RETURN OF THE GOLDEN GOOSE

by Some Sort of Dog
 
 
 
 
 

Chapter 21:- As I Walked Out One Sweet Summer's Day


 
 
  "So we want you to come along to the studio and try a few shots to see how they look," said Maggie.
"Me? A model? But I'm only a scullery maid. Or a scrubber. I can't be a model, same as the mistress! Can I?"
"Of course you can," said Donna. "I'm going to be a model in a few months, and I'm only a schoolgirl. And God knows how big you'll be by the time I start!"
"In that case, when can we do it?" Lucy thought about it for a while. "If Mrs Fielding can spare me from my duties, that is."
"From your what? I never offered you a job. You volunteered. I can't afford to pay you."
"Nor can Trigger, unless he pays me in sex."
"Who's paying who?" Laura muttered.
Lynda snorted unattractively, like an aggrieved pig.
Maggie made a note in her bulging appointments book. "I'll arrange it for later this week, if I can. Could Donna drive you down to London?"
"I don't want to drive in London," Donna shook her head nervously.
Maggie shrugged. "There's nothing to it, you just wear sun glasses, put your foot down and everyone gets out of your way. But why not drive down to Amersham, or somewhere handy on the outskirts, then just catch the tube. You can probably get all the way to Duncan's with a couple of changes of train."
"As long as we don't have to go through anywhere too narrow," Donna giggled.
"If it's a problem, they will always open a special gate for you. Okay, I'll arrange it with Duncan, and give you a call tomorrow." Maggie stood up reluctantly. "I'll be on my way, then."
"Why not stay for lunch?" Laura asked. "We've got plenty."
"No, I really mustn't. I was just wondering if Lucy was going to get dressed again. I wanted to see what she looks like in a T-shirt."
"Gosh! Are you a lezzie, too, Maggie?" Lucy gasped in delight. "That's three of you in here! Four, including me, although I'm still learning how to do it."
Donna studied the ceiling. Lynda moaned once more, then fled from the room making little twttering noises.
 
 
  Mrs Danby sat back with her coffee. Lucy and Donna had accompanied Maggie outside, taking the Super Bertha with them.
"Wow, Laura, it's exhausting, working with these youngsters," she sighed. "Although I wouldn't swap my job for anything else. I might need to take on some help, though."
"What, to assemble the Super Bertha?"
"Not that so much, but now I'm doing house calls, I get so little time for actually making stuff. I'm up until midnight most nights, machining. It's all good money, but I've only got one pair of hands. I could do with training up a girl to do assembly work. Cunis is paying for three girls' clothes at the moment, and if Lucy joins HUMUNGOUS! as well, she's practically going to be a full time job on her own, the way she's growing."
"Is she really growing that fast?"
"She reminds me of the way I grew when I was ... ha ha ... I nearly said when I was her age. When I was about nine or ten. I keep forgetting she's twenty!"
"You think she really is?"
"I've given up trying to guess. All I do is make bras! But yes, young Lucy's growing at a hell of a rate. The sky could well be the limit as far as she's concerned."
"My God, another one!" Laura laughed nervously. "Having just the two of them about the place has been wearing enough."
"That's why I'm happy for her that she's here, in a way. You know what it's all about. If she was anywhere else, whoever was looking after her might not understand what was going on. If she's going to need a new bra every couple of weeks, some people would go running to the doctor to get them chopped off. The girl's happy with her figure. In fact, she's ecstatic with it. If she can stay happy with it if things start getting out of hand, she'll be okay. She is a sweetie, isn't she!"
"Life's certainly never dull with her around. It would be very quiet if she left now. Don't tell her I said so, though! If she got the idea that I wanted her to stay for ever, she'd move in with half a dozen boyfriends! Oops! Here she is."
"Auntie Laura!"
"Is that me?"
"She sounds like one of the family already!"
"Can I go and play with Lynda in her room, please? Only Donna and Maggie are snogging outside and it's made me all wet...!" Lucy hopped around in acute discomfort, her breasts rebounding absurdly inside her outsized T-shirt.
"They're what? Maggie and my Donna?"
"Snogging. You know, Auntie Laura. Kissing, and hugging and touching each other's rude bits. You must have done it yourself before you got old. Please! I'm going to squirt!"
"Cheeky little..." Laura stopped herself, seeing Mrs Danby stifling a laugh. "Go on, go and see Lynda. And don't make a noise!"
Lucy was off like a shot, in a riot of bouncing shirt.
"I'd better go and investigate outside..." Laura made to get up.
"Stay there, love." Mrs Danby put a hand on her arm. "Lucy tends to exaggerate. They're probably only chatting."
 
 
  "Donna! Touch me again. Just there! Yes!"
Donna's head was spinning. Maggie's perfume filled the BMW, was it overpowering their combined musky sex fragrance, or just mingling with it? She was confused. She half wished that Adrian would come plodding through the front gate to rescue her. On the other hand, she didn't want rescuing. She shivered as Maggie cupped her nipple, which was thrusting against the unforgiving material of her bra cup. "I'm really wet, Maggie!"
"I know, love! It's all right. There's not enough room in here. Darling, when you come to London, can we slip away somewhere while they're taking Lucy's pictures? I need you so much! I need your huge breasts."
Donna felt a gush of moisture through her panties. It was flowing down her thigh, not just trickling. Her shorts were soaked. She closed her eyes and lay back in Maggie's arms. All this time she had wanted Maggie to do this with her. Now it was happening. She felt Maggie's lips, moist and parted, brushing hers, a quivering tongue probing between her teeth. That did it! She almost passed out at that touch, her head whirled as if she was drunk and she wanted Maggie to take her now. Take her away in the car and go to bed with her for a week.
Maggie's hand snaked down between Donna's breasts, and straight down into the top of her shorts as if they weren't there. The long fingers had scarcely touched her when she came with such overwhelming force that she literally lost her senses and passed out.
 
 
  Donna slumped in the armchair and tried to focus. A thought came to her.
"Maggie forgot to tell you, Mrs Danby, she needs to see you again, soon. Something about her bra getting too small. I thought she looked bigger."
"She's been getting bigger for some time, love. But I'll call her tomorrow." Mrs Danby scribbled a note in her notebook and stood up. "I must be going. I'll get Lucy's bras biked up tomorrow." She leaned across and kissed Laura on the cheek, then patted Donna under her chin. Donna thought her fingers were like ice, then she realised it was because her face was like an electric hotplate.
The van drove out of the gate as Laura came back into the front room.
"Are you okay, love?" Laura looked at her daughter with concern.
Donna nodded, then looked around her for the first time. "Where did Lucy go?"
"In Lynnie's room. You stay there. You don't look well. Lie down for a bit. You've got too hot, haven't you. It's hot out there."
"It was, yes!" She pulled her feet up on to the seat and curled herself up round her mammoth breasts. Laura placed a cool hand on her forehead. Donna wished the room would stand still just for a moment.
"Come on, get up and come to your bedroom. You can lie down there."
"But I can't go to bed, things are happening today."
"Let them happen later. You lie down first."
She let her mother lead her into the bedroom and help her on to the bed, where she lay back on the cool sheet. It felt better.
Laura was about to creep silently out of the room when she realised that her daughter's breasts had rolled to each side of her body, revealing her thighs. "She's pee-ed herself," she thought worriedly, then something made her touch the soft flesh of the girl's inner thighs. It was not wet, but sticky.
Donna stirred, muttering something, and parted her thighs, revealing still more of herself. The yellow cotton of her shorts was soaked in a wet patch around the crotch, a patch bigger than Laura's hand. And there, at the top edge of this wet patch, was the perfect print of a pair of slightly parted lips, in Maggie's lipstick.
Her thoughts in a turmoil, Laura found a spare bed sheet in the wardrobe and spread it over her daughter. Only then did she creep out of the room. She was about to go back out to the kitchen, when she heard a small noise coming from Lynda's bedroom.
Although she told herself not to do it, she reached out for the door handle, and opened the door. The musky, animal smell of sex hit her like a wave. There, on the bed, Lynda was spreadeagled, her long, stretch-marked breasts flung out to each side, her powerful legs splayed. All that prevented Laura from seeing right into Lynda's darkest interior was the fact that a dirty-blonde ponytailed head was bobbing enthusiastically around the teenager's crotch.
Something made Lucy look up. Her face was wet with Lynda's juices, smeared from eyebrows to chin. She saw Laura standing there, and grinned happily. "Hello, Auntie Laura! Coming in...?"
Laura closed the door. She felt overwhelmingly aroused. A long, cool drink? Perhaps a cold shower! But she got only as far as the kitchen doorway when a knock sounded on the front door.
"I hope that's not the vicar," she muttered, although the vicar had not called these past three years, presumably to preserve his reputation as a man of the cloth.
She opened the door cautiously.
"Adrian! Erm, she's lying down at the moment. She's not feeling too well. Probably got too hot. Come on in, love. I was just putting the kettle on!"
 
 
  Maggie stopped her car in the cool shade of the trees. Her dress was sticking to her. Her bra felt intolerably tight. She unclipped her seat belt and climbed out of the car. The dress clung to her bottom as she tried to pull it off over her head, but at last it was off, together with her glasses. She heard them fall to the ground as she shook the folds of the dress free of her hands on to the car seat.
"Shit, where are they?" Carefully, she closed the car door, then backed away a few paces to see if she could see her glasses glinting. No luck. The sun didn't penetrate the leafy canopy. Feeling distinctly undignified, she got down on to her hands and knees, and began shuffling forwards, feeling the ground in front of her and to either side. She stopped. Her bra was so tight in this position. She almost tore it off, dropped it on the ground and resumed her quest. Nothing. "Shit," she said again. "What's that?" she had put her hand on something soft. Instinctively, she knew what it was. She sniffed cautiously. She had guessed right. Fresh, too. She wiped her hand vigorously on a patch of springy grass, made a mental note of the area to be avoided, and crept forward again.
Then she found them! Her glasses were there in a pile of dried leaves and twigs, by her right hand. Gasping with relief, she put them on and looked about her.
"Eeek!"
A great scrabbling, snuffling noise from somewhere terrifyingly close, and someone leaped on her from directly behind. She felt a hideous presence thrusting at her panties, felt their clammy dankness as they were pressed against her crotch. She scrambled to her feet, ready to flee, desperately hoping the car would start instantly. With one hand on the driver's door, she realised that her attacker had broken off the assault.
"Barney? Come on, Barney!"
Panicking, Maggie heard a woman's voice from the woods.
"Come here, Barney!" a man shouted. "You shouldn't have let him go so close to the road. It's all your fault...!"
And Maggie looked up in terror as a man burst out of cover about thirty yards away. Barney, meanwhile, had indulged in a piss against a tree, investigated Maggie's recently-disturbed dog-turd, marked it for future reference, and had come over to Maggie to renew his acquaintance with the young human female with the truly fascinating smell. Barney's long nose probed Maggie's panties, then he blew hard, the way dogs do.
"He won't hurt you," the man shouted. "Stand perfectly still! Oh, my God!"
It occurred to Maggie to wonder why, if Barney was not going to hurt her, she had to take the precaution of standing perfectly still. She decided not to stay to find out. She leaped into the car and started the engine. Barney barked once in farewell, then trotted amiably over to his master, who was still staring as the BMW scrabbled for grip and departed in a cloud of dust and leaves.
Out of the woods came a severe-looking middle-aged woman clutching a dog leash.
"Look at that maniac," she pointed savagely at the fleeing car as Maggie got it back in shape after a lurid power slide. "Did you get his number, Gordon?"
"Er, no, dear. Although I think I might recognise her ... him again. In fact," Gordon said to himself as he bent to welcome the happy Barney back to captivity. "In fact, I'm sure I recognise her from somewhere. I think I'll take another look at that tape as soon as I get home."
"Gordon! What's that Barney's got in his mouth? It looks ... it looks like ... it is! It's a brassière! A huge brassière. How simply obscene!"
 
 
  It was a whole mile before Maggie dared slow down and even to think of pulling off the road. Correcting the slide had given her a sprained wrist, a painful bruise on her left breast and panties half-full of piss. And now, there were few places to stop. Every likely-looking gateway seemed to have a large and expensive house at the end of it. A car had come up close behind her, and other traffic had materialised from the other direction. There was nowhere to stop now. Even if she found a place, people would notice. She began to feel for her clothes. The dress was inside out and had rolled itself into a tangled, clammy ball. Her bra had disappeared. She remembered tearing it off, outside the car. So, it had been too small, but it had cost her a lot of money.
A road junction was ahead, with a car in front, an Austin Allegro whose two occupants probably had a combined age of 175. It was waiting to pull out on a main road, seething with traffic. Where had all the traffic suddenly come from? She stopped behind the other car and glanced in her mirror at the car behind. Just what she wanted. Two young men in a yellow Ford Escort. The beat of their sub-woofer hurt her chest. In front, the Allegro was sitting in a stinking purple miasma of oil-smoke, waiting for a written invitation before venturing out into the daunting traffic.
Maggie could feel the sun blazing through the windows, scorching hot on her bare breasts. There might just be time to sort her dress out ready to put it on. She grabbed it and shook it frantically. It remained horribly tangled. She found the neck and shook it again. She seemed to be getting somewhere. Then a great horn sounded, like the last trump. She sat upright and shot a furious glance at the car behind. The two boys were waving at her. She stuck a finger up at the rear view mirror and looked in front. The road as far as the junction was clear, with only a lingering pall of blue smoke to betray where the Allegro had been.
She engaged a gear and shot forward, wetting her panties again in her panic and confusion. A tiny gap in the stream of cars presented itself, and Maggie floored the accelerator and laid streaks of black rubber on the hot tarmac as she shot across the road and settled into the same speed as the rest of the vehicles. Right behind her was a truck, so close she could see nothing in her mirrors but the maker's name. SCANIA, it said in fat chromium letters. She slumped lower in her seat and tried to disentangle her dress again.
A blare of horns brought her attention back to her surroundings. The cars ahead had apparently stopped dead, and she was about to pile into them at unabated speed. She lurched to a squealing stop and tugged at the dress again, as the truck behind came to a halt with an enormous hiss of air brakes. The bloody driver could see her, she knew he could. One last tug at the dress...
The traffic was moving again. Maggie flung the dress on to the passenger seat again, and accelerated away. She was aware that she was heading away from London, but was prepared to face one obstacle at a time. The first thing to do was to get off this bloody major road. A junction was coming up. A turning off the main road on her side. It was more of a smooth fork than anything else, so she was able to swing straight off the road without slowing, and quickly put a hundred yards between her and the truck, which gave her a long farewell blast on its air horns.
Chilling sweat bathed Maggie as she looked for a stopping place. The road was narrow, little more than a surfaced farm track. In fact, the farm was just up ahead. She slewed off the road into a gateway and reached out for the dress.
It wasn't there.
She ducked to look under the seat. Had it slipped off the seat when she had pulled off the main road? No. It wasn't in the back seat either, nor had it slipped between the seat and the passenger door. Desperately, she opened the passenger side glove compartment. It had gone. Obviously, she had thrown it clean out of the passenger's window. It could be miles away. It might as well be in the next county. No way was she going to get it back.
Sobbing, wetting herself in earnest now, she sat back in her cloud of personal steam and felt scalding tears flood down her cheeks.
"Excuse me, Miss! Is this your...?"
"Aaargh!" Maggie sat bolt upright and squinted out of the window. The police car had arrived behind her in total silence, and the policeman was blocking out the sun, a huge, looming silhouette. This was it. The final humiliation as everything went. Her last chance, her job, her prospects: all gone. The police tended to disapprove of naked driving in the Home Counties.
The policeman tried again. "Sorry to startle you, Miss. But is this your dress, by any chance?"
 
 
  end Chapter 21