would jump at the 
chance to do a bit of teaching again."
"It would be great, and it sounds like it would give her 
something to do ... but, Gran, I really can't afford it. 
She would want far more than I've got."
"Honey, I don't want to interfere with Suzanne's 
schooling, or take her away from her loving mother, but 
if, as you say, she's so unhappy at school, don't you 
think it would be a good thing?"
"There's no doubt about that, but ..."
.".. in that case, why don't I call Judy and see how she 
feels?  Suzanne, too. We've plenty of time to think it 
through. And Tanya, if the answer's 'yes', the money's 
not a problem, okay?"
Tanya was looking at Grandma Trudy. She rolled on to her 
hands and knees and crawled over to the older woman like 
a great big baby, except that her breasts were dragging 
along the ground. She sat next to her.
"I'd miss her so much! But if she was happy, and 
learning, and not being teased every day by thoughtless, 
cruel kids ..."
Grandma Trudy held her arms out and hugged Tanya. It was 
a pretty amazing sight!



At least, this time, Suzanne wasn't naked. As her T-shirt 
hung on the bush to dry, the girl lay on her back in the 
sunshine, and Davie tried to avoid looking at her. 
Without success. She seemed to be everywhere his eyes 
went. Lightly supported in her bikini top, the kid's 
mountainous breasts were magnificently plump and full, 
and hardly sagged at all, not like Clarrie's. But then 
Clarrie rarely lay on her back, she preferred it on top.
Davie was glad he hadn't worn his jeans, his shorts would 
dry much more quickly. Meanwhile, Clarrie had insisted 
that he couldn't be naked in front of the girls, so she 
had given him her panties to wear.  Davie was outraged.
"I can't wear those!" he stormed. "They're for girls."
"Not just any girl, lover, they're mine!" Clarrie 
murmured, threading the damp little garment on over his 
feet and easing them up his legs.  They were far too 
large, even with their elastic waist, Clarrie being about 
a foot bigger than the boy round the hips. But somehow, 
he managed to fill them, and Clarrie's nearness, combined 
with the painful sight of the recumbent Suzanne, meant 
that Davie found it necessary to lie on his stomach to 
hide his erection. There was another reason for his 
erection, too, although it worried him. He found it 
incredibly exciting to be wearing a girl's knickers. And 
when he thought about it, and realised that if he was 
enjoying wearing girl's knickers, there must be something 
wrong with him, and even THAT thought made him excited! 
It was so confusing.
Clarrie lay beside him, so he was between her and 
Suzanne. Victoria sat on a tuft of grass and watched them 
all.
"It's a pity the kipper got away," she sighed.
"Kipper? What kipper?" said Clarrie.
"Davie caught a kipper in the river," said Suzanne, 
"didn't you, Davie, and it dived out of his hand in 
between my titties. Head first." She peered down into her 
cleavage as if she thought it might still be hiding down 
there somewhere. There was room for a whole shoal of 
them, Davie thought, and groaned aloud.
Clarrie sniffed. "Kippers live in the sea," she said, 
with all the assurance of a young woman who worked in a 
kitchen. "It must have been something else."
"A salmon," suggested Pansy.
"No, salmon live in cans," Suzanne said with certainty. 
"It wasn't in a can."
"I still think it was a kipper," said Victoria. "You 
could have taken it home for your supper, 'stead of 
throwing it down Suze's bra. You and Clarrie could have 
eaten it in bed."
"While she was sitting on your face," laughed Suzanne, 
and the cousins rocked from side to side for joy.
"Why are you always going on about sitting on people's 
faces, you kids," Davie whined at them. "You're obsessed 
with sex, you are."
"No we're not!" shouted Victoria.
"What's sex?" Pansy asked.
"It's sitting on people's faces," said Suzanne, getting 
to her feet.  Quickly, taking the boy by surprise, she 
grabbed his shoulder and turned him on to his back. "Like 
this!" she shouted, and she hovered over Davie for a 
second or so, before flopping down. In fact, she sat down 
a little harder than she intended, finding balancing 
rather difficult, and Davie was effectively snuffed out.
"Get off him, you'll break his nose. Or suffocate him," 
Clarrie gasped.
"*You* didn't," said Victoria, "so little Suze won't. 
She's only half as big as you. Well, her bottom's only 
half as big, anyway. Her top's nearly the same size," she 
said, finding to her surprise that it was closer than she 
had imagined.
Davie wriggled, unable to escape from beneath Suzanne. He 
might have managed it, but he began to realise he didn't 
really want to. His struggles died away, although he made 
a token adjustment of position until his nose was 
comfortable.
Suzanne seemed to be enjoying it, too. She moved her hips 
experimentally, and felt Davie twitch beneath her. It 
went very quiet.
"Is he dead?" Pansy asked, with interest.
"He can't be, he's still moving," said Victoria, "look!"
Clarrie was already looking. The bit she was looking at 
was certainly moving, as if it had a life of its own. She 
badly wanted to take it into her mouth and swallow as 
much of it as she could, but surrounded by nosy kids, she 
wouldn't be allowed to get away with it. She let go of 
Davie's prick reluctantly, having grasped it without 
thinking.
"Was that nice, Clarrie?" Victoria wanted to know. "Could 
I hold it for you?"
"For me?"
"Well, could I hold it for Davie, then? Couldn't I just 
HOLD it?"
Victoria obviously wanted to hold it.
"I don't think it would be a good idea, Victoria," said 
Clarrie.
"Why not? Suze *sucked* it the other day!"
"Oh, yuck," said Pansy, "don't keep reminding us of 
that!"
Clarrie looked at Suzanne, who was taking no part in the 
conversation.  Her eyes were closed and there was a smile 
on her face as she knelt astride Davie's face, moving 
languidly. Davie was throbbing away oblivious to 
everything but the amazingly fragrant little bikini pants 
which filled his horizon. Not like Clarrie's bottom at 
all, exciting as it was; Suzanne smelled like fresh 
sweat, and sweet cookies, with just a hint of cheese. He 
took a deep breath. He was in no immediate danger of 
suffocation, although all the time he was getting closer 
to drowning.
"Ooooh!" Suzanne sighed, opening her eyes very wide for a 
brief moment, then closing them again. She said it again, 
"Ooooh!"
Clarrie sighed and sat back. Twenty seconds at the most, 
she thought.
Clarrie was never one to stand in the way of another 
girl's orgasm.  Her estimate was correct to within two 
seconds. Clarrie knew about such things. While the other 
girls looked on in concern, Suzanne's movements became 
more urgent, her moans built up to little cries.
"Suze?" said Victoria.
"Zanne?" said Pansy.
"Ooooh, Davie!" moaned Suzanne thoughtfully. A well 
brought-up girl, her first thoughts, despite the 
intensity of her feelings, were for her partner. She 
climbed off, and stood up, flexing her knees. "That felt 
nice!" she said to Clarrie. "I think I know why you do it 
now."
"So glad," said Clarrie, shakily.
Davie still lay on his back, shuddering.
"He doesn't seem very happy," Victoria said, "do you 
think *he* enjoyed it, too?"
"I think it's time we went back home," said Clarrie, 
"fetch your clothes, Suzanne. And bring Davie's shorts. 
He can't go home like this." She needed Davie alone, as a 
matter of urgency. The poor boy had been left in a state 
of deep need. And so had she.


"Here they come," I said, "they look dry enough from 
here."
"Davie looks a bit muddy," said Tanya. "So does Suzanne's 
shirt."
Pansy, as ever, took on the role of courier. "Mummy!" she 
cantered up to me, with Daniel bounding along behind her 
like an adoring puppy.  "Guess what? Suzanne fell in 
*again*!" She sighed heavily. "I simply don't know *what* 
we're going to do with her!"
Victoria and Suzanne were dragging along, taking their 
time. Clarrie and Davie had gone straight into the house, 
Clarrie leading the boy by the hand. If I hadn't known 
better, I'd have imagined she was dragging him along. The 
door closed behind them.
"It's good to see Clarrie looking so relaxed and casual," 
said Grandma Trudy, with a secret smile. "When Sir 
Roger's here, she has to wear her uniform all the time."
"Her *uniform*?" said Tanya.
"Oh, you wouldn't believe it! I'll tell you what. It's 
cruel, and we shouldn't do it, but I'll tell Maisie to 
make the girl wear her uniform to serve dinner tonight. 
Then you'll see!"
"It sounds intriguing," I said. It did.
"Oh, it is! Just you wait 'til you see her! Now then, 
what's been keeping these two?"
Victoria and Suzanne finally reached us.
"Has Pansy been telling tales again?" said Suzanne, 
defensively.
"She said you'd fallen in the river again," I said.
"Nothing else?" Victoria asked quickly. Too quickly.
"What else should she tell us?"
"Oh, nothing. Nothing happened, anyway."
"And if she did say anything else happened," said Suzanne 
helpfully, "it's all lies!"





<end 3/4>

From:	acotto@gate.net (Anthony Cotto)
	Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject:	Grown-up Girls, Part 4 (4/4) (big breasts, yng 
teen)
Date:	4 Dec 1995 17:01:55 -0500
	Message-ID: <49vr4j$11g2@navajo.gate.net>


THIS STORY WAS NOT WRITTEN BY ME!!!
I am posting it as a favor to the author, who wishes to 
remain anonymous. 
Any e-mail received by me will be forwarded to the 
author. 



GROWN-UP GIRLS
by Some Sort of Dog


WARNING: This story is for those readers over 18 years of 
age who have no objection to reading about young women's 
breasts getting bigger. It is a work of fiction, of 
fantasy, even. Everyone lives happily ever after. None of 
the events described in this story actually took place, 
to the undying regret of the author. No sexual acts are 
described as taking place between adults and minors. No 
young women explode. Nobody gets raped or killed. If you 
get off on that sort of thing, look elsewhere; I hope you 
find it.
None of the characters in this story is real. Their 
names, no matter how ordinary-sounding and everyday, are 
fictitious. Any resemblance to any real person, living or 
dead, is unintentional.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Some of the characters in this story have 
appeared previously in other stories. Tanya's 
Grandmother, Trudy, you may have heard of before 
elsewhere. (She was born and brought up in the United 
States.) Tanya, who appears in this story as a young 
mother of twenty-one, first became known to our readers 
as 'Big Little Sister' when she was only ten, and again 
in the next episode of the same saga, four years later. 
(She also made a special guest appearance in 'Fifth Form 
at St Cat's.) At that time, a number of readers were 
clamouring for more news of Tanya. We told them that the 
story had then reached the present day, so there wasn't 
yet any more to tell. Well, we lied.  Authors, living as 
they do in a dream-world, tell lies rather too often. 
Here's Tanya again, seven relatively uneventful years 
later, in another story narrated (mostly) by her older 
sister.




GROWN-UP GIRLS
by Some Sort of Dog




Part IV
Chapter 13:- Clarrie At Your Service
We were all in the sitting room, glowing with the heat of 
the day. The girls were playing cards on the rug. 
Occasionally, voices were raised, and even the odd fist. 
We watched them fondly. They were certainly taking no 
notice of the grown-ups talking.
"You know how you told us about the shy guy with the 
stammer, Gran?"
Tanya said.
"Oh, Mark? Mark Bryant, was it? Or Mark Collins? It's 
been a long time. Yes. Him and Wendy Sherman! I don't 
want to talk about what I did to them later. It would get 
me into trouble. But you remember how I went to stay with 
my brother and his wife. Every time I see these kids 
eating the way they do, it reminds me of the time when I 
was in Minneapolis with Tim and Martha."
"I couldn't eat a thing when I arrived, just picking at 
rice, salads and stuff. They were both trying to get me 
to eat more, but nope! But, then, I don't know what 
happened, but Tim was showing me an old chest of clothes 
and stuff in the attic. And there was one of my old bras 
in there. Must've been from when I was no more than 
twelve? Anyways, I tried it on. Oooh, it was a perfect 
fit around the chest, but I had nothing to put in the 
cups at all. Well, I couldn't believe how it had ever 
been mine; my memories had completely gone ..."
"And your mammaries, too," said Tanya, softly.
.".. yep, those too. But that was when Tim first told me 
about Pa and what he and the other men did to that Luke 
O'Hara, and how we had to get out of the farm. And it was 
like a load was lifted off my back, all of a sudden. Bits 
of memory started to come back. Slowly, but I started to 
remember things again, but this time, it was all right, 
you know? 'Cos Luke O'Hara wasn't coming back. Ever!"
"And I started eating. Oh, these kids coulda' learned 
from me! I ate nearly a whole cake one night. Brand new 
cake, and by the time little Trudy had done with it, 
there was one slice left. I should have finished it off 
and acted innocent, but Martha and Tim were so pleased I 
was eating again, they started feeding me up like a prize 
pig. And every bit of it went straight up here. Nothing 
down here, or down here, all up here!"
"I shot right back up to fifty-six inches in two months! 
And even after that, though I slowed down, I still 
carried on growing and eating and eating and growing, 
even after I went off looking for a man. I went off 
looking for a man, and I found Roger!"
"And of course, he said I reminded him of his Mummy! Only 
his Mom was even more so than me, 'cos right then - I was 
still putting on weight up top - I guess I was no more 
than fifty-nine or sixty inches when we got married, but 
by the time we landed at Southampton and went just down 
the road to Bournemouth to meet his folks, I was up to 
more than sixty four inches. I know that, because I had 
to buy a new dress for the occasion, and I remember 
telling the dressmaker I'd been as big as this before I'd 
even reached my twelfth birthday! I tried to tell her all 
American girls were as big as me, and I still think she 
half believed me!"
A gong sounded somewhere out in the hall.
"Dinner is served, girls, kids!" She hardly needed to 
tell the kids, they were almost tearing the door down to 
get into the dining room.  "You watch their faces," she 
whispered to us, "when they get to see Clarrie in her 
uniform! Now, you sure you're all ready for this?"


I thought I was, but the sight of Clarrie in her uniform 
made me gasp.
My jaw hit the table. The girls were staring at her in 
astonishment.
They couldn't believe her.
"Sir Roger makes her wear this gear?" Clarrie had brought 
out the bread rolls and undulated back into the kitchen.
"He insisted on it, right from when Clarrie first started 
here. What do you think of her?"
"She's incredible! She looks twice as big. Up top, at 
least, where it matters. Her waist isn't! She looks as 
though she's going to snap in half!"
"That's what Roger likes. He prefers to be surrounded by 
girls that remind him of his Mother. Clarrie's not as big 
as his Mom was, but trussed up like that, she's not far 
off!"
The maid came back in with a stack of plates, placing 
them in front of each of us. The girls never took their 
eyes off her. As well they might. Clarrie was a big girl, 
as you will have gathered by now. Her broad hips were 
squeezed into the most microscopic skirt I'd ever seen. 
Her legs looked endless in black stockings. Her legs were 
certainly longer than the stockings, because you could 
see the tops of them, and even the suspender belt that 
held them up.
"Thank you, Clarrie," said Grandma Trudy. "You look 
stunning as usual."
"Thank you, ma'am!" blushed Clarrie, with a little 
curtsey, and went back into the kitchen again, her high 
heels clicking on the parquet, her hips swaying 
extravagantly. Grandma Trudy winked at us and we started 
giggling. Once we started, we couldn't stop. Tanya nudged 
me and spluttered into her napkin. Clarrie was coming 
back in again, but if she noticed us giggling - and she 
could hardly miss it - she didn't show it. I looked at 
her more closely. Was her skirt even shorter?
I didn't see how it possibly could be, but now an inch or 
two of creamy thigh was visible above the tops of her 
stockings. Her blouse swelled out from an improbably 
small waist - certainly at least six inches smaller than 
Clarrie's usual almost thirty inches - to an incredibly 
swollen bosom, somehow compressed into a bursting, 
straining white blouse. A pert little black bow tie was 
echoed by the black ribbons which tied her hair into two 
swinging pony tails which danced around her meaty 
shoulders.
It was my turn to nudge Tanya, and I pointed at Clarrie's 
skirt, just as she bent over to serve Grandma Trudy. We 
stared into the cloacal darkness beneath the maid's 
skirt, and realised as we exchanged glances, that Clarrie 
wasn't wearing any panties. We could certainly see where 
they ought to have been, and they simply weren't there!
Each time Clarrie disappeared into the kitchen, she 
seemed to come back subtly changed, each time in a 
different way. Her skirt became shorter. Her waist became 
even tighter, buttons began to come undone, as if by 
accident, then more of them, until twin piled-up mounds 
of creamy breast became visible in the gap at the front 
of her blouse.
"If your necktie is too tight, Clarrie, you may take it 
off!" said Grandma Trudy, smiling at us again. Clarrie 
nodded and bobbed again.
"Yes'm!" she said quietly. Next time she came in, the bow 
tie was gone, and the top four buttons of her blouse were 
undone. On successive visits, more and still more breast 
was revealed, until the whole of her platform bra was 
visible, with her breasts resting on the quarter cups 
like unbaked cottage loaves. Her nipples seemed to stick 
out further each time, until by the end, they were almost 
out in the open.
"It's all a game," said Grandma Trudy when the maid was 
out of the room again. "Clarrie knows the rules. Roger 
and her, they play it all the time, with one or two 
variations. When she does it particularly well, and 
thinks of some new and creative idea, she gets a special 
reward! No reward this time, though. Poor Clarrie! 
Although, somehow, knowing Clarrie, I don't think she'll 
go short of affection while Roger's away!"
Tanya and I looked at her in surprise, but Grandma Trudy 
wasn't saying anything.


What we didn't know, and couldn't see, was that Davie was 
in hiding, and was right at the centre of the action. The 
door to the kitchen passed through a short passageway. 
Davie lurked out there, positioned so that he could be 
certain of catching a glimpse of young Suzanne every time 
the dining room door opened. At the same time, Clarrie 
passed him twice on each of her journeys to and fro.
She made a point of doing the trip as often as possible, 
pausing briefly to rub herself against Davie each time. 
He gave her breasts a rub and a squeeze, or slipped a 
hand up between her hot thighs. No wonder the girl was 
almost panting by the time she had cleared away the 
pudding dishes and served the coffee.
"Thank you, Clarrie, that will be all," said Grandma 
Trudy approvingly, and Clarrie shot out of the door, 
almost undressing as she went. If we'd listened 
carefully, we might have heard two sets of footsteps 
thundering up the back stairs to her bedroom, which was 
five yards closer than Davie's.
It had even made Tanya and me hot, just watching the 
oversexed serving girl going in and out. For all we knew, 
Grandma Trudy could feel the urge, too. I preferred not 
even to think about the kids getting aroused by it, but 
remembering what Tanya had been like at their age, there 
could have been no doubt about it.
"Time to get ready for bed, soon, kids," I told them. 
"Off you go and have one more game of cards, we'll see 
you shortly, okay?"
"All right, Mummy. Can Clarrie kiss us goodnight 
tonight?"
"Well, I don't know, Clarrie's been working very hard, 
she might be resting."
"She might have gone to bed," said Grandma Trudy, more 
accurately, with a wink at me.
"She can't go to bed before *us*, she's a grown-up," 
Victoria pouted.
"She gets up very early in the mornings, honey! But I 
will ask Clarrie, and if she's asleep, I'll come and give 
you a cuddle, if you're extra good."
That seemed to satisfy them.
"She'll be in bed all right, but maybe not her own!" 
Grandma Trudy whispered as soon as the kids had gone.
Tanya looked puzzled. "You mean she's gone out on a date? 
She's only been gone five minutes and she won't have had 
time to get bathed and changed."
"She won't have gone anywhere, no. And knowing young 
Clarrie, she won't be too bothered about a bath first. 
No, and I think you won't find young Davie anywhere at 
the moment, either!"
"Davie?" I asked her.
Tanya knew what I was thinking. If Davie was getting sex 
lessons from Clarrie, how much of his new-found knowledge 
was he passing on to Victoria and Suzanne?
"Is Davie shagging Clarrie?" Tanya asked in hushed tones.
"Shagging? Hey, I love that word. No, if anyone's 
shagging anyone, it's Clarrie who's doing the shagging! I 
caught them at it the other day. It's no good trying to 
stop them, it wouldn't work. You can't stop Clarrie 
needing sex a dozen times a day. The only danger is that 
she'll wear young Davie's dick away completely before 
Roger gets back!  But if she's keeping him busy, he won't 
be so keen on chasing after your lot. Still, it might be 
worth keeping an eye on him, he's a growing boy!"


At that precise moment, Davie wasn't growing, he was 
shrinking; ten minutes after Clarrie, still in her maid's 
outfit, mounted him just inside her bedroom door. They 
had never even made it as far as the bed, although while 
the boy was still recovering, Clarrie lugged him to his 
feet and heaved him on to the well-worn mattress. Then, 
finding herself with a few minutes of enforced free time, 
she undressed, leaving her uniform in a dank pile on the 
floor.
She stood, looking down at Davie, who was still panting 
like an exhausted dog. She massaged her breasts, looking 
critically at the marks left by the bra. Her nipples 
pointed at Davie like fingers of accusation. She reached 
down between her legs and stroked herself with her 
fingers, up and down, up and down; then wiped the 
moisture on the outside of her thighs. Slowly, as he 
looked up at her, Davie found himself becoming a new man.
Clarrie had that effect on people. She never failed to 
surprise Sir Roger, even at his advanced years. The old 
boy could still give his Trudy a good seeing-to when 
necessary, but Clarrie was different. He had told her so, 
in one of the many long pauses in their love-making.  
Davie was quicker, and more frequent, whereas Sir Roger 
made it last half the night and only did it once. It 
takes all sorts, thought Clarrie, philosophically.


Grandma Trudy poured the last of the coffee into our 
cups.
"That's just about all there was to it. As I say, I met 
Roger and we were married, then we arrived in this 
country, and I met his folks. I was scared, of course."
"What were they like?" Tanya stirred her cup, even this 
little movement causing ripples in the soft swells of her 
upper breasts. "I mean, we've seen these photos, but they 
don't show much."
"No, they don't," Grandma Trudy agreed, turning the pages 
of the album. "It's as if whoever took the pictures 
didn't want to show too much of Mrs Pym's figure! And 
there was certainly a lot of it to show.  Look at this 
one."
The photo was taken on a beach, and showed Sir Roger's 
mother in a bathing suit. Apart from the fact that her 
bust measurement seemed to be at least twice as big as 
her hips, it was difficult to see much detail. The shot 
was blurred. Infuriatingly blurred!
"I wish you could see more, but these are all the 
photographs we have.  Roger had told me when we first met 
that his mother was much bigger in the bust than me. To 
be frank, I hardly believed him, but when I saw her, I 
realised he was right. Those things were enormous!"
"She was bigger than you, yet you had a sixty-something 
inch bust?"
"Sixty-four, honey, but she made me look as if I was 
going instead of coming. Looking at you, Tanya, I can see 
where you get your boobs from. She was as big as you. Oh, 
yes, she was middle aged by then, but if she was as busty 
when she was younger, she must have been staggering to 
look at. As you are, darling! Hey, I just thought of 
something."
We sat forward, intently. When Grandma Trudy said 
something like this, it seemed it was always something 
spectacular!
"You know how when I was staying with Tim and Martha in 
Missouri, and we looked through that old chest in the 
attic ...? Roger has some boxes in the spare room, and he 
said they were old things of his mother's. I have never 
looked through them, but he wouldn't mind, I'm sure. 
After we've seen Judy Thresher tomorrow, why don't we 
take a look in the spare room? There might be some 
interesting things in there!"
It sounded like the best idea we'd heard for some time. 
All girls love a dressing-up box. But a dressing-up box 
full of clothes which would fit someone with tits the 
size of Tanya would be a rarity indeed.
"Yes, please, Gran!" breathed Tanya.
"All right! Now, let's round up these kids and get them 
tucked up for the night."




Chapter 14:- Another Busy Day
"Judy's coming by this way, so she said she'll drop by in 
half an hour." Grandma Trudy looked excited at the 
prospect of Suzanne having her very own private tutor. 
Strangely, in this amazing summer, the sun wasn't 
shining; there was even a hint of rain in the air. The 
girls, nonplussed, seemed to have forgotten that the sun 
didn't shine all the time.
"We can't go out in this weather, Mummy," Pansy 
complained, as if the weather was all my fault.
"Of course you can, darling. It's not winter all of a 
sudden. It's still warm enough to go outside. Go for a 
walk or something."
"We can't," Victoria moaned. "Davie isn't here."
"You don't need Davie to go for a walk. You know your way 
around by now."
Davie hadn't appeared that morning. Clarrie had served 
breakfast, looking fresh and rested. To my relief, she 
wasn't wearing her maid's uniform this morning. I don't 
think I could have stood another performance like last 
night's. Even in her skirt and shirt, Clarrie seemed to 
ooze sex. I watched her coming and going, telling myself 
that she had been screwing young Davie all night long, 
that she had been out of bed collecting the eggs before 
six o'clock, and probably back for another session with 
Davie before breakfast.
Eventually, with a chorus of complaint, the girls and 
Daniel made themselves ready to go out.
"It's hardly worth it now, Suze," said Tanya. "Miss 
Thresher's going to be here in half an hour, and I'd like 
her to meet you. Okay, then, off you go, sweetheart, but 
be back here by ten thirty."
"All right, I've got my watch," said Victoria, 
efficiently. "We'll be back."
And off they went.
>From his bedroom window, Davie watched the kids as they 
set off across the fields, laughing and skipping. Despite 
his gruelling experience of the night, he felt himself 
becoming aroused yet again, and shook his head in 
disbelief at his own prowess.


Judy Thresher didn't look like a schoolteacher. At least, 
not like my image of a schoolteacher. "Call me Judy," she 
said, as soon as we met.  She was about forty-five, I 
suppose, a bit older than Mum. But she looked younger, 
with long, silky, dark red hair swinging around her 
shoulders. Her figure was slim and curvy - by normal 
standards, that is - although any of the women around 
here made her look flat-chested.  She made a little joke 
about it as she met Tanya and me. Grandma Trudy explained 
roughly what we wanted.
"I could certainly handle the work, and Trudy, as you 
say, the money would be handy. But what about Suzanne? 
She's the one that matters here. You say she's not happy 
and she'd being teased at school. Do you know why?"
Tanya looked at me and we both laughed nervously. "See if 
you can guess when you see her. She's due back any minute 
now."
Judy looked at us, glancing down at our breasts. "How old 
did you say Suzanne was?"
"She's eight."
Judy started to say something, then thought better of it.
"We'd hoped to find her a tutor for a couple of years, 
and when she's ten, to see if we can get her into a 
boarding school."
She nodded. "Did you have anywhere in mind?"
"We'd thought of St Catherine's High School for Girls, do 
you know it?"
"St Cat's?" Judy laughed. "Oh yes! I know it. In fact, I 
applied for a post there, but they've just had a fire and 
they don't seem to have sorted themselves out yet. A bit 
... eccentric ... you could call them, but an excellent 
academic record. Always have been excellent, right up 
there at the top of the results league."
"So you'd recommend it, then? We've got some cousins who 
went there.
Twins. They've done well, despite some difficulties at 
the end."
"Difficulties?"
"Yes, they both got pregnant! But they still got A's, and 
they're off to University as soon as the babies have been 
weaned, maybe next year."
"Hmm. Strange about them getting pregnant. Quite a few of 
the girls did, all at the same time. I said they were a 
bit of an eccentric school! One or two other oddities 
about the place, too, although perhaps Suzanne will fit 
in perfectly. We'll see!"
"Yes, we'll see," said Tanya. "Here they come now."
The kids came straggling in through the patio doors. As 
usual, Pansy took the lead. "Mummy, Suzanne didn't fall 
in, today." She sounded genuinely disappointed.
"I'm glad about that, Suze," said Tanya, "this is Miss 
Thresher, I'd like you to meet her."
"Hello, Suzanne," said Judy, gazing at her in amazement.
"Hello, Miss. Are you a teacher?"
"You can tell, can't you!" Judy laughed. "Yes, I'm a 
teacher all right. Of a sort, at least."
"I wish I had a teacher like you," said Victoria, to my 
surprise.
"So do I," said Pansy.
"Here, it was me she wanted to meet, not you lot," 
Suzanne complained, feeling left out.
"It's a pleasure to meet you all, girls!" said Judy. "In 
fact, I'd be delighted to meet you again. All of you!"
"Can we go and change our T-shirts, Mum?" said Victoria, 
hopping up and down. I think she wanted to go to the 
toilet more than anything.
"Come straight back then, and see Miss Thresher before 
she has to go."
And off they went.
Tanya looked at me. "I suppose you're not thinking what 
I'm thinking?"
"As usual, yes!"
Grandma Trudy was there ahead of us. "Is this telepathy, 
you two?  You're thinking about Victoria and Pansy coming 
here as well, aren't you?"
We both nodded. I felt somehow close to tears at the 
thought. Victoria and Pansy away in Herefordshire for two 
years? And Suzanne, too. Yet it would be an ideal 
grounding for the girls before they went to St Cat's. 
Tanya and I were both convinced that the girls would go 
to Cat's, but the idea of them coming here to share a 
tutor was breathtaking. Talk about killing three birds 
with one stone!
"It's a great idea," said Judy, "provided the girls are 
happy with it.  Three's a small enough class, after all, 
even if they are different ages."
Grandma Trudy beamed in delight. "I'm sure it will work. 
Even if we have to make arrangements to transport girls 
or mothers around the countryside every couple of weeks, 
we can make it work."
"Let's ask the ones who really matter, shall we?," said 
Tanya, a little shakily. She wiped her eyes with her 
hanky. So did I.


"There'll be a few things we need to work out," I said to 
Grandma Trudy.
"I know, honey, and we won't rush into this until 
everything is properly sorted out. I think I know what 
you're going to say. Let me guess! How about ... Davie?"
"Got it in one," Tanya laughed. "I suppose I shouldn't 
laugh, it could be deadly serious, but I can't help it 
whenever I think of Davie being a horny little stud who's 
out to ravish our daughters. Poor little wimp, he is, I 
reckon Clarrie is wearing him out."
"You're right, honey. He'll need watching if the girls 
are going to be here all the time. And we know, if 
Clarrie's his type of girl, young Davie likes his women 
with big ones! And your three certainly have big ones!"
"What about Sir Roger, Gran?" I asked.
"That's different. I think Sir Roger is going to have to 
do as he's told for a change! Seriously, when he comes 
back and finds your kids in residence, it will be too 
late to do anything about it. But I think, knowing my 
Roger, that he will be the proudest great granddaddy of 
them all. Especially when he sets eyes on those three 
little beauties. Don't get me wrong. He screws Clarrie, 
sure - and he does it rather well, unless my ears deceive 
me - but it would never occur to him to try anything with 
your girls. Trust me on this one."
"Do you think we're doing the right thing, Tan?" I said.
"I think so, they'll get better schooling in two years 
with Judy than they would if they stayed where they are 
now until they were twenty-five!"
"Right. I just wanted to hear you say it. Perhaps we 
ought to speak with St Cat's before we go any further. It 
would be terrible if the girls set their hearts on going 
there and then found they couldn't get in."
"Feel free to use the phone," said Grandma Trudy. "And 
after that, we're off to the spare room. We have an 
appointment with some old clothes."


We certainly did. Within five minutes of opening the 
first box, we had Grandma Trudy's mother-in-law's clothes 
spread all over the floor.
"I certainly see what you mean," I said. "She was 
gigantic, wasn't she!" We all nearly collapsed laughing 
as Tanya struggled her way into an evening dress. It was 
a bit loose around the waist and hips, but almost a 
perfect fit around the top.
"There you are, then, Sis, the old girl had a ninety-inch 
bust all right. And not all that much bigger than me down 
below, either."
We rummaged some more. "Here's a bra!" I shouted, holding 
it up. It was a vast thing, with cups bigger than buckets 
and about twenty hooks at the back.
Tanya whooped for joy. "Here, help me into it!" she 
cried, climbing out of the dress and holding out her 
arms. We got her all tucked up inside the thing.
"How's it feel?" I asked her.
"Great! It's a bit stiff, the material. And the shoulder 
straps need adjusting, but it doesn't half support my 
knockers! It ought to, of course, it weighs a ton and a 
half."
"Well, so do your knockers, Tanya dear."
We played for an hour, the three of us, like schoolkids. 
When we came downstairs, we proudly carried a selection 
of trophies with us. Tanya had her enormous bra. I had 
found a lovely silk blouse, not too big for me, and 
Grandma Trudy carried a portrait painting of her mother-
in-law which showed her in all her considerable glory.
"Roger's tried to describe this painting to me so often. 
What a slice of luck finding it in the bottom of that 
last box. Well, it's having pride of place in the sitting 
room, over the mantelpiece. I'll hang it there tonight!"
At last, we all relaxed, ready for our tea.
"I don't know what Mum's going to think when she gets 
back," I said, "an awful lot seems to have happened, 
especially today."


Again, we didn't see everything that happened. While the 
three of us were trying on Great Grandmother Pym's 
finery, who should be passing the door of the spare room 
but Davie. He got an eyeful of Tanya, naked apart from 
her pants, while Grandma Trudy and I heaved and strained 
at the laces of a pretty serious-looking corset, seeing 
how small we could get Tanya's waist. I can't tell you 
how well we succeeded, she asked me not to reveal it!
Davie is into corsets, we now know. How long he watched 
is anyone's guess. But eventually he slunk away to his 
room, where he was interrupted ten minutes later by 
Clarrie.
"I've been looking for you, you randy little sod, and 
you've been in here, wanking yourself to a frazzle. Come 
on, get your hand out of the way and let a girl have a 
seat!"
No peace for the wicked, Davie found, yet again.


"What do you think of the idea, 'Toria?" said Suzanne.
"It's great. I can't believe Mummy's letting us do it. 
Just think, two years without going to school!"
Pansy wasn't so sure. "We'll miss Mummy a little bit, 
though, won't we?"
"Course we will. But just think." Suzanne's voice became 
dreamy. "No school, no nasty, rotten kids teasing and 
shouting after us down the street and on the bus. And 
...!"
"And ...?" said Victoria.
"And Davie. Every day!"
Pansy bit her lip and blushed. "Oh, Zanne! Are you 
thinking what I think you're thinking?"
"I don't know," said Suzanne simply. "How do I know what 
you think I'm thinking?"
"You're thinking about sucking his thingie again, aren't 
you? And sitting on his face!" whispered Pansy, crimson 
faced with shame.
"I might be," said Suzanne. "It felt nicer than I thought 
it would.  Not sucking his willie. That was just tasty, 
like food. No, sitting on his face felt nice. In fact, it 
felt quite funny. But a nice funny, if you know what I 
mean."
"I think *I* know what you mean," said Victoria. "You 
mean it felt like *that*!"
"Like what?" Pansy wanted to know.
"You mean, like when you touch yourself down there?" 
Suzanne asked, her eyes bright.
"Yes!" said Victoria, quietly.
"Down *where*?" Pansy almost shouted.
"Don't tell her, Suze!" Victoria said. "She's not old 
enough to know that sort of thing."
"But I'm three months older than her!" Pansy wailed.
"You know what I mean" growled Victoria with menace.
Suzanne knew what Victoria meant.




Chapter 15:- 
"You mean, they won't be coming home with us when we go," 
said Mum.
"No, they'll come home until the end of the school 
holidays, and then they'll come back here in time for the 
start of the new term. We'll have them at home for a 
couple of weeks before they go."
She looked doubtful. "What about the arrangements? You'll 
have to tell the council authorities, and everybody. You 
can't just take children out of school at a moment's 
notice."
"All done, Mum," said Tanya. Been there, done it. I've 
spoken to the school, and the authorities. They wanted to 
know Judy's details, but it's all in order. It'll be 
fine, Mum!"
"What about Victoria, she's older than the other two."
"Judy says it's not a problem. With only the three of 
them, they'll all have individual tuition all day long. 
It will be great for them."
Mum sighed heavily. "I suppose so. I just hope you 
haven't forgotten anything that will get you slung in 
jail. What does your Paul think about it?"
"I spoke to him. He backs me up; whatever I do is right 
by him."
Tanya spoke up. "Mum, you haven't even *asked* what the 
girls think about it?"
"What do they know, at their age?"
"Oh, Mother, they know a lot more than you think!"


What a summer that was. I suppose it must have rained at 
least once, but I can't actually remember it ever 
happening. The kids played by the pool every day, it 
seemed, and went for walks, and fishing, sometimes with 
Davie and Clarrie, sometimes all on their own. And they 
ate as if cream cakes were going out of fashion.
Fortunately, they stopped piling on the extra pounds. 
They seemed to reach a fighting weight and stay there, 
despite how much they stuffed themselves with food. Which 
was certainly a relief. But all good things come to an 
end, and it was getting closer to the time we would have 
to go home.
"You're all right," I told Victoria, when she tearfully 
complained.
"You're coming back here in a couple of weeks!"
"But you won't be here. It will be just like going to 
school."
I knew what she meant, but she'd soon get used to it. So 
would Pansy.  But all four kids cried their eyes out when 
we finally piled into the car ready to leave. The 
household had lined up to say goodbye.
Grandma Trudy kissed Tanya and me, and hugged Mum.
"Once Roger's heard all about you coming to see me, he 
won't be able to resist it any longer, especially when 
hears about the kids. He'll invite you back down here 
like a shot, you'll see."
Maisie held Davie's shoulder, but he wriggled free and 
came over to the car. He held a formal hand out to 
Victoria, but she flung her arms around his neck and 
hugged him.
"We'll see you soon, Davie, we're back here in a 
fortnight!"
"I'll still miss you. All of you," he said, turning to 
Suzanne and receiving a hug from her, too. Pansy waited 
patiently for her turn, then throwing her arms around the 
boy's neck, she planted a not very expert but obviously 
sincere kiss on his mouth. Davie responded nobly, 
crushing Pansy against him in a determined way until the 
other two girls dragged them apart.
"That's enough, Pan!" shouted Victoria. And Clarrie came 
forward to pull Davie away.
"Bye, girls," she said. "I'll miss you, too, but I'll 
look after Davie for you 'til you get back!"
Yes, I thought, she probably would.
We drove away, leaving the big house bathed in sunshine. 
The four figures waved, and started on their way back 
indoors. I wondered what they would be getting up to. The 
place would certainly be a lot emptier without us lot.
"Davie's nice, isn't he!" said Pansy.
For the rest of the journey, bursts of giggling kept 
breaking out from the back seats.


The next two weeks were all taken up with packing and 
getting the girls ready to move out. It seemed horribly 
final. We had to be fairly strict about what they were 
taking with them.
"It's no good taking all those old bras and bikinis with 
you, Pansy.
They're never going to fit you again now."
"But Mummy, they're my favourite ones. I might get 
slimmer and they'll fit me again. If I don't eat too 
much, of course."
Of course.
In the end, we pruned their baggage down to one huge 
suitcase each.  "Clarrie has to wash and iron all this 
stuff, remember. You've got to leave the poor girl some 
free time."
"Oh, that's all right," Victoria said airily. "Nana Trudy 
can get another maid to help."
"Then Clarrie will have more time for Davie," Pansy 
added, considerately.
"I suppose so," I agreed.
And off we went. A clean break, we'd decided. Tanya had 
wanted to stay for a few days, but we talked about it and 
decided to go down on the Monday morning, leave the girls 
and come straight home.
"It will be the best way," I tried to persuade her. "If 
we don't just turn round and leave straight away, we'll 
never summon up the nerve to do it."
And that was the way it was, although the girls were 
howling miserably as Judy led them indoors, Clarrie had 
her hankie to her eyes, and Tanya and I were blubbing on 
and off all the way home.
"Whose stupid idea was this?" wailed Tanya as we turned 
into our parents' drive.


Meanwhile, back at the big house, the tears were dried. 
The girls unpacked and settled into their old rooms. They 
went with Judy and saw the school-room, a spare drawing-
room at the back of the house. The window looked out on 
to open fields and the distant Welsh hills.
"If I catch any of you staring out of the window," said 
Judy sternly, "I will know I'm not doing my job properly, 
and then you'll be for it!  So be warned."
"Yes, Miss," the girls chorused in subdued voices.
"Right, I'm off home. School tomorrow at nine sharp. A 
good night's sleep, all of you. I'll bring your books and 
everything in the morning."


"Sir Roger will be home tonight," said Trudy as soon as 
the girls came out of the schoolroom. "I just heard, he's 
at the airport."
"Will he be pleased to see us?" Victoria asked.
"He'll get a shock!" said Suzanne.
"More of a pleasant surprise," said Trudy. "But I managed 
to warn him we've got some young visitors. I didn't tell 
him any more than that.  Now, one of you, Pansy. Can you 
run upstairs and tell Clarrie she's wanted in the 
kitchen. Tell her Sir Roger's coming home tonight, 
that'll make her move herself."
"All right, Nana," said Pansy and sped off.
"You two, come and lay the table. One or two little 
chores every day, that's all you'll have to do. It will 
save Sir Roger having to take on an extra maid! Although 
I'm sure he wouldn't object," she said to herself.
Pansy clattered up the back stairs and along the landing. 
She banged on Clarrie's bedroom door. No reply. She 
opened it, and looked round.  Clarrie wasn't there. Back 
out in the corridor, she listened. Was that a noise from 
Davie's room? She found herself tiptoeing toward the 
boy's room, and paused outside, her fist raised to knock. 
The door was open an inch or two, and there was 
definitely someone in there. She could hear voices, no 
words, more like grunts and groans.
Quietly, she pushed the door open and peered inside, then 
gasped in horror. Clarrie was facing away from her, in 
the direction of the window. The big serving girl was 
sitting on what Pansy could only assume was Davie, on the 
bed. Not on his face, she saw with some relief. Clarrie 
was bouncing vigorously up and down, with urgent little 
cries. Whatever it was that was going on, Pansy found it 
strangely exciting. She felt a funny tickly feeling, as 
if she needed a pee. But she knew she ought not to be 
found watching the couple. She backed out of the room, 
retreated a few yeards down the corridor and shouted, 
"Clarrie! Clarrie! You up here?"
The noises stopped. There was a pregnant pause. Pansy 
called again.
This time, Clarrie poked her head round Davie's door. She 
looked flushed and tousled. "Pansy!" she said in 
surprise. "Did you call?"
"Yes. Nana says you're wanted in the kitchen straight 
away. Sir Roger's home."
"Sir ROGER!" Clarrie burst from the room, forgetting she 
was stark naked. "Where, here?"
"No, at the airport. But he's coming home tonight."
"Oh, whoopee!" the maid shouted, to Pansy's surprise. She 
planted a kiss on Pansy's lips - it tasted of kippers, 
the realised - and bounced into her own room. Pansy 
shrugged, and went downstairs.
"She's just coming, Nana," she said.
"I was worried about that," said Trudy, and went back to 
rummaging through the store cupboard.


The girls weren't quite in bed when Sir Roger's cab 
arrived, but they were in their rooms. Clarrie was 
fussing around them, making sure they were all ready for 
bed. The maid seemed flushed and excited, her nipples 
were sticking out through her blouse despite the 
restraint of her heavy duty bra. Her lips were wet and 
her eyes strangely bright.
There was the sound of a car in the drive, and Maisie 
opening the front door. Clarrie dashed out of the room 
and left Suzanne and Pansy sitting on their beds in their 
nightdresses, which were extra large T-shirts.
"She's in a hurry!" said Suzanne, getting up and going 
over to the window. "Oooh, look! He's here!"
Pansy hurried across to join her. "Golly! Is that him. Is 
that a Sir?"
"No, that's the taxi driver. There's Sir Roger, there, 
getting out of the back seat."
"He looks ordinary." Pansy sounded disappointed. I 
thought he'd be wearing a crown or something.
"No, he's only a knight."
"Well, armour, then. Knights wear armour."
"Not all the time," said Suzanne. "They don't wear armour 
on airplanes. It would be too hot."
"Well, when *do* they wear it. Maybe he puts it on when 
he gets indoors."
"Nana Trudy must help him. It must be hard work getting 
undressed for bed," Suzanne mused as she sat on her bed 
again. "Must be ever so heavy to put on a coat hanger."
"They have extra strong coat hangers," said Pansy, 
confidently. "We did knights in armour at school."
"So did we! Hey, I wonder if he'll come and see us when 
he's dressed!"
"We'd better get into bed. We'll hear him coming up the 
stairs. He'll clank!"
So when Clarrie came back into the room, the girls were 
tucked up in bed, quivering with excitement. She kissed 
them on their noses and left with almost indecent haste.


"We've got some guests, Roger." Trudy said at last, when 
Clarrie had clopped out of the room on her high heels, 
her hips swaying dangerously. Roger watched her go with 
raw hunger in his eyes.
"Yes, you mentioned that. What's it all about?" He kept 
looking out for Clarrie to come back, but the maid was 
obviously allowing the tension to build up. In fact, at 
that moment, Clarrie was doing exactly the opposite. She 
was bringing herself off in the scullery, pressing her 
crotch against the washing machine as it went into its 
fast spin cycle.
"You remember I told you, a long time ago, about your 
little great granddaughters? May's daughters' little 
girls?"
Sir Roger's expression became more severe at the mention 
of his wayward daughter's name.
"We don't talk about that any more," he said stiffly.
"May's daughters dropped by while you were away," Trudy 
went on, doggedly. "And they had the girls with them. 
They're quite grown-up now."
A flicker of interest crossed Sir Roger's face. Then he 
seemed to do a little mental arithmetic. "Grown-up, they 
can't be more than four or five, woman!"
"Erm, the girls started their families quite young. The 
kids are eight and ten now."
"Thought you said they were grown-up." His eyes wandered 
off again.
Where is that Clarrie?
"They are, honey." She stood up suddenly and went to the 
mantelpiece.
"Look, your mother's portrait."
"Where did you find that? I'd looked everywhere."
"Not in the last box in the spare room. It was right at 
the bottom.
But look at her, Roger. Tanya is the spit'n image of your 
mother."
"Tanya?" he said, perking up once more.
"May's younger daughter. And Tanya's little girl takes 
after *her* mother."
"She does? And she's here?"
"They're all here. Three of them. Judy Thresher's going 
to teach them
their lessons in the back drawing room. They're here for 
two years
..."

"Hey, hang on! Wait a minute! Wait ... a ... minute!" 
Trudy waited.
"Two years? What's wrong with their own school. Judy 
Thresher? Here?
Oh, Trudy, this is ridiculous!"
"Oh, Roger, I only did it for you!" Trudy sat next to him 
on the couch. "I thought, Roger would like to have some 
really big-busted young girls about the place for a 
couple years. Just to look at, mind you, they're only 
eight and ten! No funny business! Not with his own great 
granddaughters. Just something to cool off Sir Roger's 
knightly ardour. I mean, Clarrie won't last for ever if 
you're going to keep fucking her every night! Or is that 
what 'knightly' means in your case?"
"Clarrie? Me? You mean ...?"
You mean, do I know?" Trudy laughed at the expression on 
her husband's face. "How could I not know? But it's all 
right. I knew what you were like before I married you. 
And I knew what Clarrie was like before you employed her. 
She's a sweet child. A bit of a raving nympho, but a 
sweet child."
"But...!"
"I'm not going to stop you and Clarrie making love, or 
whatever it is you do. And meanwhile, your great 
granddaughters are going to school here for the next two 
years. Simple!" 
The door opened, and Clarrie came in with the coffee. 
"Sorry I took so long'm" she said with a little bob. "I 
got side-tracked in the scullery. A little trouble with 
the washing machine."
"All better now, Clarrie," Trudy asked with a knowing 
grin.
"Ooooh, yes'm! Much better now!"
"I'm so glad to hear it, my dear. Now, are the girls 
asleep?"
"They were in bed'm, a while ago. Nearly asleep, I 
shouldn't wonder."
"Sir Roger would like to see them. Down here, darling, or 
in their rooms?"
"Er, ah, um, in their rooms, I suppose."
"Well, then, let's go. What are we waiting for? Clarrie! 
Lead the way."
"Two minutes'm. I'll just make sure they're awake.!


Clarrie had brought a sleepy Victoria into the younger 
girls' room.  The three of them stood blinking at the 
light in a row by the dressing table. Clarrie checked 
them over, brushing their hair out of their eyes, tugging 
at their nightdresses.
"Right, here he comes now," she hissed.
"I can't hear him clanking," said Pansy, drowsily.
"Perhaps he's been oiled," Suzanne said, giving her a 
nudge. Victoria stared at the youngsters. What were they 
on about this time?
The bedroom door opened. Nana Trudy stood there beaming.
"Girls. Allow me to introduce your great grandfather, Sir 
Roger Pym.
Roger, meet Victoria, Pansy, and Suzanne."
They stood and stared at each other, open-mouthed.
The girls were thinking Sir Roger wasn't as great as all 
that. Their grandad was bigger than him. And come to 
that, what about the armour, then? Swizz!
And Sir Roger was thinking he had never seen three such 
enormously-developed kids in his life.
"Trudy, you're right, as usual. These three are most 
welcome. I hope they have a happy two years' schooling. 
And I think it's time we organised a bit of a grand 
family reunion. After all, we do seem to have a bit of a 
grand family!"
Trudy hugged him, and Clarrie beamed in the background.
"It's all right girls," Sir Roger said, "What's more, I 
think your mothers ought to visit you as often as 
possible. And maybe your grandmother, too." And as the 
three little girls giggled and nudged each other, he took 
Trudy in his arms and hugged her tight. She grinned at 
them over his shoulder.
Clarrie sighed.
"Yes, I think that *will* be all for tonight, Clarrie," 
said Trudy.  "Off you go, and have a good night's sleep!" 
She beckoned the buxom serving wench to come closer. 
"Make the most of it. It might be the last good night's 
sleep you get for some time," she whispered with a sly 
wink.
"I'll do my best, ma'am!"




THE END
