RETURN OF THE GOLDEN GOOSE

by Some Sort of Dog

Chapter 35:- They Grew, Ma'am

"Just lay them on there, dear."

"My boobies? On there?" Alison glared at the Super Bertha with distrust. "What for?"

"So I can measure them properly. It's a special machine to make it easier to measure very big girls."

"I'm not very big. Not like madam."

"Nobody's like madam, dear. But you're still a very big girl."

Sprawled in the overstuffed armchair, Charlotte sighed massively and returned to her glossy fashion magazine. Alison shook her head, but lifted one fat breast and laid it on the measuring platform. She did the same with the other. "I'm leakin'," she pointed out.

"It's all right. I won't take long. Then you can feed the babies."

'Pock.' The flashes went off.

"Ow! What was that?"

"Just Geoff taking your photo, love."

"But I ain't got no clothes on. Only me pants."

"That's all right. Geoff always takes pictures of girls with no clothes on. It's what he does best." Mrs Danby draped her tape measure around the nanny, pursing her lips before writing in her little book. She wrapped it round her waist, then her hips, before returning to take several more measurements around the top half. Flashes went off at regular intervals, each one bringing a squeak of protest from Alison.

"All done! Thank you, dear." Mrs Danby dangled her tape round her neck and stepped back to watch Alison unloading her breasts from the Super Bertha. The flashes went off again.

"Ow! You made me drop me boob." Alison accused Geoff.

"Sorry. I've finished now."

"You can get dressed now," Mrs Danby said.

"Where's me bra? I thought I was getting a new bra. And an overall."

"Jeezus!" Charlotte wrapped the magazine round her head.

"You're not really a stock size, dear," Mrs Danby explained. "Your things will have to be specially made. It will take a couple of days."

"I can't walk around without a bra," said Alison. "Madam said me tits will end up round me knees."

"Not straight away, dear. When did you last wear a bra?"

"Dunno. Couple of years ago, I s'pose."

"A couple of days won't make much difference, then, will it? Put your overall back on, then you can feed the kids."

Alison grumbled petulantly, picking up her overall and slinging it across her shoulder. "Oo's got me babies?" she bellowed, heading for the kitchen.

Debbie blew out a deep breath. "Grief, Charlotte! Where did you find that one?"

"Don't blame me. My housekeeper found her. I was perfectly happy with Jacqui."

"Next please," sighed Mrs Danby. "Debs? You ready?"

"I suppose so. Are all these people going to be watching?"

"We've all seen you nude before," Maggie objected. Geoff blushed and fumbled with his camera.

Debbie dropped her voice to an embarrassed whisper. "I know, but that's different. This isn't the bedroom, it's like undressing in public."

"What's the difference?" Maggie got up and wandered over to the work bench. "Nobody's looking, anyway." She edged closer to the bench and casually turned Mrs Danby's book round so she could see it.

'Alison (nannie),' it said. 'Bust ---38/58, Waist ---35, Hips ---43.'

"I'll have that!" Mrs Danby boomed, snapping the book shut. "That's confidential information in there, young lady."

"I was only looking," Maggie mumbled, blushing deeply.

"I know. Now, Debs, dear. Can you manage, or do you need a hand with them? Load them up on the platforms. What our Maggie doesn't seem to realise is that very dangly girls like yourself can give a very high Bertha reading. If she starts peeking at my little book, she'll get excited by the numbers and start booking you for a modelling session for her smutty magazine.

Maggie glanced over at Debbie, who looked strangely vulnerable with her long breasts dangling on the measuring platforms of the Super Bertha. They exchanged embarrassed little grins.

Charlotte belched aristocratically and put down her magazine. "You've stopped taking pictures, Geoffrey-boy! What's up? Scared Duncan will see Debbie in the nuddie and have a fit of the wobblies?"

Geoff hung his head and muttered something about being short of film.

"Leave the boy alone, Char," said Maggie. "You can see he's in love."

"All done, dear," said Mrs Danby, who had been quietly busy through all the banter. "Don't put your top back on just yet. I've got something on the shelf that might just fit." She took her step ladder and rummaged, finally bringing down a teetering pile of boxes. The top half dozen or so fell off, setting everybody coughing as a cloud of dust billowed up. "I must do something about this place one of these days. Now." She selected a box and blew a mushroom cloud of dust off the lid. "This ought to do it. Try this one on. It's all right," she said, as Debbie hesitated. "It's quite a sexy one!"

Debbie removed the lid and took out a shiny black satin bra, the top halves of the cups were black lace. Heavy, no-nonsense shoulder straps led to a broad, six-hook body band, yet the generous cups made the rest of the bra look almost delicate.

"Will this fit me? Surely it's too big."

"Try it."

Debbie fiddled about with it for a while, embarrassed with everyone watching, then she lowered her breasts into the cups, bringing a word of approval from Mrs Danby.

"Oooh. Oh, my gosh! It feels funny. But marvellous!"

Mrs Danby hurried forward and adjusted the shoulder straps, hefting one of Debbie's breasts from beneath with one hand. "How does that feel now?"

"It's tremendous, Mrs Danby. I can't believe... just to think, I've being walking round all these years trussed up like a chicken."

"What do you think of your lover, young Geoffrey?" Mrs Danby beamed. The bra really was an extraordinarily good fit.

"Oh?" Geoff turned round as if seeing Debbie for the first time. "Very nice."

"Are we there yet? They're really sore!"

"Oh, for crying out loud, Luce! Stop going on about your sore boobs. We're there anyway. This is her place." The car nosed along the drive. "This can't be right!" Donna stopped, looking for somewhere to park.

"Whose are all these cars?"

"Only one of them's Mrs Danby's. That's Maggie's. That one's Geoff's. I don't know the others. There's no room. I'll just leave it here." The engine rattled and stopped. "Come on."

"They're still sore..." Lucy stopped herself just in time, opened her door and got out, stretching her legs and back, looking round her with interest. "There's a man sitting in that one," she whispered urgently as Donna locked the doors and came round to her side of the car. "There, in that van thing."

The man was watching them in his rear view mirror. He saw them looking and turned his attention exaggeratedly elsewhere.

"He was looking at my tits," Lucy gasped.

"Of course he was. What else would you expect?"

"It makes them sore when people look at them." Donna stared at Lucy in exasperation and led the way to the front door.

"Your turn, Maggie!"

"It can't be! Can't you do me afterwards?"

"I've done everybody else. Come on, we're all girls here."

Geoff fumbled with his lens and tried to look inconspicuous.

There was no escape. Everybody was looking at Maggie. She smiled and blushed at the same time, then began to tug her T-shirt out of her waist. "I've got dirt on the front of this," she said.

"We know." Charlotte rubbed her hands together. She had been the one who had had the most recent view of Maggie without her clothes on. It had been a spectacular sight.

"Shit, there's somebody at the door."

"It will be Donna and Lucy." Maggie stopped undressing. The cavalry had arrived, just in time.

"You carry on stripping," said Mrs Danby, enjoying the moment. "Kay will answer the door."

The cavalry galloped past and headed off into the distance. Maggie hesitated, then her hands came up, pulling the T-shirt up over her head. She got it off, then stood with her arms folded in front of her trying to look as if she was waiting for a bus.

Mrs Danby plucked the T-shirt from her grasp and looked her up and down. "We can't measure you with a bra on, dear. Especially a bra that's three sizes too small. Off with it!"

Maggie glanced helplessly toward the door, but the cavalry were nowhere in sight. Not even the sound of a bugle. She reached behind her and unfastened the hooks.

"Come on in, girls. We're expecting you."

"Hi, Kay. Wow, you got a new baby? This is Lucy."

Kay changed Bobby from one arm to the other. He was getting heavy. Babies must get heavier when they got wet. "This is Charlotte's new nanny's little Bobby," she said confusingly. Kay got a better look at Lucy and her eyes widened. "And hello, Lucy!"

"Hi. There was a man looking at my boobs," she said, registering her complaint with the management.

"I'm not surprised, love. They are a bit big. Even for Mrs Danby's place."

Lucy didn't look very reassured. "They hurt. Around the ends."

Kay exchanged glances with Donna. They both rolled their eyes.

"Come on in. We'll miss all the fun. Mother-in-law's measuring Maggie."

They crept in unobserved, which certainly made a change. Mrs Danby was scratching her head. "I don't know. You're so firm and full, I hardly need to put you on the Bertha. Let's try you the old fashioned way." She draped the tape round the blushing Maggie. "Hold the tape on your nips while I see what it says. There. Ready?"

"Yes. Be quick. I'm going to sneeze. It's all this dust still floating around..."

"Okay. Done!"

Maggie sneezed. The effect was breathtaking. "Ouch! That hurts!"

"That would've hurt me, too," Lucy whispered to Donna.

"Sshhhh!"

Mrs Danby studied the numbers on the tape. "I think you'd better go on the Bertha, Mags, just to be on the safe side."

"I'm not big enough," Maggie insisted, blushing.

"It makes no difference how small you are. Anyway, you're hardly small."

"You're as big as any of those erotic dancers, Mags!" Charlotte shouted coarsely. "Are you sure you haven't gone and had implants? I'm going to tell Mr Cunis to investigate."

Maggie rested her breasts on the measuring platforms. They were a splendid sight, supported like that: almost spherical, their alabaster surface marked by startling red weals where the far-too-tight bra had been compressing the plump flesh.

Despite themselves, the onlookers were impressed. Only slightly chubby, Maggie's figure was truly voluptuous. Debbie noticed Geoff staring at Maggie and squeezed his hand. Hard. That's enough of that!

Mrs Danby twirled the tape from her neck like a circus ringmaster with his whip. "Everybody ready?" she announced. An enthusiastic chorus of howls and catcalls went up, and Maggie cringed.

"Hips first!"

"Yeah! Let's hear it for her hips!"

"Hips ... Thirty-eight. And a half!"

"A half! Don't forget the half!"

"The waist!"

"Yee-hah!" They had been watching too many American movies.

"Twenty-seven!"

"Ooooooooh!" Maggie looked ready to drop through the floor.

"And the bust. The Big One!"

Silence fell. People wet their lips, or tried to. The tape passed round Maggie's bust again. This time there was no sneeze.

"Golly!" Mrs Danby peered at the tape. "Is that right? Gosh!"

"What is it?"

"What's it say?"

"Get on with it!"

Geoff, urged on by Debbie, crept in close with the camera. Mrs Danby pointed to the tape with her mouth open in awe. The flash went off.

"You're a big girl, Maggie!"

"What does it say?"

"Come on, Mrs D!"

"Fifty-mflmfmf!"

"How many?"

"Fifty-what?"

"Fifty-five!"

"Wheeeee!"

"All RIGHT!"

"Way to go, Mags!"

"You're in luck, Margaret. I think I've got one in stock just your size!"

The applause was deafening. Everybody joined in. Maggie, after all, had been a good sport. The noise even brought Alison out of the kitchen with a couple of her children. She took in the happy scene, then her eyes settled on Lucy.

"You!" she gasped. "What the fuck are you doing 'ere?"

Lucy turned and saw her. "Ally!"

"That's me. Who invited you here?" The nanny glowered at Lucy, then her eyes seemed to register what she was seeing. "An' what the fuck's 'appened to your tits?"

Lucy looked down at them. They were still there. "They grew," she said inadequately. "They're still growing. They're sore."

The audience, aroused by the measuring of Maggie, were ready for more stimulation. They turned to the outskirts of the room; saw Alison, red-faced and accusing; Donna, chewing her fingers; and Lucy, perched on the work bench with her feet swinging. Even with her breasts reasting in her lap, Lucy was clearly gigantically developed.

"Christ, Luce!" Charlotte half-gasped, half-bellowed. "Where did you get those things?"

"They grew, ma'am."

"What are you calling her ma'am for?" Alison demanded. "You don't work for her."

"I used to work for her. I work for Donna's mum now."

Charlotte glared at the quarrelsome duo. "Who do you think you're talking about, the cat's mother?" She eased her bulk out of the overstuffed armchair and lumbered across to the scene of the action. "How do you two know each other, anyway?"

"Know each other?" Alison was indignant. "She's my little sister!" She snorted. "Little? Huh!"

"Sister?" Charlotte peered into the two faces, Alison's angry and affronted, Lucy's horrified and embarrassed.

"Is that right, Lucy?"

"Of course it's right," Alison stormed. "I ain't a liar!"

"Let Lucy answer."

Lucy nodded dumbly.

"That fucking Mrs Grummit," screamed Charlotte, to everyone's surprise. "I'll sack the bitch." She flung an arm out and pointed to the kitchen door. "Out, you!"

"Me?" Alison gasped.

"Yes, you! Out in the kitchen!"

"Why don't you ask her about her kid? Chunia?"

"Out!"

With a final glare of sisterly hatred at Lucy, Alison turned and trotted for the kitchen, Carl under her arm, Fiona toddling along behind. Charlotte followed, her face like thunder. The door closed after them with a solid thud.

"Wow!" Debbie broke the silence.

"You're her sister?" Maggie took up the inquisition, forgetful of her own glorious toplessness.

Lucy nodded again.

"What was she saying about a kid? Chunia's yours?"

"It's all lies," Lucy mumbled.

But Maggie had obviously had another far more sinister thought. "Alison's your older sister?"

"Yeah."

"How old is she?"

Lucy thought for a moment. "Twenty-two," she said eventually. Somehow, her reply lacked total conviction.

"She'd better be!" Maggie whirled away and was suddenly reminded of her state of undress. Something to do with centrifugal force. Whirling was not a good idea. She started hunting for her T- shirt.

"She is, ma'am!" whimpered Alison tearfully. Her unfettered bosom heaved and wobbled in her far-too-tight overall, jiggling with every sob. "The bitch is my little sister. And what's happened to her tits? They used to be little tiny things, no bigger than melons."

"She's your kid sister? And what was all that about Chunia being her kid as well?"

Petunia looked up at them from the floor. She couldn't see their faces from down there, but she knew who it was. She listened carefully, while continuing to compile a succession of indescribably vulgar words from the magnetic letters on the door of the fridge.

"She is. She had Chunia when she was no age at all, the little slut."

Charlotte manoeuvred her bulk in a half circle so she could see Petunia. The child waved her fingers at the mistress and added another word even more disgraceful than the rest.

"You don't spell it like that, Petunia," Charlotte boomed.

"Mummy said that's right." The girl looked at the word, rearranged the letters, then put them back the way they were before.

"It is right," said Alison.

"It's not! It's got a double N."

"No it hasn't."

"I ran out of N's," said Petunia. "I used them all up doing ONANISM."

"There are some more letters in that box on the fridge."

"I can't reach up there."

Charlotte took the box of letters and handed them down.

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Good girl. Carry on."

Petunia happily amended the word and set about proofreading the rest of the door.

"It still doesn't look right," Charlotte sighed.

"It's one N. I told you."

"No, it has to be two. Like Lady Cunninghame."

"What's she got to do with it, ma'am?"

"You'd be surprised. Who taught her all these words, anyway?"

"Mrs Grummit."

"Ah yes. Mrs Grummit. I'm going to have a serious word with her about hiring you. If you are Lucy's sister, that is."

"Of course I am. And Gabriel's our uncle. That's not his real name. He was shagging Mrs Grummit."

"I don't wish to know the sordid secrets of your below-stairs existence. Where?"

"Where what?"

"Where was he shagging her?"

"The usual place, I imagine," said Alison, surprised. "We're ordinary working people, not toffs."

Petunia obligingly spelled out the word ANAL and rummaged through the box again.

"Where did he do it?" Charlotte persisted with patrician doggedness. "In the kitchen?"

"What, over the Aga, amongst the pots and pans? Mrs Grummit's a hot-arsed bitch, but I don't think even she could stand bein' screwed on top of the stove. Probably on top of the washin' machine. That's my favourite. I've done it on there wiv the milkman."

Petunia had already applied VIBR... to the door. She had to attack her MASTURBATION to continue.

"The milkman?" Charlotte wondered if he was any good. "When?"

"Every day. Most days, anyway. Why?"

"Oh, nothing. He probably comes too soon for me."

"No, he's pretty good. He calls back about twelve when he's finished his round. I'll send 'im up to your room if you like when I've finished with him. His name's Dennis."

Charlotte tried to imagine doing it with somebody called Dennis. She sighed heavily. It might not be too bad.

"May I be excused, ma'am? Only my tits are gettin' enormous. The milk's comin' in, and I've got to feed Bobby."

"All right." Charlotte watched as Alison unbuttoned the last of her overall and lobbed out two immense dribbling udders. They seemed to have doubled in size.

"Where is the little bugger, anyway? 'E usually smells it and starts yellin' 'is 'ead off."

Right on cue, a siren wail started up, and Kay came into the kitchen, bearing a hungry child. She stared at Alison's exposed chest. It looked appallingly rude. They were among the smallest breasts in the house today, but so well-used and battered by fair wear and tear, they made Alison look at least twenty. Bobby didn't complain. He latched on and started sucking. Alison moaned loudly, closed her eyes and began enjoying what was clearly an orgasm of some intensity.

"We'd better leave her to it," Charlotte shouted over the din. "Come on, Petunia, let's go out and watch the ladies having their bosoms measured." She held out a hand, and Petunia got up willingly, adjusted her knickers, sniffed her fingers, corrected the spelling of ORGASM and followed Charlotte and Kay out of the kitchen.

end Chapter 35