RETURN OF THE GOLDEN GOOSE

by Some Sort of Dog

Chapter 27:- One Last Orgy

"What's going on? What's the matter?"

Donna could only mumble. No words came out. "In there," she said at last.

"In here?" Lynda grabbed the door handle.

"No!"

"But you said..."

Donna dragged her friend away. "They're doing ... they're having an... they're ...!"

"Who?"

"My mum! Maggie and Lucy. But my mum!"

"Doing what?"

"You know."

"I'm asking you."

"Sex," Donna whispered finally. "On the couch."

Lynda wondered what was so special about doing it on the couch. It had evidently made an impression on Donna. "Are all of them on the couch?"

"Nearly. Mum was. The other two were sort of not quite on the couch and not quite off it. What's that got to do with anything?"

"I'm going to have a look."

"No, she'll see."

"She didn't see you when you looked in."

"Her eyes were shut. She might have opened them by now."

"Not necessarily. You sometimes keep yours shut while you're doing it. What are they doing, anyway?"

"I can't tell you. It's my mum we're talking about."

"I'll see for myself then."

"No, come back! Lynnie!"

Lynda had already opened the door. She closed it again almost immediately. "She's still got her eyes shut," she confirmed. "Bloody hell. Your mum!"

"What was she doing?"

"Oh, you know! Things."

"What things?"

"Just sex things. I never thought your mum would do that!"

"What's she doing. I'm having a look."

"No, Don! You mustn't!"

"Why not? She's my mum."

"That's why!"

"Let's both go in, then. If we're quiet, we can open the door, crawl in on our hands and knees and hide behind the couch." Donna reached for the door handle, then got down on all fours. Her breasts squeezed out of the gap between her arms and her knees, resting massively on the floor.

"Can you crawl with those things?"

"I'm going to try. You ready?"

"I'm not missing this. Right behind you."

"Let's go."

The door swung open silently and they shuffled forward a foot or so before Donna stopped with a muffled curse and Lynda cannoned softly into her bottom. "What's the matter," she whispered.

"I knelt on my nipple. It hurt." At least, there was no danger of their whispers being overheard. Someone was enjoying an orgasm on the other side of the couch. "Who's that?"

"Sounds like Lucy. Shut the door with your foot. Let's go!"

They crawled into their hiding place and flopped into a sitting position.

"All right now?"

"You wouldn't believe how much that hurt."

"I nearly flattened my nose on your arse when you stopped dead like that."

"Sorry, it wasn't my fault."

"It's all right. I quite enjoyed it." Lynda allowed her hand to stray into Donna's lap, sneaking under the huge weight of her right breast.

"Not here, they'll hear us!"

"With that row going on?" Lucy was approaching completion. She was joined by another voice.

"That's Mum this time."

"God, she's loud! I can see who you take after, now."

"Christ, now Maggie's started up."

"What are they doing? Let's look round the side." Lynda crawled back and peered over the side of the couch. Her face lit up, her eyes went wide, her tongue came out and she clutched at herself with an eager hand. It was enough to convince Donna that this was a sight worth seeing. She crawled a little further and poked her head above the parapet. Instantly, she felt herself getting soaking wet.

Her mother's breasts were plump and pink, the nipples magnificently erect. At least, one of them was, the one she could see. The other one was in Maggie's mouth. Maggie, her back toward Donna's end of the couch, knelt beside Laura, her breasts dangling and swaying like church bells. The bells of St Margaret's. At the other end of the couch was Lucy, head down in Laura's crotch, partly hidden behind Maggie. What could never be hidden was Lucy's colossal bust, which ballooned out in all directions, far wider than her own tiny body. Laura was out of it. The only sign of animation from her was her left hand, which was intimately exploring Maggie's hairy groin. It was, for a devoted daughter, an oddly worrying spectacle.

Donna watched for perhaps half a minute, then pulled back behind the couch and sat down, confused and hugely aroused. Lynda appeared at the other end of the couch and crawled to her side.

"Fucking hell," she said. "What about all that, then?"

"What could you see from up your end?"

"Not a lot, apart from Lucy's udders. They're bigger than ever. She was certainly getting her tongue into your mum, though."

"Lynnie, don't!"

"You can't pretend it's not happening. Listen to them again."

Three voices were raised in chorus. The two girls could stand it no longer. They tore at each other's clothing, desperate to get at each other.

"Lynnie, please, no!"

"Yes! Ouch, Donna, please. Now!"

"Yes!"

At least, they agreed on something. Meanwhile, on the other side of the couch, a great upheaval took place. Screams of agonised joy went up, then the couch gave a mighty lurch and scooted back against the wall on its castors. Almost against the wall: there were two substantial girls stopping it.

"Oof!"

"Ouch, wow!"

Out front, the three participants had dumped themselves in a heap on the floor, virtually without missing a beat. Lynda experimentally pushed the couch away. It moved a few inches and came to a halt, up against something soft. At least, she now had enough room to get Donna's panties off. Donna's legs would have been up around her ears if there hadn't been a hundred and six inches-worth of bust in the way. Her legs just had to make their own arrangements. There was room for Lynda's face in there, which was all that mattered. The younger girl's tongue probed Donna's warm and fragrantly sopping crotch, then found her clitoris, aching for attention. It wasn't aching for long.

With a great whoosh of ecstatic joy, Donna's loins relaxed in a huge, shuddering release. Her cry of wondrous exhilaration echoed off the walls and ceiling. It pushed Lynda over the edge, too. Her left hand was probing somewhere in the wetness of her own juicy sex, as her screams mingled with Donna's. Then her hand was pulled away by another, insistently from behind her, and a face inserted itself with eagerness. Its nose did things to Laura. Lucy could be heard faintly, shouting encouragement as Donna came and came and came again before collapsing flat on her back, helpless; with Lynda still lapping at her on hands and knees; and Lucy, flat on her back in turn, her face buried in Lynda.

Above them, looking down over the back of the couch, red- faced with the afterglow of their mating, Maggie and Laura gazed on the appallingly arousing scene.

"Oh, dear," said Laura inadequately.

The figures on the floor rearranged themselves, blinking. They sat up and looked about them. Only Lucy seemed entirely at her ease. She stood up, scratching an armpit with one hand and somewhere mercifully invisible with the other. "I'll go and put the kettle on, then," she said, once more the faithful family retainer. "You all want coffee?" She looked around the embarrassed faces in turn, making a mental note of their preferences. "One white with one, one white with three, black with one, black without and one for me. It will take the taste away," she added tastelessly and wobbled away into the kitchen, picking up a tumbled cushion off the floor on the way. Four faces looked away from the sight of Lucy's excessively moist and glistening rear view in sudden embarrassment.

"Sorry, Mum!"

"No, I'm the one who should be saying sorry."

"I opened the door and saw..."

"It was our fault. My fault."

Awful silence fell, during which Lynda decided her bum was getting numb and got up off the floor. She offered a hand to Donna, who accepted it dumbly. Everyone moved around plumping up cushions, looking for something to do. Four women in various stages of undress, wandering in circles, avoiding each other's eyes, apologising every time they bumped into one another. Before long, there wasn't a cushion which hadn't been plumped and rearranged at least half a dozen times. Laura found herself straightening the pictures on the walls. Suddenly she giggled, and the others looked at her, wondering what she found so funny at a time like this. It was as if she was laughing because someone had farted in church. She pointed: Lucy was coming in with the coffee.

"It's not my fault," Lucy whined. "They're getting too big now for me to be carrying trays."

"Carry a tray like that, dear," said Laura, "and you'll never be out of a job."

The five mugs were arranged round the outside of the tray. The rest of it was full of Lucy's breasts, resting proudly with nipples erect, wobbling gently as she moved carefully into the living room. Fortunately, it was a very large tray. She had to kneel down to place the whole thing on the coffee table.

"And not a drop spilt," said Maggie with relief. "You're a little treasure, Lucy."

It was a subdued journey up to Lynda's place. Donna offered to drive her home. She wanted, as much as anything, to get away from the bungalow, where conversation with her mother was still a little strained after the previous night.

Maggie had stopped over, sleeping on the couch. To judge by the muffled noises coming from the living room, she did not sleep entirely alone. Lucy kept her company. A little treasure, Lucy.

"We'll see each other again, won't we?" Lynda sounded anxious now that she was being delivered to her all too familiar front door. Delivered back to the rest of her life. "Bloody place!" she groaned as they passed the school entrance. "I was hoping it had been burned down."

"They'd only rebuild it again. Is this your street?"

"Yeah. Same old shitty place. I don't want to go home, Don."

"I don't want you to go, either. We'll see each other again. Christmas, perhaps."

"That would be nice." The car stopped. "Christmas. I wonder how big Lucy will be by Christmas."

"Don't ask! Shall I come in? Say hello to your mum?" Donna got out and watched Lynda lug her bag out of the back door. "At least, you're coming home with a couple of new bras to show for it."

"She'll probably wring my neck. Good old Mrs Danby, though. She never charged me anything for those bras."

"Cunis probably paid for them. If only he knew!"

They went up the little path and round to the back door. Lynda opened it and went inside.

"She's not in." The washing machine was running, but there was no one about. "Probably gone down the shops." Tears suddenly came into Lynda's eyes. "Oh, everything's all wrong! I hate this place. I hate school, and all the other girls and the boys. I hate this house."

Donna reached out for her but there was nothing they could do. They clung together forlornly, Lynda's tears trickling down on to her friend's face. "We'll phone every week, okay? We can talk about Maggie, and Lucy's boobs and everything. You'll be okay, Lynnie."

The washing machine accelerated into its spin cycle, thumping and vibrating. It was too noisy to hear each other talking. Donna gave Lynda's arm a final squeeze. "I'll go," she mouthed the words, and freed herself. Lynda flung her arms round the shorter girl and hugged her tight. Their lips, their mouths, their tongues met. The washing machine changed up a gear and spun faster.

They never heard the back door open.

All they heard was a scream. A scream of outrage.

"Mum! I came home. Oh, hi, Mrs Larkin."

Her mother's face registered only grim disapproval. So did the next door neighbour's. Mrs Larkin's face rarely showed anything else. It showed a glimmer of something else this time, though. Mrs Larkin sensed a scandal.

Two of them, right there in the kitchen, kissin' and cuddlin' and God knows what. A couple of bloody queers, 'er and 'er fancy girlfriend from down South...

"I'll come and wave bye-bye..." Lynda followed Donna out into the street and watched gloomily as she squeezed her bust behind the wheel. "I daren't go back in," the poor girl sobbed hopelessly.

Donna's hand was warm and dry. "You'll have to stay, love. You have to finish school. They'd come and find you. Hang in there. You'll get by. I'll call you, okay?"

It wasn't okay at all.

"Is this okay, Donna?"

Lucy paraded around Donna's bedroom in her new bra, the red one she had worn at the studio. Wearing only the bra and a pair of matching silk panties, she pranced about, coming to a halt with her fists on her hips and her legs apart, standing in front of Donna. Donna was grateful the little girl had finally stopped marching around the bedroom. It had been making her head spin.

"Is what okay?"

"The bra. It feels okay, but it looks a bit too small in the mirror. Look. Up here, and round here." Her little fingers traced the plump bulges of surplus breast flesh oozing out round the sides and top of the cups. "Ouch!" She poked a stubby finger into one of the mounds of excess breast. The great big bright red cups looked painfully tight on her.

"Come here." Donna held her hand out and snapped her fingers. Lucy came close enough for her to slip a finger beneath one shoulder strap. A tight fit. "Was it as tight as this at the studio the day before yesterday?"

"No. It was snug, but all of me was in the cups then. I'm growing so fast, Don! Did you ever grow as fast as this?"

"You're joking! Maybe it's just a spurt. It will stop as suddenly as it started. Are you going to get dressed this morning?"

"I suppose so. Can I borrow one of your old shirts. None of mine..."

"Go on, help yourself! I wondered why you were paying me a visit at half seven in the morning!"

"Thanks, Don!" Lucy began burrowing in the dressing table, yanking out a selection of shirts.

"Not those, they're new. You can have everything in the bottom drawer."

"Everything? Gosh, thanks, Don! That's more clothes than I ever had in all my life." She gathered up an armful and headed for the door before Donna could change her mind. "I love you, Don," she called, disappearing. Her voice echoed tunelessly round the house as she went into her tiny spare room. Seconds later, she came out again. "I keep forgetting, I've got Lynnie's room now."

"You'll need it, the rate you're growing," Donna muttered. What was it? Nine inches in ten days? That was before the most recent studio visit. She was certainly at least a couple of inches bigger than the red bra already. What did that make it? Eleven inches in less than two weeks? A foot in twelve days? If Lucy carried on like this, Donna thought, she wouldn't have a shirt to her name in another six weeks. "Two more months of this, and I'll be wearing Lucy's cast-off bras!"

"At least, if the poor kid carries on growing at this rate, she'll be able to wear some of Donna's old bras." Mrs Danby thumbed back through her notebook and found what she was looking for. "Not yetawhile, but we have to look on the dark side. Assume the worst." The bra maker turned the red bra over in her hands. "Look at it, not even a week old! It's a shame, but at least it's all paid for. It seems a lot of work for nothing." She sipped her coffee mug.

Lucy had been hopping around like a cat on hot bricks until Mrs Danby had finally unhooked her from the Super Bertha, then she had shot away to the toilet, only a minute or so too late.

"As long as Cunis pays your petrol money as well as all these bras, you'll be okay." Laura took the bra and stretched the elastic experimentally. She held it against her own chest and giggled. "Makes mine look like a couple of poached eggs. But if you're driving up here twice a week just to keep Lucy supported, it's getting near the point where you'd have to think of moving in permanently."

"Making her a new bra every day."

"Two a day."

"Don't tempt providence. At an inch a day, young Lucy's going to need something a bit more special than this thing before long." Mrs Danby tossed the bra on the table. "She's growing so fast she doesn't hang down like Donna � she's far more like a pair of beachballs � but she still needs to stop them bouncing around. Just because they're up there on her tummy doesn't mean they're not enormously heavy. She does well even to stand up with those things hanging round her neck."

"Do you think she will carry on like this?"

"Who knows? Donna's still growing steadily, and we probably thought she was growing as fast as anyone could, but Lucy's five or six times as fast as her at the moment. I've never seen anything like it, apart from..."

"From what?"

"Apart from me, when I was a kid. I grew as fast as Donna for about six weeks. I was scared stiff. Thought I was going to burst. If I'd been allowed to carry on ... who knows?"

"So we wait and see?"

"We wait and see, and meanwhile, we carry on making bigger and bigger bras for the girl." Mrs Danby laughed suddenly.

"What is it?"

"I was just thinking. It's just as well I don't use cup sizes. The alphabet's way too short for my clients."

"What about that other system you mentioned?"

"The Level Bra System? Ingenious, but it's not the complete answer. You still have to make the things to fit the tits, that's all that matters. And some dangle, and some don't. At least, Lucy's don't. Not yet!"

"They will soon?"

"It won't be long before they're on their way down. Then there'll be no stopping them. They'll be down round her knees before she knows where she is."

"Round my knees?" Lucy came back, looking relieved. "My boobs?"

"Just you wait, my girl."

"So she'd be one of your friend Miss Shaw's Level Two girls by then?"

"She's easily a Level Two now. By my reckoning, Lucy's a Level Two G-cup. Her bust is up to 68 inches already. Even that black bra I made is too tight on her. I know our Charlie Davenport is a bit of a freak of nature, but she's not going to be the only Level Three girl in the country much longer. Donna's on her way to Level Three, and so's this little madam. In fact, I don't like to think about it, but it's going to be a close call which of these two reaches Miss Shaw's Level Three first. Fortunately, it's just academic."

"Level Three!" Lynda laughed shakily. "It makes them sound as if they're playing a computer game."

"They'll wish they were only playing a game by the time they get up to that size. Their best bet might be to go in for bodybuilding so they're strong enough to carry all that weight around. No, it might sound exciting, but the race for Level Three isn't going to be a picnic."

end Chapter 27