RETURN OF THE GOLDEN GOOSE

by Some Sort of Dog
 
 
 
 
 

Chapter 3:- Shamefully Large


 
 
  "Do you want a cup of tea? I always have one in the mornings."
The hump in the bed that was Lynda stirred, and a bleary-eyed and tangle-haired face appeared.
"Shit, Lyn, I hope I don't look like you. Sleep all right?"
Lynda said nothing, attempting to open her mouth, which seemed to have healed up in the night. She shook her head vigorously and shied away from the approaching mug.
"It's nice. It will wake you up. I've been up hours. Half an hour at least."
Donna's shapely brown legs emerged from a pair of crisp white shorts. Apart from a hair ribbon, the only other item of clothing she was wearing was a black bra. Lynda's brain couldn't take it all in. This was just about the biggest bra she had ever seen. She pulled the duvet back over her head and dived back out of sight.
"Suit yourself." Donna took the mug away and went out, leaving the bedroom door wide open. In a very few minutes, Lynda would wake up and smell the bacon.
She did. Lynda wandered into the kitchen ten minutes later, wrapped in the duvet, her bare toes poking out. She found Donna, now wearing an apron for protection, busy with the frying pan. From behind, the apron string was tied round Donna's minute waist. To each side, the mammoth black cups seemed to stretch out for ever. She turned round. From the side, she looked impossibly huge. Why didn't she just topple over?
"I did some bacon and eggs for you if you want them. Say good morning, Lynda."
"Morning."
"That's better. Sit down there." Lynda sat at the table, pulling the duvet round her shoulders. A plate appeared in front of her, and a knife and fork. She must be starving, Donna thought, as she watched the girl's hands appear from their hiding place. She is starving! Lynda ate fast, with admirable concentration on the task. She wiped a slice of bread round the plate and ate that, too.
"It's all right. I'll do the washing up. The bathroom's all yours." Donna watched as the huddled figure slummocked away into the bedroom again. "Come on, Rachel. Walkies!"
 
 
  At least, Donna had covered her bra up. Lynda supposed she would have to, if she'd been out with the dog. Donna was wearing a monster T-shirt now. She looked disgustingly fit and healthy. It must have been chilly outside: even through those no-nonsense bra cups, Donna's nipples could not be ignored.
"Are you going to wear a duvet all day, or might you be slipping into something more comfortable? Mrs Danby will be here soon."
"You said ten."
"She's never late, but she's sometimes early. I'll put the kettle on. She likes a cup of coffee. You go and get dressed."
There was nothing for it. Lynda felt trapped. She found yesterday's white slacks and a selection of T-shirts and tops. Quickly, avoiding looking in the mirror, she put them all on. Just in time to hear Donna calling her.
"Lyn, make that coffee. Three mugs. She's here already!"
 
 
  There was no escape. She was going to have to go right in there and face the music. She gathered up the mugs, two in one hand, one in the other, and pushed open the door. Mrs Danby was in the armchair with her back to her, both she and Donna were laughing at something. She put the mugs down on the coffee table and stood up.
Mrs Danby greeted her as if it had only been a week since she had last seen her. "Thanks, Lynda, love. You're looking well." She sipped at her mug, nodded approvingly. "First today," she said, and raised it in a curious little toast before putting it down and resuming her interrupted conversation with Donna.
"Anyway, as I was saying, that's why I'm early. The daft bitch said she'd found a firm that does them by mail order, and she'd gone ahead and sent off for two bras without even trying them for size. She deserves everything she gets. So, I came straight down the motorway and here I am. How's yourself, anyway?"
"This bra's a bit tight already." Donna knew that was what Mrs Danby wanted to know. Not as bad as earlier this year, but still tight."
"More money from Mr Cunis, then?" said Mrs Danby sadly, her head on one side.
"'Fraid so! Scandalous, isn't it?"
"Let's have a look at you, then!"
Donna was already on her feet, peeling off her T-shirt. Lynda stared. No matter how many times she saw that bra, she still couldn't believe the size of the thing. Donna dropped the shirt on her chair as Mrs Danby stood up. She had a brown leather bag with her, like one of those doctor's bags.
"Out you come, Bertha," she said in a resigned voice, and taking out her special measuring device, she attached a pair of extra long platforms to the front. It was all a bit strange to Lynda, who stared at it.
"You've never seen this thing, have you, love? It's for measuring extra big girls like Charlotte and Donna. I underestimated the size I'd need, and had to have new platforms made for it. Donna hung over the ends when we first tried it on her, and she was only seventy inches then!"
"Seventy-one," Donna insisted. "Do you want this one off yet?"
"No, let's have a feel of you first." Mrs Danby ran her hands across the expanse of drum-taut bra cup, looking at Donna's face for confirmation. "Is it tight just here? And here?"
"All over, really. But especially under here ..."
"Okay. Whip it off. You might as well throw it away. That is only last month's, isn't it?"
"Of course! May's wouldn't even go round me now." Donna grunted as she unfastened the endless row of hooks, then looked round for somewhere to rest her breasts for the next part. She laid them on the back of the armchair, eased the bra off her shoulders, and slowly stood up, lowering her breasts somewhat precariously with both hands holding the sides of the bra. Down they went, apparently for ever, until she had to bend slightly forward to let the cups clear her nipples. She dropped the bra on the floor and stood there, carefully trying not to set them swinging.
Lynda let out a gasp. The other two looked at her with surprise, and she blushed with confusion. "They're huge. They must be the biggest ever in the world!"
"Not quite," Donna laughed shakily. "I told you about Charlotte."
"Charlotte's six feet something tall, though," said Mrs Danby, stepping forward with Bertha at the ready. "I have to stand on a chair to measure her." She stroked Donna's breasts tenderly where they hung down past her hips. "It was really rubbing, wasn't it? I don't like to suggest it, but if it does that again, call me, even if it's only a week or two. I don't always get it right."
Fitting Bertha was a bit like taking the bra off, only in reverse. With Donna bending forward from the waist, Mrs Danby quickly pulled the band around the girl's slender torso and fastened it at the back with its velcro strip. She looped the broad webbing straps over Donna's shoulders and hooked them in position at the sides of the platforms.
"Straighten up, then," she said. "I'll help you, don't strain anything."
And as Donna stood up straight, the powerful muscles at the back of her thighs and calves rippled with the effort. Mrs Danby was under the breast platforms, pushing upwards until they were horizontal, holding Donna's breasts out in front of her, literally - yes, literally - more than two feet.
Donna struggled for balance, holding Mrs Danby's hand, then she nodded, and giggled at Lynda, who was sitting with her mouth wide open, staring. Donna had put her arms out round the sides of her breasts, apparently trying to reach her nipples, which protruded perkily over the ends of Bertha's platforms. Try as she might, her fingers remained stubbornly several inches short of their targets.
"I still can't reach them, Mrs D!"
"You never will. It's your boobies that are growing, not your arms." And she whipped the tape measure from around her neck, attached an end of it to the side of the breast where the shoulder strap was fitted with a square of velcro, and disappeared off on a voyage of discovery, round behind Donna's back, out the other side and round to the front again.
"Oh, wow!" she said. "How much did you earn from these last month?"
"Two twenty!"
"Two fifty this month, then. You're three inches bigger again. Ninety-six. Get down, rest your legs. I'll get Bertha off you. Then I'll let out the cups of your old bras to see you through the next couple of days." Donna got down on to her knees, holding on to the coffee table and the chair for support, and Mrs Danby removed the monstrous dummy bra, lowering the girl's breasts to the floor. All three of them sighed with relief. Lynda seemed to have stopped breathing altogether in the last five minutes.
"Two pounds fifty?" she asked shakily. "What's that for?"
"Two hundred and fifty pounds, dear! You ought to have had the same arrangement as Donna's mother made for her. Ten pounds per inch of growth, every month. She's earned well over a thousand pounds since last year. You wouldn't have earned that much, I mean, Donna's grown more than twenty inches, but you'd have had a few hundred by now."
Lynda had gone very quiet. Mrs Danby was looking very hard at her.
"Stand up, girl!"
"Who, me?" Lynda shook her head, blushing.
"I won't tell you again. Up!"
Lynda stood up. She could feel her knees knocking. Mrs Danby was tugging at all those shirts and T-shirts and things. "Are you wearing a bra?"
"Of course. I have to."
"Let's see. Off with this lot. Get it off."
Mrs Danby would not be denied. Lynda took her clothes off, one layer at a time, aware of Mrs Danby's glare and Donna's curious expression from where she still knelt on the floor, her breasts spread out on each side of her knees.
She was down to the last layer, only her bra under this. Desperately, reluctantly, she peeled it off, and stood hunched.
"Oh, Lynda, Lynda, Lynda. You poor thing! Take it off, love, and come over here!"
It was worse than if Mrs Danby had been mad at her and called her a silly bitch. She had dropped the totally useless bra on the floor and almost fallen into the little woman's motherly arms. And both of them had cried, both of them, hugging each other, tears pouring down each other's backs.
Donna heaved herself up, picked up her own bra and wobbled massively out to the kitchen. It was time for a pot of tea.
 
 
  "I'll use your phone, Donna, and cancel my other appointments for today. This girl is more important than anything else."
"But Mum can't afford any new ..."
"Shut up, child! You can't walk around like that. How long has it been since you had a new bra?"
"A year."
"A year. And you're falling out of it like ... like ... I don't know what. She didn't even try to find you a ready made one anywhere? Not that it would have been any good, but at least, anything would be better than this." She held up the stretched and shapeless creation of pink lace and tossed it away into the corner, narrowly missing Rachel, who took it playfully into her mouth and started shaking it like a dead rat.
"Why can't I just wear one of Donna's old ones ...?"
"You daft girl, you wouldn't even get one of Donna's bras round your waist, never mind your bloody chest! What are you?" Mrs Danby whipped the tape measure from round her neck, the end whirling round and causing first Donna, then Lynda and Rachel to duck out of its way. "My God, your waist is more than twenty-eight now, more like twenty- nine, and I bet your bum is at least thirty nine!"
She held the tape around Lynda's bottom and pursed her lips in shock.
"What's the matter?" Lynda wanted to know. She looked at Mrs Danby and trembled.
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Forty-one, if I hold the tape really tight! Shameful. Shameful!"
"I can't help it. I'm large-boned."
"You're a fat pig. Now let's look at these bloody things. God knows how I'm supposed to support these. You've been letting them flop around for a whole year. Why do you think women wear bras, Lynda? Oh, come here. I'm sorry. It's just ..." She hugged Lynda again. The poor girl was having a nightmare.
Bertha was dragged out again, and adjusted, strapped around Lynda's chest, and Mrs Danby, in her element at last, was scribbling in her tatty notebook. At last, she sighed. "I've got the bits in the van.
Between thirty-six and thirty-eight. Cups: Bloody Enormous. But I can make you something."
"But I keep telling you, Mum can't afford it!"
"We'll think of something. I can not drive away from here and leave you dangling like that. Don't worry," she said kindly. You'll have two nice comfy bras by this afternoon. We'll worry about the money afterwards."
"You'll stay for lunch then, Mrs D," said Donna, who was back in her giant T-shirt again.
"Lunch? You eat lunch? No wonder you girls are busting out of all your clothes. What is it? It smells marvellous."
"Just a bit of Mum's stew we couldn't finish last night. A few vegetables. Dumplings."
"On a day like this? All that lot? It's scandalous. Yes, please."
"Good, it's all ready. Go get your machine and stuff from the van, I'll lay the table. You hungry, Lyn?"
The girl looked nervously at Mrs Danby as if she thought she was going to be restricted to bread and water for a month. The little bra maker just grinned at her.
"Since I'm not a model any more, yeah! Please!"
 
 
  "You mean you don't get undressed when you have PE at school?"
"I don't do PE," said Lynda. "I'm excused. Even if I wasn't, I still wouldn't go. I don't spend much time at school anyway."
"If you had, and if your teacher had seen you, she'd have been sure to mention it and done something about it." Mrs Danby finished her meal and sat back in the armchair with a discreet belch. "Those stretch marks! Your boobs have really gone too far. You're probably going to have to see the doctor about them, dear."
"Have them cut off?" Donna gasped. "But that's terrible! Especially after what you went through, Mrs D."
"Mine were never as bad as Lyn's. No, I think there's nothing for it. You saw Dr Jack last year. He's still the best. I'll call your Mum on Monday and tell her all about it. She needs a good talking-to, that woman."
"No, Mrs D! She's horrible. She'll take it out on me. You don't know what she's like. I'm not going back there if you tell her. She'll make my life a misery."
"She'll have to be told, love." Mrs Danby reached out and took Lynda's hand. It lay limply in her palm until she squeezed it.
"You can stay here, Lynnie," Donna said, the words out of her mouth before she could even think of what she was saying.
"Can I?" Lynda brightened immediately.
"For a few more weeks, I'm sure Mum wouldn't mind. Until the end of the holidays. We'll ask her, anyway."
"Oh, that's great, Don! You don't know what it's like at home, honest. You wouldn't believe me."
"I'd better get on with these bras of yours, Miss Piggy. Before you grow another six inches." She sat behind the sewing machine, grabbed a couple of improbably large bra cups and jiggled them around until they were the right way up. With a last glance at Lynda, sitting huddled with one of Donna's shirts over her shoulders, she began to sew.
 
 
  end Chapter 3