RETURN OF THE GOLDEN GOOSE

by Some Sort of Dog

Chapter 33:- See You On Saturday, Then

Donna looked up. Was that a soft knock on her bedroom door?

"Come in."

It was Lucy.

"What's the matter? Why are you dressed like that?"

Lucy unwound the bra from her neck and tossed it on to the bed. She pulled at the sweater until the sleeves became disentangled and threw it on top of the bra. Donna had to gasp. She hadn't really seen Lucy's naked breasts for a week, and she was noticeably bigger now. Donna knew she must be: she was going through her cast-off bras at one every day or so, but it was now obvious just how much bigger she was.

"I couldn't get your sweater back on. It's too tight."

"Luce!" Donna reached for the sweater and held it up. It was shaped like a pair of big boobs. It even had nipples stretched into the front. "Look what you've done to it!"

"It's not my fault my nipples stick out so much." She touched one with a fingertip and winced.

"Why did you take it off anyway?" Donna was intrigued.

"I was fucking. With a boy."

"A boy? Who? Where?"

Lucy considered for a while. "I don't remember his name. He had dark hair. He said he knows you. Down at the cricket club, in that big shed."

"The pavilion?"

"That's right. The pavilion. It's not bad inside, but it smells of boys' socks. Where's your mum?"

"What? She went to bed early. She had a headache."

"Good. I'm hungry. She doesn't like me eating." Lucy turned to leave the room. "Ouch!" She rubbed the side of her breast where it had hit the door. It was still rebounding in several directions.

"She doesn't mind you eating! Not within reason. But you eat more than Mum and me put together."

"I'm growing," Lucy complained. "Back in a minute," she whispered urgently and disappeared.

Donna inspected her sorry sweater again before dropping it sadly in a heap.

Lucy was back in three minutes, with two large oval dinner plates. She put one on the dressing table, then went round and sat on the far edge of the bed with a plate in front of her. Donna stared at it, her eyes boggling partly at Lucy's insanely developed profile and partly at the laden plate.

"Do you want some?" Lucy asked through a chicken leg. "There's plenty left in the fridge."

"No thanks," said Donna loftily, as Lucy put down a picked-clean chicken bone with an air of regret and picked up another. The pile on the plate seemed undiminished. There was another chicken drumstick there, a sizeable chunk of pizza, two jumbo Cumberland sausages, a generous slice of ham and egg pie topped with sliced mushrooms, two raw carrots, a tomato, two doorstep slices of bread and butter and about a dozen baby new potatoes. "Lucy, you'll burst!"

Lucy seemed prepared to take that risk. She finished her chicken leg and picked up the third and last in a single practised motion. A small piece of meat fell on to her left breast. Donna watched it, hypnotised. The girl's nipples and areolae were still hugely erect and puffed up. They seemed almost red raw. Donna wanted to reach out and feel if they were as hot as they looked.

"How long have you been seeing this boy?"

"About ten minutes."

"No, not that. When did you meet him?"

"Only tonight. It was his first time. I've had most of the others before."

"You've been down there before?"

"Tons of times! It wasn't so good yesterday and Saturday: too many people around. But at least I helped the ladies make the teas for the cricketers. I had lots to eat. I'm starving," she added unnecessarily, cramming three small potatoes into her mouth and lapsing into relative silence.

"Is that where you've been every night? Shagging?"

Lucy nodded, spraying bits of potato on the bed covers. She swallowed urgently. "I'll soon have enough for a new sweater, only I'd rather Maggie got me one ..."

"Wait a minute. You get money?"

"Of course!" She took a bite of tomato. Juice spurted down her chin and dribbled into her cleavage. "Eeeek!" She quickly plucked a number of notes out of the warm, moist cavern.

"All that?" Donna stared at the little pile of money. "All tonight?"

Lucy laughed at the thought. "Of course not! This is mostly last night's. I only got fifteen tonight. Seventeen with the loose change."

Donna was horrified. "How much? How much do you charge them?"

"A pound for a feel of my boobs, only I might stop doing that, they're so sore. It's a fiver for a fuck!"

"Lucy, that's disgraceful!"

Lucy paused in the act of inserting a jumbo sausage into her mouth. She slid it out for a moment. "What is? Too much, or not enough? I thought it sounded about right. Most of them can't afford much more." The sausage went back in and disappeared. It looked obscene. Half girl, half python.

"You can't charge for it, Luce! It's prostitution. It's selling your body for sinful purposes."

"I haven't sold it, Don. They only hire it out for five minutes at a time." Lucy seemed to be seriously considering rejection of the second jumbo sausage, until she suddenly wrapped it in a slice of bread and attacked it with extreme prejudice, following it up with the last of the potatoes. Donna wasn't feeling too good.

"These jeans must have shrunk," Lucy complained, standing up and patting her chubby bottom. It sounded like hitting a drum. She fumbled beneath her breasts for a moment, her eyes fixed on some abstract point in space, then began working the jeans down her hips. She leaned forward to take them off, her breasts wobbling hugely as they bounced off her thighs. "That's better," she said, lowering her buttocks back on to the bed. She wiped the plate with her final slice of bread. "Don?"

"Yes?" The girl's panties had bunny rabbits on them. Was this what the well-dressed prostitute wore to work these days?

"What's going to happen?"

Donna tore her eyes away from Lucy's backside and stared at the picture of her Daddy on the wall. She experienced a desire to turn it round the other way. "Happen, when?"

"When I run out of your old bras?"

Donna looked at the girl. Lucy's entire attention was focused on her right nipple, which she had manoeuvred into a position where she could see it. It needed both hands and all her concentration. She was chewing her lower lip and wincing as she bent the nipple around between a thumb and three fingers. It was as big as that. Donna felt pleased that her own breasts were lying beside her bottom under the bed covers, out of sight: her nipples wouldn't stand comparison with Lucy's.

"Mum says we'll have to see Mrs Danby again. Both of us."

"Hey, yeah? When?"

"I'm at school every day now. It will have to be the weekend."

"This weekend?"

"I don't know. We'll have to see if she's free. Why?"

"Look at me, Don!" Lucy picked up the discarded bra. "This thing fitted me this morning. I could still get into it now, but my puffies are so sore, it would hurt too much to wear. I don't know how much they're growing every day. Inches don't mean a lot. But if we don't get to see Mrs Danby this weekend, it might be too late."

"Too late?"

"Your bras will have run out. They don't really fit me anyway. I'm a different shape. Mine stick out a lot more than yours." She lowered her breast reverently into her lap and looked around the room. "Ooh, look!"

Donna watched in horror as Lucy got up and fetched her other plate from the dressing table. This time, she climbed on to the bed and leaned her head on Donna's shoulder, the loaded plate between them. "You sure you don't want something to eat? There's probably too much here for me."

That seemed a reasonable enough conclusion. What seemed to be two thirds of a rhubarb pie was flanked by fat slices of chocolate cake. On top of that was a teetering pile of goodies, Mum's most lemony lemon cake, coffee gateau with walnuts and precariously balanced on top, three scones with strawberry jam and whipped cream. Lucy took one, and had to grab another with her left hand when it threatened to fall off. "Have that other scone," Lucy said considerately.

Donna took it in the interest of a quiet life. By the time she had eaten it — Lucy confirming solicitously that it was all right, she was enjoying it — Lucy had finished both of hers and was halfway through a wedge of coffee cake. "I'll never finish all this lot," she sighed heavily, and belched. "That's better! Funny how that always makes room for more."

"Luce!"

"Yeah?"

"You complain that your boobs are getting too big, yet you carry on eating like this. Most of it goes to your chest: your tummy and your bum aren't getting any bigger. Not much, anyway."

"I'm not complaining! They're fine. It would be nicer if they weren't so sore, and if they didn't keep bumping into everything. They get in the way a bit, but not too much." She took a deep breath and held it for a moment before letting her shoulders slump and her breasts droop against her thighs again. "They're heavy."

There had been a time, not so long ago, when Donna would have simply said 'tell me about it.' Now, she found herself wondering if Lucy's might not be just as heavy as hers. Certainly, when the difference in their height was taken into account. Oh, stop it!

Lucy leaned back against the headboard, apparently struggling to breathe. Her breasts still remained resolutely in her lap. "Let's get Mrs Danby to come next Saturday," she pleaded.

Donna couldn't watch. She picked up the bra again. "Is this the one you were wearing today? Do you know how big this is?"

"Nah. I can't think in inches, can I?"

"Just as well you can't!" Donna shook her head in disbelief. If Mrs Danby's scribbled marker pen figures on the inside of the label meant anything — and they were as usual, cryptic — this bra was intended for a bust measuring nearly ninety inches. Surely not! Lucy stuffed the last of the rhubarb pie into her mouth and gathered up her plates with the air of a job well done. It took her some time to get herself off the bed. She said she was going to the bathroom.

Not a moment too soon, Donna thought. "G'night, Luce!" Donna grunted, arranging her breasts in sleeping position and turned out the light.

Less than five minutes later, the door opened and closed again, and the bed creaked as Lucy placed a knee on the edge of it.

"I'm lonely, Don!"

"You're what?"

"Can I come in with you tonight?"

"Use your own bed!"

"Just for tonight, Don!"

"Why?"

Lucy turned back the duvet and slid her bottom on to the sheet.

"I said why?"

"I love you, Don! You're ever so nice to me all the time. You even helped me eat all that stuff."

An icy leg insinuated itself into Donna's personal space. She sighed heavily. "There isn't room for us both in here."

"It's a double bed," Lucy reminded her.

"And we're both double sized girls."

"I'll be careful not to squash your boobs, Don."

"Gee, thanks!"

"Move over a bit."

The nerve of the girl! But apart from her cold feet, Lucy's body was warm and somehow comforting to be near: a trusting, puppylike girl with gigantic and still-growing breasts; who smelled musky and womanish. Donna shuddered, and touched herself. Perhaps if she did it quietly.

Something burning hot was pressing itself against her right breast. It was almost as if she could feel Lucy's tit growing beside her in the darkness.

"How's Project Lucy coming along, then, Mags?"

Maggie looked glum. She had done nothing about it. A week of living with Charlotte had driven all thoughts of Lucy out of her head. The debācle of the three bras was still a painful memory. She would have to start again. Perhaps a call to Laura. Maggie didn't really want to drive down there and risk bumping into Donna again. Not just yet.

"I was going to do something this week, Chief."

"So long as you do. All we've got on young Lucy is that layout with her squirting. We need to follow it up with something else pretty quick. It would be just like that little minx to default to GROSS without so much as a by-your-leave."

That, Maggie knew, would be the end of her career: letting Lucy get away into the hands of the opposition.

Maggie thought Mrs Danby sounded puzzled. No, she hadn't seen Lucy for ages. "I haven't seen her, that's why I called you. I thought you would have. Who, Donna's mum? She's just phoned and arranged for them to come down on Saturday? Donna or Lucy? Both of them? You don't do house calls any more? As busy as that, huh? Erm, while I've got you on the line, I wonder...? How did you guess? No, not much bigger, only another inch or so, but it's enough to make them feel tight. Saturday, then? It will kill two birds with one stone. About eleven, or half past? See you then."

"Mrs Danby? Hi, it's Debbie. Yeah, long time. Not so bad. Oh, he's fine! Great! No, not yet, but he's settled in nicely. He-hee, you dirty old bugger! Course we don't! Oops, I think he might have heard that last bit. Listen, I need to see you. Professionally. I've always got my bras off the peg. Or whatever, off the counter. Standard sizes. Well, near enough. A bit of a tight fit. No, I'm not any bigger, well, not much, but I'd like something a bit more..." Debbie found herself going red. "More ... feminine. I know, who ever heard of a bra that wasn't feminine? Well, I suppose that is the word for it. No, I don't want to. No, you can't make me say the word. No! All right. Sexy! Saturday morning? Okay. What time would you like? Half past ten? Right. Saturday it is."

Debbie put the phone down, still blushing. She jumped a foot in the air when Geoff gripped her shoulders from behind. "What was all that about?"

"Just confirming a delivery. I'll have to come into the studio on Saturday morning to sign for it. Just a few rolls of background paper. I'll stay and do the rest of the processing, so we can have an early finish on Friday. We could get away at lunchtime."

"What for?"

"We can think of something, darling. At least, I can. I'm thinking of it already. Then while I'm out on Saturday, you can get on with that shelf in the kitchen, can't you?"

"Shelf?" Geoff sounded less than impressed. There was always a price to pay, he was discovering.

"Shelf, yes! You get on and do that, and I'll bring home something special for dinner on Saturday night, okay?"

Great idea, Debs. Friday afternoon was a great idea, at least, and so was Saturday night. Saturday morning sounded rather less attractive.

He would have to find a way to wriggle out of that.

"It's Charlotte. Look, Mrs Danby, it's not an emergency, but I need a bra. No, not for me. It's my new nanny. Her name's Alison. Daddy and Mrs Grummit took her on while I was ... elsewhere. I don't know where Mrs Grummit found her. She's just a local girl. Anyway, she's a sweetie, and she's excellent with kids. She's got four of her own and you'd never even know they're there. Most of the time. No, she's only about seventeen or so. Looks even younger apart from her ... well, her you-know-whats! In fact, that's the point: she really needs a bra. I mean, really needs one. Well, yes, she's a bit large. Dumpy. Well-built. Massive tits. Well, more like mammoth. Is that bigger than massive? I suppose it's all the breast-feeding she does. I'll bring her along, then? Fine, what time? Ten o' clock? Darling, I don't even get out of bed 'til ten! Okay, since it's you, I'll try. Saturday, then."

"Geoff? Hi, it's Mags. Yeah, great. Look, are you busy Saturday morning? I've just had a bit of an idea. Well, you'll need a camera and some lights. Excellent! At Mrs Danby's place. No, not as big a job as last time. In fact, Mrs Danby doesn't know. Debbie's what? On Saturday morning? Pity, still, can't be helped. Perhaps she could come along later. What do you mean? A shelf? You? Geoffrey, you are becoming dangerously domesticated. No, I can see you don't want to tell her. About ten, make it half past. Great, see you Saturday."

end Chapter 33