RETURN OF THE GOLDEN GOOSE

by Some Sort of Dog
 
 
 
 
 

Chapter 1:- Donna And Lynda Meet Again


 
 
  "I'll be lonely, Mum!" Donna pouted, only half seriously. "Who's going to cook for me?"
Laura peered at her daughter over her glasses. "You can cook perfectly well for yourself, girl. And you don't have to get up in the mornings for school. You'll probably be in bed until two in the afternoons."
"But two weeks! It's ages. I'll waste away in two weeks. You'll come home and find a skeleton. Then you'll be sorry."
"I'll take that risk," said Laura. "I can't imagine you going without your food for more than a couple of hours. Anyway, a bit of independence is good for a girl. I know what I'd have been thinking if my mum had told me she was going away for a fortnight. And before you even think of it, don't even think of it! No wild parties every night."
Donna grinned. "Okay, Mummy, not every night! Just now and again?"
Laura sat down and stirred her coffee mug with a sigh. "Even with Rachel here," she rubbed the dog's ears and Rachel plonked her big pointed face on her thigh, "it would be better if you weren't completely on your own at nights." Donna opened her mouth to say something, but Laura hurried on. "How about having a friend to stay? A girlfriend, of course."
Donna thought of all her school friends with deepening gloom.
Laura laughed at her daughter's expression. "I thought so. They're a drippy lot, aren't they! I was thinking. How about young Lynda? You haven't seen her since last Summer."
"Lynda? But she's only ..."
"Fifteen, now. But that wasn't a problem last year. You said yourself she was much older than her real age."
"But it's nearly a year. I've changed plenty since then. We might not hit it off at all now. Still ..."
"Still, as you say. No harm in calling her, is there? You had fun last year, didn't you?"
"Yeah!" It had been a memorable long weekend down at Swanage. Donna had learned quite a lot about herself in those few short days. And nights. Don't forget the nights. She grinned to herself. "I don't know what evil thoughts you are thinking, dear daughter, but I'm sure they are impure." She held up a hand. "And I'd rather you didn't tell me. Give Lynda a call. It won't do any harm. And if it doesn't work out, we've got a whole week to think of something else."
Donna heaved herself out of the settee and lumbered over to her mother's chair. Holding her breasts out of the way with one arm, she bent and kissed her cheek. "I'll call her now," she said softly.
 
 
 
"How did she sound?" Laura stirred the casserole and carefully dropped eight dumplings on top of the bubbling stew.
"There'll be enough there for a week," Donna commented, as her mother replaced the lid and put the pot back into the oven.
"You never know," she said. "Anyone might drop in, and we would need to be able to offer them dinner.
"Who are you expecting? The Second Battalion of the Parachute Regiment? Anyway, Lynda sounded just the same as if it had been only last week we saw each other. Not like we hadn't spoken for nearly a year. A bit quieter, perhaps: more grown-up. Subdued, maybe."
"Is she coming?"
"She didn't know. She said she'd have to ask her Mum. She wanted to. She said it's horrible where she is. But I couldn't get a yes or no out of her. She's going to call back in an hour, she said. We might never hear from her again."
"Maybe. Poor kid." Laura wiped her hands on a towel and hugged Donna's waist. The girl felt so tiny, apart from her bust. She was like a miniature doll, but with giant breasts. There was nothing fragile about her: carrying such a vast load had made the muscles of her back unusually strong, as well as those of her thighs and legs. "It was a shame, her getting mixed up with that other magazine. But there you go. When you're fourteen, the thought of having to wait another four years seems like for ever."
"Another nine months sounds long enough to me!" Donna took out the knives and forks and began laying the scrubbed kitchen table. Just the two places, as usual.
"The money will be handy," Laura said. "Although we're making far more from your growth clause than I ever imagined when Maggie first came round. That was the best bit of business I ever did! We've earned enough in these last fifteen months to keep that car running. I won't be needing it, by the way. When I'm at your Gran's. You can have the car. Just be careful, love."
"Oh, Mum!" Donna had tears in her eyes as she hugged her mother.
"Mind you don't squash your boobies, love! Those things are worth an extra two hundred quid a month, at today's figures, and it's still going up! The car's near enough yours by now anyway. Go on, then. Time to get the veggies on the stove. I'll feed this poor starving dog.
 
 
  Maggie examined herself critically in the washroom mirror. She tried several different angles before deciding on one that made her look least unprepossessing. Too angular, her nose too big, her chin not well enough defined. The glasses improved matters. She wore spectacles with huge lenses which magnified her eyes. Her best feature, she thought. Apart from these things. She cupped her full breasts. Still getting bigger! Thank God for Mrs Danby. It had been strange, the way they'd grown so much since she had first become involved with the four vast breasted HUMUNGOUS! models and the little bra maker. In fact — Maggie took a deep breath and turned slightly to one side — she was easily HUMUNGOUS! material now, if you could ignore her other looks.
The doctor had said it was nothing to worry about, and had prescribed a different brand of birth control pill. It didn't seem really to have worked. If anything, she was growing even faster.
She let go her breath and watched her bust deflate a couple of inches as the door opened and Maggie hastily pretended to be arranging her hair.
"There you are." Wilma appeared at her shoulder and they looked at each other in the mirror. "I was looking for you everywhere. Nothing urgent. Just chasing the last of the shots for Charlotte's breast- feeding spread in the September issue. If you're passing Duncan's place, would you mind?" Wilma stared at Maggie. "You okay? You're looking unhappy."
"No, it's nothing." Maggie turned and looked directly at her Editor. "I was going to drop in on Duncan on the way home tonight."
"You might as well slip away now, then. You might miss some of the traffic."
Wilma returned to her desk, picked up the phone and put her feet up on the desk. Not very ladylike, but there was no one to see. Time to call BJ to discuss the latest circulation figures.
 
 
  "Duncan's gone home. So has Debbie. I was just going into the finishing room to trim the last of the Charlotte prints." Geoff looked nervously at Maggie as he moved anxiously about the studio, tidying up the lighting stands, tearing off the grubby end of the roll of background paper.
"Stop hopping around, Geoffrey, for God's sake. I'm not going to eat you." Although I might be tempted, she thought.
"Come in and wait while I do the trimming, then." Geoff led the way through into the darkroom area. "The online trimmer's busted, I've got to do this whole roll by hand." He perched himself on a stool and pulled the end of the roll towards him. Maggie watched as he worked neatly and efficiently, stacking the prints to his left. She resisted the temptation to take prints off the pile to study them, choosing to watch Geoff instead.
"Been busy?" she asked, knowing that things had obviously been fairly quiet if Duncan and Debbie had gone home early.
Geoff continued to work steadily, not looking at Maggie. "It's been busy, but it went quiet today. Duncan went off at ten this morning to see his boyfriend. Debs went out with the receptionist at lunchtime and didn't come back. She called and said she was going to be tied up for the rest of the day. I can get on better without them. Managed to clear up quite a lot of work."
He'd grown up this past year, thought Maggie. Duncan had been an angel, paying off Geoff's debts and getting rid of Hilton Paark once and for all. Working all hours, Geoff had paid everything back to Duncan over the next six months. Even so, he still seemed nervous around Maggie, understandably enough.
"I didn't see your car outside. Did you come in on the train?"
Geoff nodded. "Clutch is buggered. I can't do anything about it until the weekend. I miss it. You don't realise how much you miss your car, even in London, until you haven't got it." He trimmed the last print and placed it on the stack, then swept the pile of trimmed scraps of paper into the bin. "All done." He sounded satisfied.
"Can I give you a lift anywhere, love? I'm in no rush to get back home." Maggie took the pile of prints and skimmed through them. Charlotte's impossibly staggering breasts loomed out from every one in a bewildering variety of poses, dressed, half dressed and totally nude. Half of the pictures showed Charlotte feeding her twins. As usual, Maggie felt herself melting. No good melting, Mags, she told herself, Charlotte's still going to be away for another whole week.
Geoff looked at her in surprise. Something like a spark of electricity seemed to flash between them. "Well, thanks. Yes please, if it's not out of your way."
It was, but Maggie wasn't about to complain. She had another suggestion. An idea had formed in her brain, and once formed, it had become quite an interesting resolution. It was long overdue, but it was time to make friends with Geoff again. Not really again, but to make friends with him for the first time. Very good friends.
"Any time you're ready, love," she grinned.
Geoff blushed. He actually blushed.
 
 
  "She said yes!" Donna was practically hopping up and down in her excitement. "She asked when can she come. I said Friday night. Is that okay?"
"No reason why not," Laura said. I'm going on Friday morning. Tell you what, if you wanted to drive me up to Gran's in the morning, you can be back here in plenty of time to pick up Lynda from the station when she arrives. You don't want me hanging around cramping your style. I'd like to see her again, though. Maybe when I get back?"
"Sure. She's still be here."
Laura studied the wall calendar and bit her lip suddenly. "Don't forget, you've got Mrs Danby this Saturday morning."
"This Saturday coming? Shit. I thought it was next week."
"She's coming a week early, you remember? Something about her holidays. You're lucky she does house-calls now. Better than trailing down to her place every month for your new bra! How is that one, anyway?"
"Tight! I've been growing faster these last couple of months. It doesn't show too much, but I feel really full. And when I get undressed for bed, it's all I can do just to stand up. It's mostly since March, remember, I put on three inches in a month? It's not quite as bad as that now, but I think those days of only growing an inch a month are gone. Still, think of the money, mother, dear!"
Laura hugged her daughter, and felt the taut swell of her breasts beneath the extravagantly-cut work shirt. "Sorry, darling. I know how it is for you. But without Cunis and his money, we'd be starving by now. Once you're twenty-one, it will be your decision, if you want a reduction or whatever you want."
"Twenty-one? Have you any idea how big I'll be by then, if I only carry on growing at an inch a month? Never mind if I carry on at my present rate! I'll need more than Mrs Danby and her bras if that's the case. I'll need a pair of wheels for them! Any more of that dinner left?"
 
 
  "No, you should have turned up there. This is the wrong way." Geoff looked back over his shoulder to see his route home disappearing behind him.
"Plenty of time. I thought you'd like to come home to my place and have a drink. We haven't had a talk for ages."
"We haven't had a talk ever," Geoff muttered. "Talk? What about?"
"Nothing. Just this and that. Don't worry, boy!"
"I'm not worried." He sank back in his seat. Another left turn flashed by. "We could have taken that one," he said. "It brings you out by the end of the industrial estate. Only a couple of miles from my place."
Maggie turned right instead, and accelerated hard up a quiet residential road. Geoff looked at her out of the corner of his eye as she came to the end of a line of traffic, immediately shot through a narrow gap on the inside without slowing, then placed her hand flat on the wheel and spun it on to full left lock to dart down a narrow alleyway. The boom of the exhaust echoed back at them through the open windows.
"Hey, this goes all right," said Geoff admiringly. "Is it the 2- litre?"
"Two-point-three," Maggie corrected him, as they surged ahead of the built-up line of cars. She sat back, perfectly relaxed at the wheel, her breasts jiggling slightly on each side of her seatbelt. They had reached an open stretch of road, and were swishing along without fuss at sixty miles an hour. Without flashiness, noise and gear-changing, Maggie was driving far more quickly and smoothly than Geoff ever did. He found it fascinating and exciting. Arousing, even. Watching Maggie was making him get hard.
She flashed her headlights, waved cheerfully to two taxis which squealed to a halt in cursing confusion, then arrowed through a gap no wider than a bicycle, slid sweetly into a side turning and headed up a street with cars parked all down one side. A gap was coming up between the cars and a garbage truck. One of the dustmen waved Maggie through and stood back out of the way. Automatically, Geoff found himself pushing his right foot down on a non-existent brake pedal.
The car sliced nimbly through the gap. "There's no brake on your side, dear," she said without even glancing in his direction.
Geoff was devastated. Maggie drove like a man. Better than most. Better, in act, than anyone Geoff had ever seen. And so much faster. He looked anxiously over his shoulder.
"Nobody's following us, it's all right!" Maggie laughed. "Soon be home."
They were. In three more minutes, Maggie braked to a halt opposite a parking space, reversed briskly into the gap and got out. By the time Geoff had climbed out as well, she was leaning on the roof of the car, laughing at him. "What's up? You weren't scared, were you?"
"Me? No!" Geoff looked down at his feet. The car was an inch from the curb, perfectly parked, wheels straight ahead. A wave of heat came from the engine compartment. The door locks whirred.
"I'll let you have a drive one day. Out in the country, maybe." Maggie took Geoff's arm. "This way. In case you were wondering why all the rush, I need a piss!"
 
 
  The settee was deep and soft and leathery. Geoff was right at one end, squished into the corner of the seat, leaning on the arm. His glass was empty, but he still held it in his hand. Maggie sat with her feet curled beneath her, regarding him with amusement on her face.
"And you didn't sleep with her? Not at all?" Geoff shook his head. He was glad it was dark in Maggie's front room. The music swelled in a surge of violins as Maggie leaned forward.
"Didn't you want to? Lynda's a very pretty girl."
"Yes. A bit. No. Not all the time, anyway. She came on to me and rubbed her ... her tits against me, and I wanted to, but then sometimes, I just felt nothing at all, even when she was really close, like in the car."
Maggie reached out and plucked an imaginary thread from Geoff's shoulder. He shrank back. She sat back again, unthreateningly.
"You haven't got a girlfriend at the moment?"
"I never have any spare time," Geoff answered quickly.
"Until now. You're free now, aren't you? Tonight?"
"Yeah. We finished early today. We've been well busy until now."
"A bit of luck, then. Lucky I happened to drop in." She picked up the cold bottle and poured a long glugging drink into Geoff's glass. He looked at it for a moment, then took a deep swig. "You're thirsty," she said matter-of-factly.
"I'm a bit dry," he said.
"I'm not," sighed Maggie dreamily, but said nothing more. What did she mean? She poured some more wine into his glass.
"She had a nice pair of tits, didn't she?" she said out of the blue.
"Lynda? Yeah. Really big." He felt his cheeks burning. Maggie was wearing a loose check-pattern shirt and a pair of black stretchy pants. Was it the wine, or did Maggie seem to fill her shirt and pants extremely well? It wasn't the wine, he decided. She did fill them very well indeed. Especially the top. Strange how he had never really noticed how big she was before. She shifted her position, tucking her feet under her again. Something was apparently not comfortable, as she had to reach between her legs and make an adjustment to her pants. Geoff looked away hurriedly. Strange, again, he had never thought of Maggie in this way before. It had started in the print finishing room, where he had been aware of her warmth standing close to him without touching. She had offered him a lift home. Her home, not his. And the way she drove! Now, here she was, sharing a settee with him, only arms' length away, topping up his glass again. And sitting like that, her bottom was lovely and soft and rounded and feminine, and her breasts were really far bigger than any he had seen this close since Lynda. Kay's and Charlotte's didn't count, of course. This was different.
It certainly was different. Geoff was getting a raging hard-on. He moved his hand down to his thigh to hide it. Maggie took it as an invitation to fill his glass again. Then she put the bottle down, reaching out to the coffee table. When she sat back on the settee, she was the other way round, and much closer. She took his glass from him and leaned against him. She would see it throbbing if he wasn't careful! He had to shift his leg...
Too late! Unbelievably, Maggie was climbing astride him, looking up into his face. Her knees were bent so her feet were tucked up alongside Geoff's legs, but her thighs were spread wide, dangerously close to his groin. Fortunately, she wasn't looking at him down there.
"Whoops! I nearly slipped off. Hold me."
He hadn't felt her slipping at all, but he reached behind her and held her buttocks. The black pants were stretchy jersey material, and her bottom was unimaginably soft. Even though he held her as gently as he could, his fingers sank into the warm flesh. She wriggled closer, and to Geoff's horror, she was now perched right on top of his crotch. She would feel it, surely!
Maggie leaned forward, her eyes huge behind her glasses. Her lips, pressed lightly against his, were so soft and moist. Soft, soft Maggie, who drove like a racing driver. That did it! His erection, which had been scared into submission by the woman's brazenness, suddenly asserted itself. Geoff almost felt as if he had slipped right into her! He waited for her angry reaction.
She leaned closer, her lips parting. Her breasts, big, big breasts, flattened themselves against his chest. How could they be so soft? Was she wearing a bra? Geoff allowed one hand to stray up her back, feeling her understated strength through the cotton shirt, feeling the broad band of a serious bra.
Maggie tensed briefly and sat back very slightly, her weight transferring itself to her bottom, trapping his erection in the steaming hot cleft of her bum. She regarded him with narrowed eyes.
"I think we'd have a bit more room in bed, don't you?" she said quietly. She licked her lips. "Carry me there, Geoff."
 
 
  Things hadn't been entirely satisfactory. Maggie had Geoff's shirt off before they had reached the bedroom and he had lowered her to the floor. She had his jeans off ten seconds later, and followed that by peeling off her slacks and panties and her shirt. To Geoff, it was the fastest strip of all time. He stood, bewildered, throbbing in his shorts, as Maggie reached, grimacing, behind her to release her bra clasps. The cups were made of a cream-tinted material that moulded itself to Maggie's breasts, not lacy like Lynda's, not industrial strength like some of the biggest models he had seen. It was the most feminine bra he had ever seen.
It never occurred to Geoff to wonder what a masculine bra might look like.
Whatever sex it was, it was overflowing. Maggie was too big for the cups, bulging over the tops and around the sides. When it came off, the sore red marks showed how tight it had been. He had held her close, crushing the huge pillowy mounds to his chest, and Maggie had spread herself on the bed, the widest bed Geoff had ever seen, and parted her thighs to offer him her completely hairless shaved sex.
Desperately, he had butted away against her, trying to get in, like a dog pushing a door open with its nose. "Wait a second, love, let me put this on for you," she had insisted, and he had felt her fingers on him, those fingers that twirled the wheel and flicked the gearshift and ... ooh ... ooh ... NO!"
 
 
  Maggie had been wonderfully understanding. She hadn't got mad at him. She hadn't laughed. A towel appeared from somewhere, a warm dry towel to wipe up the mess. Then she had eased him on to his back and he felt her hair trail across his loins, her nipples danging on his stomach, her warm sex above his face. As her mouth enveloped him, a pearly droplet of juice formed and quivered, about to fall from her plump sex lips. Geoff trapped the drop with a finger and scarcely believing what he was doing, placed his finger in his mouth.
 
 
  "Cup of tea!" Maggie bent over him, holding a mug. She was wearing only a pair of panties. Why she had bothered putting those on was a mystery. Perhaps it was in case she met the milkman or the postman. Whatever, she had left her big breasts uncovered. They swung above his face as he struggled to sit up and take the mug.
"Morning!" he said thickly.
"Don't take the mug," she said, perching her bottom on the bed and leaning over him. Her nipples traced a path across his chest, the full globes swinging together, apart, together again. She held the mug to his lips, tilted it carefully. He sipped at the hot tea, took a deeper drink as she leaned across him further. Then the mug was gone, so were the bed covers, and Maggie was astride him, her breasts squashed heavily against his chest, until he felt her fingernails on his aroused flesh, guiding him into her, pushing aside the soft dampness of her panties, then into her depths. She gave a little squeak at first, hesitating, still holding him, then lowered her weight until her could feel the heat of her bottom engulfing him. She tried a few tentative slow motion bunny hops, then sighed softly, sounding just lke Lynnie, as he felt her juices suddenly flood around him and she began a slow, slow pounding, driving motion, up and down. At each downstroke, her wetness squished around his groin, spreading warm and cold at the same time.
Maggie did all the work. Geoff was free to run his hands up the sides of her powerful body, to feel the soft flesh covering the hidden strength of the girl who drove like a man. He felt his erection apparently grow another inch at the thought, and felt Maggie stiffen for a moment, before she moaned out loud, gave a little yelp like a dog, then started a rhythmic moaning and keening, her great soft breasts swinging like church bells above his face. God, she was so big!
"Maggie!"
"Yessss! Geoff, yes. Keep going. Come on, baby. Go. Yes! You're so good! Oh, yes. Oooh, YES!"
The headboard of the bed was pounding against the wall with their rhythm. A pillow slid off the bed unheeded, taking the half-full mug of tea off the bedside table. They paused for only half a beat, then the banging of the headboard built up into another colossal climax. Maggie was bellowing like an elephant as Geoff felt himself being drawn deeper and deeper into her. He strove to raise his hips off the bed to get further into the woman bucking above him, her cries building to a scream.
"Maggie, Maggie, Maggie! Oh, Unh! Woof, Yeah!"
They collapsed in a tangled heap, breathless, giggling, helpless. What on earth was so uproariously funny about it? Why couldn't they stop laughing?
"Fucking hell, Geoffrey! That was the best ever!"
She lay on his chest. Their hearts thumped raggedly together. Occasional shivers and giggles ran through them both. Sweat was pouring down their faces, their necks, their bottoms, although there was so much fluid swilling about down there, either or both of them could have pissed themselves without noticing.
How does she do it, Geoff thought. How could she make love so violently, twice last night and again this morning, and yet somehow her glasses never fell off.
Through the open window, the sounds of a London morning reasserted themselves. Birds were singing. The soft hum of traffic carried clearly to their ears. A police car howled. A car alarm stammered. Someone was using an electric drill. Then quite distinctly came the sound of polite applause, like a village cricket match.
"Nice one, Maggie!" And three or four hoarse male Irish voices gave them a rousing cheer.
"Welcome to Lethbridge Terrace, darling!" Maggie giggled. "When I take you into work, we're going to have to run the gauntlet of that bunch out there. As I see it, we have a clear choice. Either we go out and face the music straight away, or I call Duncan and tell him you've been delayed."
"Duncan? What time is it?"
"About half past nine. Why?"
"He'll strangle me! You know what he's like. I'll be dead meat."
Maggie pushed him back on to the damp pillows. Her nipples were spectacularly erect and a little smile played around her lips. "You're anything but dead meat! Tell you what we'll do, sweetie. I'll call Duncan, then you can call Wilma and tell her I'll be a little late. Tell her ... something's come up. Something that can't be ignored."
 
 
  end Chapter 1