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"I'VE FOUND HER!" Wendy pranced into the classroom and came to a halt, her blouse heaving. Maggie stared at it and sighed. Josie undulated across to the two friends. She leaned negligently on a desk where the boys would be able to look up her skirt without too much effort.
     "What are you getting so hyperventilated about, Wen?"
     "She won't say," said Maggie.
     "You haven't given me a chance yet. I've just run all the way from the IT lab. Everybody's been staring at me."
     Josie grinned and scratched one buttock, accidentally raising the hem of her skirt several inches. "I'm not surprised. You need a bigger bra. Again!"
     "I can't help it if I keep growing."
     Maggie stared at her despondently. "You'll end up like your ex-friend Virginia if you carry on like this."
     "That's what I've got to tell you," Wendy announced, as if remembering suddenly. "She's not ex. I found Virginia."
     "Didn't know you were even looking for her," Josie sniffed. "Have you told Jamie yet?" She glanced over her shoulder to where the boys were sitting in a little group, talking about her, she hoped.
     Wendy blushed. "What's Jamie Andrews got to do with anything?"
     "Oh yeah, sorry! I forgot you weren't seeing him any more. Or is it the other way around? I quite fancy him myself!" Josie spread her legs like a giraffe at a water-hole and purred softly as a throaty growl came from across the room.
     Maggie scowled at her. "Why don't you just strip right off and give them a free show, Jo?" Maggie almost fancied Jamie, too, but she didn't think he liked huge bottoms. In fact, since he had just dumped Wendy for the tenth time, perhaps he didn't like huge tits, either. "Anyway, what about Virginia?"
     "I found her. I was down in the IT lab, surfing..."
     "So what else is new...?"
     "And I thought I'd see if she had an e-mail address at Westhampton University ... and I just typed in her name as a username, and sent a message off ... and what do you think...?"
     "Hang on a sec." Josie perched her bottom on the desk and crossed her legs. The boys groaned. "What did you want to get in touch with her for, anyway?"
     "Because I found this site ... anyway, wait a minute, I was trying to tell you. She answered! She sent this enormous chatty message. She's coming home this weekend. I think she's lonely."
     Josie sniffed. "Lonely, at Westhampton University? With tits like hers?"
     "She's shy. Ginny's not a pushy bitch, like you."
     Josie nodded. "I suppose not. What site?"
     "What...?"
     Maggie drummed her fingers on the desk in exasperation. "You said you found a site, before you wandered off in typical scatterbrained fashion."
     "Oh, that! It was what made me think of Ginny again. You remember the World Cup? In 1998?"
     Josie yawned. "We'd all forgotten that, dear..."
     "You haven't forgotten those pictures, though? Of me and Ginny in my bedroom?"
     "How could we?" Maggie pulled a sour face. "At least, my Dad never mentions them, even though he's still got them on his computer. I reckon he wanks over them every night."
     Wendy looked at her uncomfortably. "You think he does? I don't think I want to come to your house any more."
     "Children, concentrate, please!" Josie uncrossed her lush thighs and swivelled her bottom so she was facing Wendy squarely. "What about this World Cup thing? You'll be telling us next that you've found your pictures on the Net..."
     "I have! That Japanese bloke has got his site running again, and he's been trying to contact Virginia. For months, I reckon. You know that contest for the schoolgirl with the biggest bust in the world? He wanted to find Ginny to tell her about that. Apparently, he's..." She stopped, staring at Josie. "Whaddya mean, our pictures? I only sent Ginny's to this bloke, not mine!"
     Josie suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Nothing! I meant Virginia's pictures, not yours."
     Wendy continued to peer into Josie's flushed face. At last, she shook her head. "If you have, I'll tear you limb from limb..."
     "Honest, Wen!"
     Wendy looked down at her prominent bosom. "That was a whole year ago. I'm lots bigger than that now, anyway!"

Virginia Mackerel zipped her bag shut and took a last glance round her little room. Another week closer to the end of this purgatory. Just her luck to get stuck in a University full of boring geeks. Not a decent boy amongst them. Only one, and he'd run a mile as soon as he caught sight of her tits. Hardly surprising, really. A pity she hadn't kept in touch with that nice boy from school. Jamie. A bit young for her, but mature for his age. In a lot of ways!
     Well, perhaps there was still hope. That message yesterday from Wendy, out of the blue, had brought the memories flooding back. And just two more weeks to go before the long summer break. Maybe she could get together with Jamie again, for old time's sake.
     "I'll find out this weekend," she vowed as she went down the echoing staircase and out of the swinging doors without a backward glance. She headed for the taxi rank. Only fifty yards, but Jeez! Walking was so hard these days. Her feet, her back ... and this bra was like a strait jacket again.
     That was one more reason for Virginia to be going home this weekend, so close to the summer holidays. She had to see Veronica Twizzell as a matter of extreme urgency.
     "Station, Miss?" The driver looked over his shoulder, his eyes starting from their sockets.
     "Yes, please. Will we catch the three nineteen...?"
     "If I put me toe down, we will...!"
     Virginia sighed and clung on to her swaying chest as the taxi lurched on to the main road, then she started counting her loose change.

Wendy's hand hovered above the great big pink tit, then brought it down decisively on the brown nipple. The bell was shatteringly loud in the empty shop.
     "Nobody here." Maggie tugged at her friend's sleeve. "Let's go," she pleaded.
     Josie was gawping at her legs in a full length mirror. Miles away.
     "There's got to be somebody here. It's Saturday morning. Anyway, the shop's open. Listen, I think there's somebody coming."
     "You can't afford one anyway," Maggie whispered. "Look at the price of those over there!"
     "I don't need one as big as that. Mine's only like a 34 double-H or something. It probably doesn't even need to be specially made."
     "Come on, Wen! Get one in Marks..."
     Josie awoke from her reverie. "She can't get double-H bras in Marks and Sparks, can she? Look at those things! Anyway, we were only going to ask how much they are. If they're not too much, your Mum will give you the money. Your Dad might, Mags, if you asked him nicely..."
     "Don't joke about it, Jo..."
     A door opened behind them. "Good morning, ladies! I thought I heard the bell, but when it only rang once, I assumed it was some kids." The girls turned round, open-mouthed. "Oh, I see you are..."
     "I need a bra," Wendy blurted. "Mine's too small."
     The woman looked at her chest. Even beneath an extra huge T-shirt, there was quite a lot of something in there. Three schoolgirls doing this for a dare? One of them with her shirt stuffed with socks? The other two girls were gazing at the ceiling. Veronica Twizzell had seen it all before. "I'm afraid I'm rather busy this morning..."
     Maggie pulled at Wendy's arm again. "Come on, Wen..."
     "No!" Wendy wrenched herself free. "I do need a bra. That's what you do here, isn't it? Specially big bras?"
     "Yes, as you can see. But they're rather expensive..."
     "Mum's paying. I need a specially big one. At least a double-H-cup."
     Veronica smiled to herself. She looked harder at Wendy, who was still resisting Maggie's efforts to drag her out of the shop. If those were socks stuffed in there, they were certainly bouncing quite realistically. Balloons full of water, perhaps? "A double-H isn't very big," she drawled. "But I am busy this morning. I have a client coming in at eleven fifteen."
     "Then we've got ten minutes," Wendy assured her. "Can I try something on for size? It won't take long. And if it fits, I'll go home and get the money off my Mum."
     "I don't carry much stock of ready made..." Veronica faltered and glanced at the clock. "Well, we could take a look at you, perhaps..."
     Wendy turned to Josie in triumph and gave her a thumbs-up. "Mum can afford it, you know."
     "It's not that at all. I do most of my work by appointment. My clients don't suddenly find themselves suffering from large breasts. But come through into the back room."
     "Can I bring my friends?"
     "Of course."
     "No, Wen! We'll wait for you outside..."
     "Nah, come on. We won't be long. Come on through," and Wendy dragged Maggie behind her as she scuttled along a corridor behind the bra woman. Josie followed. She was always quiet when there weren't any boys around. No point in wasting her charms on empty air. They all emerged, blinking, into the workroom, where the woman wheeled round suddenly and unwound her tape measure from around her neck. It was a curiously long one. Even doubled, it hung down almost to the woman's knees.
     "Are you wearing a bra under there?"
     "Um, yeah."
     "Take your T-shirt off, then, please!"
     Wendy hesitated, then began fumbling with the bottom of the shirt, where it hung in loose folds around her thighs. "Right off?"
     "Of course! I can't work through all that lot, can I?"
     "I thought you'd be able to just ... like ... measure over the top..."
     "Look, what's your name...?"
     "Wendy."
     "Look, Wendy. We haven't got long. I'm very busy and a very big customer is coming in at quarter past. Are you going to take that T-shirt off, or are you going to come back with your mother and make a proper appointment? How old are you?"
     Wendy blushed and lowered her hands. The shirt fell back into place, draping itself from the rounded crests of her full boobs. "Nearly eighteen," she mumbled.
     Maggie gasped. "Wendy!"
     "Oh, all right. Seventeen. Nearly." She hung her head. "Sixteen and a half."
     Josie laughed. "Wendy?"
     "Okay, sixteen. Last week."
     Veronica tried not to giggle at this embarrassing Dutch auction. She turned away to consult her appointments book before Wendy got any younger. "I can fit you in on Thursday, after school..."
     "Thursday?" It seemed like for ever.
     "Ask your Mum," Veronica said softly. "She won't bite your head off, don't worry! Now, are you going to show me those things, or not? You might just be a stock size, after all!"
     Wendy made a decision, suddenly tugging the T-shirt up and over her head. Maggie found she couldn't tear her eyes away, even though she was blushing scarlet on behalf of her friend. Josie had found another full-length mirror and was examining her inner thighs. But she could also see Wendy's reflection if she leaned to one side. She leaned to one side.
     Veronica swallowed. "Hmmm. You're right, Wendy. You are at least a HH-cup. You'll have to make an appointment, I'm afraid. Thursday, then?" The pencil hovered.
     "Aren't you even going to measure them? I mean, me?"
     "I don't need to, dear. At a quick glance, I'd say that bra was a 36, probably an H, right?" Wendy nodded. "And you're bursting out of it in all directions. If you had a properly fitting bra on, you'd probably be about a forty-six, forty-seven inch bust. You see? An ordinary double-H or a J-cup might just fit you, but your mother wouldn't thank me if you had to come back in three months' time for another bigger one. You're a very big girl, Wendy, whatever your real age is!" She held out her arms like a woman rounding up sheep. "Right! Off you go, girls. Ask your mother, and be sure to call me ... here's my mobile number ... and confirm that Thursday is okay. Okay? Good! Now, climb back into your T-shirt and I'll see you next week."
     Wendy gasped at this supernatural woman who could measure bras just by looking at them. A J-cup! Or even bigger! That was immense...
     The three friends found themselves out on the street in a matter of seconds.
     "Why did you try and tell her you were eighteen?"
     "If I'd said I was only sixteen last week she wouldn't have believed me, would she?"
     Josie was adjusting her hair in front of the shop window. There might be boys out here, after all.
     Maggie turned up her nose in disgust. "Probably not. Will she want to see your birth certificate on Thursday?"
     "My what? What for? There's no age limit for having tits, Mags. If you've got them, you've got them." Wendy turned to cross the road, then stopped. "Sorry..." she muttered, finding a large woman in her way.
     "Wendy? Wow, it is you! You're so big! Hey, have you just been in there?"
     Wendy looked up at the strange woman. "Ginny!"
     "The same! I'm just going in for a new bra. Have you been in there, too?"
     Wendy shuffled her feet. "D'uh, yeah."
     "Hey, all right, kid! Join the club! Look, I'm late for my appointment. See you later, okay? How about a Big Mac? Twelve-ish?"
     Wendy glanced at her two friends. "Sounds good. See you at twelve, then. The McDonalds in the High Street!"
     They crossed the road in silence.
     "Wow, Mags! Did you see the size of Ginny's tits?"

"Anyway, that's when I tried to find you by e-mail. And it worked!"
     "But you mean Yashimoto had been trying for a whole year to get in touch with me? Why?"
     "It didn't say why on the web-page. He just said he wanted to contact you again. There was your picture, no name, nothing. 'I need to contact this girl again,' it's all it said."
     "How wise not to attempt the accent," said Maggie acidly.
     Virginia was gazing into her Coke, thinking. "Strange. After we sent those pictures, I never heard from him at all. Why should he...?"
     "Maybe you won the contest!"
     Josie nudged Wendy. "Look, there's some boys! Does my hair look all right?"
     "You mean the hair on your head, or the rest of it? In that skirt..."
     "Oh, fun-nee!" She spread her legs a few degrees wider.
     Maggie cringed and turned away from this lewd display. "I wonder who did win that contest, anyway?"
     "The site never came up again. But Ginny was bigger than any of the others..."
     "I'm even bigger now," Virginia sighed, picked up her jumbo cheese-dog, then put it down again. She looked at Wendy's well-filled T-shirt. "Don't ever get to be my size, Wendy. It's no joke."
     "Your size?"
     "You don't want to know, Maggie! Nine inches bigger than a year ago, when we entered that contest."
     Maggie flushed. The thought of growing nine inches in a year. If it had been her, the whole lot would have gone on to her bum.
     "Tell you what," said Wendy. "What's the time in Japan now?"
     "It's still yesterday there," said Maggie.
     Virginia shook her head. "No, they're ahead of us. About nine hours. It's nine o'clock on Saturday night."
     "The night is young." Wendy stood up. "C'mon, you lot!"
     Josie looked up at her. "Where are you off to? Ginny hasn't finished her bun."
     "Maggie's house!"
     "My house? What for?"
     "To use your Dad's computer to send a message to what's-his-face, Yashimoto. I bet he'll be on today. Tonight, whatever it is. He'll get back to us, I bet!"
     "Sounds good to me," said Virginia, standing up. Her stupendous bust cast a giant shadow across the whole table. "I can't eat any more anyway."
     "Can I finish your bun, then?" Josie took it without waiting for permission.
     "You've got to come, Mags. It's your house."
     "Oh, glad you noticed." Maggie stood up and brushed crumbs off her 44-inch jeans. "Come on, then!"
     "I'll stay here," sighed Josie. "I think one of those boys fancies me..."

"He's answered! I told you he'd be online."
     "What's he say?" Maggie grabbed the mouse and clicked every button in sight. "Wow, it's a huge message. He says he can't do chat ... he types English too slowly. But he's been trying to get through to Virginia since last summer..."
     "He can't remember my name," Virginia read, "but he can remember my bust measurement. Huh! That's a distant memory now!"
     "What's in that attachment he's sent?" Wendy demanded.
     "Probably another of my pictures, in case I can't remember what I looked like a year ago."
     "This message is more fun than an old picture," Maggie was still scrolling down the page.
     "Who's this Kimiko he's talking about?" Virginia pointed at the screen.
     "I thought you'd seen that bit. It's his daughter. He's sending her to college in this country, look. Britain offer best opportunity for top support."
     "Not if she comes to Westhampton. They just threw a pile of books at me and told me to get on with it."
     "Let's look at the picture, Mags!" Wendy was getting bored with trying to make sense of Mr Yashimoto's fractured English.
     "Only another couple of miles to read, Wen. She does want to go to Westhampton, Gin. He says Kimiko's been told it's great for Media and Liberal Studies. She wants to be big in the cinema. Hey, you might bump into her next term!"
     "If she survives that, she deserves to do well," Wendy sniggered. "Let's look at the picture now!"
     "You're so impatient." But Maggie was already decoding the picture. "There. That ought to do it."
     They watched as a picture began to draw itself on the screen.
     "Dad wants to get a faster computer, he says, but Mum says she needs a new kitchen first."
     "It's a girl."
     "With black hair."
     "That's not Ginny."
     "Well spotted, Wen."
     "She's Japanese."
     "And again, Wen."
     "She's pretty."
     "She doesn't look old enough to go to college."
     "They all look about twelve, Japanese women."
     "Bloody hell, she's more than twelve!"
     "Look at those!"
     "They're still getting bigger!"
     "There's no end to them!"
     "Fuck me!"
     "She's as big as me!"
     "They're at least as big as yours!"
     "She's nearly as big as Ginny!"
     The computer stopped grumbling away to itself.
     "Is that all of it?"
     "Yeah."
     "You can't see her nipples. Where are they?"
     "Further down. Off the bottom of the picture."
     "Shit, she's fucking gigantic! She is as big as you, Gin! Isn't she...?"
     Virginia was unbuttoning her shirt. "Well, I wouldn't show everyone this, but I think you ought to see just how much I've grown since last year..."

The summer had passed in a whirl, as usual. At the start of it, in late July, it seems to stretch ahead for ever. Then it's August, and it's still weeks to go. But then it seems to speed up, and before you know it, you've only got a few days left. Until now...
     Virginia opened her door and pushed her way inside with her bag. "It's full of new bras, that's why it's so heavy!" She dumped it on the bed and went over to the window. Here until Christmas, almost without a break. She turned away from the familiar scene, the pale stone campus bathed in golden September sunlight, and examined her face in the dressing table mirror. "Ouch, my back!" She sat down. And found the note tucked into the frame of the mirror. Yucky green ink. From Chris, one of the girls from Media and Liberal Studies.

What a stupidly affected way of spelling Chrissie. The number didn't mean anything to her, apart from its having been a close approximation to her measurements of a year or so ago. Grim coincidence.
     Virginia picked up the phone and dialled...
     She was about to put it down after about thirty rings, when it was answered. A breathy voice. Female. "Herro?"
     "Who's that?"
     "Zat Virginia? This Kimiko. Kimiko Yashimoto."
     Not the way Virginia would have pronounced it at all. Different stresses and everything. "Kimiko? Oh, hi! I just got in, and there was this note. How long have you been here? Where are you staying? Not on campus? Are you far away? In the city?"
     "Yes! In city. Father arrange, everything! Nice room, big house. Prenny space. Two bed."
     "A double bed? Lucky thing! Mine's about two feet wide. So, perhaps we'll meet up tomorrow? Later in the week?"
     "We meet. Now!"
     "Now? Later tonight, you mean?"
     "Not rater. Now!" There was a thump as if Kimiko had banged her fist on the table. Virginia imagined her smashing a pile of bricks with her bare hands.
     "Oh. You mean now."
     "Now. Is urgent. Father talk, he send message on Innernet? Talk Wenny?"
     "Wendy? Oh, I haven't seen her for a fortnight. I was away. What did you want to see me about?"
     "Urgent!"
     "Yes, you said that. But what's it about?" Virginia's head was beginning to ache, along with her back.
     "Ah! Foundation."
     "Do what?"
     "Brassiere."
     "Oh, brassiere. What about it. Them."
     "Wanna brassiere now! Mickey!"
     Virginia gave up. With an effort, she avoided slamming the phone down on this appallingly rude girl who talked in riddles. If her life was going to be mixed up with Kimiko's for the next two years, it was going to be even more hideous than it had been for the last twelve months. "Look," she tried once more. "Let's meet somewhere. Not at the college. You know the park in the city centre? Can you get a bus there? Just ask for the park..."
     "A bus? You get brassiere in park? Good!"
     "No, you ... just get to the park, okay? By the lake. I'll see you there in half an hour. Seven o'clock, okay?"
     "Crock. By rake. Seven. Okay," said Kimiko, suddenly cheerful. The dial tone sounded in Virginia's ear. Time to get ready, if she was going to get to the park by seven. How did she get involved in this sort of business. It was like one of those spy movies. Reave bra in horrow tree. Walk away. Don' rook back or we hafta kirra you. Hai!
     "I should have asked Kimiko how I'd recognise her," she thought. As if!

She recognised her easily enough. Mercifully, there weren't too many Japanese girls wandering by the lake at seven in the evening. And if there had been, there still wouldn't have been a problem of recognition.
     The two girls looked each other up and down. And smiled. Cautiously.
     "Let's sit down. My feet hurt when I have to walk..."
     "Good. We sit here. I not walk. Take taxi."
     "Taxi? A student taking a taxi?"
     Kimiko shrugged. "I have money. No probrem. Father have money." They sat down on the grassy bank of the lake, not without some considerable effort. "So. You have brassiere? I mean, bra!" She brought out the word with satisfaction, savouring the crisp sound of it.
     "A bra for you?" Virginia weighed the girl up. "Mine won't fit you."
     "No. Not Ginia bra. Kimiko. Mickey."
     "I'm sorry. Let's start at the beginning. Who's this guy, Mickey? He's English? Can't he help you?"
     Kimiko frowned, a little twelve-year-old frown. "Not guy, Mickey. Father write you get bra. Father write measurement. Two week ago."
     It was making sense. Not a lot, but sense. Two weeks ago, Mr Yashimoto had evidently written and sent Kimiko's measurements, in the forlorn hope that somehow Virginia could get a bra made to fit his daughter. What would Veronica Twizzell have made of a request like that? Here's a bust measurement, make me a bra, woman! Veronica would certainly have enjoyed making a bra in Kimiko's size, though. The girl was enormous! Such a tiny, fragile body, with such gigantic breasts. Even now, disguised by a baggy sweater, they overwhelmed the rest of her in those tiny skin-tight jeans. And her little feet, like a ballet dancer's.
     Virginia picked up a small round pebble and rubbed it between her fingers. Smooth and round. She tossed it in the water. "I haven't seen any letters from your father, Kimiko. Nothing at all. Although even if I had, I don't think my bra maker could make a bra without actually seeing you. What measurements did your father send?"
     "Mine, of course! Bust two hunnerd, thirdy-five. Mickey, too."
     Virginia sighed. Bloody Mickey again! "You could try one of mine." She did some rapid mental arithmetic on that figure of two hundred and thirty-five. "It might fit you. Come back to my room and try one of mine on for size. If it's okay, I can take you to see my lady next Saturday."
     "Not come to your room. See Mickey. Ginia come Kimiko room. Now!"
     "But..."

One advantage of getting involved with Kimiko was that you rode around in taxis. The driver stared at them in his mirror the whole way to Kimiko's room. He even forgot to overcharge them for the trip. Have my card," he said. "Any time you need a cab, call this number, okay?"
     The taxi drove off, leaving them outside a dingy-looking newsagent's shop. "You're staying here? Above this shop?"
     "Not here!" Kimiko clutched Virginia's arm with a tiny hand and wheeled her round to look across the road. "Live here!"
     "You live in there?" The building was an imposing marble palace a thousand miles high, set back from the roadway. An array of improbably long cars sprawled outside.
     "Father arrange everything." Kimiko immediately led the way across the road, holding up an imperious hand to stop the traffic.
     "Hang on, Kim, you can't...!"
     Oh, but she could. The traffic from both directions screeched to a protesting halt. But the drivers weren't protesting once they caught a glimpse of the cause of the hold-up. Two girls with such outrageously, preposterously huge busts, casually sauntering across the road like the Queen of Sheba. Seeing one girl with tits that size was probably a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Two had to be a miracle. Sisters?
     No.
     Absoutely not sisters.
     Her knees trembling, Virginia stood on the footpath as the world resumed its course. She looked up at the exclusive apartment block, then back at Kimiko, who was waiting for her with an inscrutable half-smile on her child's face. "You shouldn't cross the road like that, Kim! We don't do that here."
     "S'okay. I don' do in Tokyo, either. Engrish driver so porite. Stop, watch vast boobs!" She led the way in through the revolving door into an immaculate and spacious hallway. There was an empty reception desk on the right, and a wheelchair parked next to it. Nothing else, no furniture, nothing. No wonder it looked so spacious. A discreet looking porter in a peaked cap stood by a row of elevator doors. He inclined his head and pressed a button, not even glancing behind him as the door sighed open.
     "Fifth floor, Miss Yashimoto?"
     "He knows your name!" The door closed and the floor pushed them up into the sky in seconds.
     "Of course! Father arrange. Everything. You don' give him money when we leave, okay?"
     "Oh, okay."
     Up here, there was carpet that came up to your ankles. It was like walking through a field of cotton wool. Fortunately, it wasn't far to go...
     "Here we are. We go in. Meet Mickey."
     "Mickey lives here? With you? Shit!" Kimiko certainly hadn't wasted any time getting herself fixed up. Maybe Father arrange everything. Virginia tried to do something with her hair. No time. The door opened. Soft music floated out into the hall.
     Kimiko started the guided tour as she led the way in. Here, bathroom. Here, cupboard, no need. This, riving room. Kitchen..." The girl gave a shudder at the very thought of going into a kitchen. "Kimiko bedroom, there. There, Mickey bedroom. Okay?"
     Take careful note. I'll be asking questions later. So they slept in separate rooms. Theoretically, at least. "Where's Mickey now?" There were no signs of male occupation, no football shirts, beer cans, piles of loose change. If there had been a toilet in the living room, God forbid, the seat would have been demurely down.
     "Mickey sreeping. Jet-rag. Wake soon. But I show you..." Kimiko made an elaborate mime of placing a finger to her lips and tiptoeing to the closed double doors. "There," she announced, holding one of them open for Virginia to go inside.
     There wasn't much room in the doorway with two such absurdly gigantic pairs of breasts together at the same time. It took a few seconds for Virginia to disentangle herself from the Japanese girl. Then she found herself in a pale pink bedroom, with a high ceiling, framed landscapes on the walls, doors leading to a bathroom and a walk-in wardrobe ó both with ample evidence of occupation ó and a king-size bed.
     The bed was occupied by a sleeping figure, invisible behind the mounded covers.
     "Go on," Kimiko urged in a piercing whisper. "See Mickey!"
     "I don't want to wake him..."
     "Mickey no wake. You see." A push from behind propelled Virginia to the bedside.
     Mickey was not at all what Virginia expected.
     Her little Japanese face was exquisite as she lay on her back, framed by a soft pillow. The most delicate pale pink shoulders were caressed by the flimsiest of lace nightdresses, as far as she could see above the covers. What was hidden was far more intriguing. Surely. But surely not...?
     She turned to Kimiko, raising an eyebrow.
     Kimiko nodded. "Mickey need bra. Urgent!"
     The sleeping figure muttered something in her sleep, made little wet sounds with her mouth, then gave a sharp little cry.
     Virginia spun round, to see Mickey's eyes open wide. At first, there was a look of panic, of non-recognition, then the girl relaxed, smiled deliciously and tried to sit up. Perfectly naturally, as if she had been doing it all her life, she reached behind her head, grasped the iron rails which formed the head of the bed, and pulled herself into a sitting position. At the same time, the bed covers slipped down to reveal exactly what Virginia had not even dared to imagine. That flimsy nightie concealed a pair of breasts of such stupendous magnificence that she had to look away and rub her eyes in disbelief.
     They were still there when she looked again.
     "Hi, so you must be Virginia?" The voice was unnervingly American. Not a trace of a Japanese accent. "My sister is forgetting her manners again, not introducing us." A tiny hand came out. "I'm Miki. You spell that M-I-K-I, of course. What time is it?"
     Virginia found her tongue. "About half past seven, maybe a quarter to eight..."
     "Wow! You're so English!" Miki pulled her face into an amazing caricature of a retired army colonel. "Harpus sivvin," she intoned. "Hey, I'm gonna just love it here!" She stared at Virginia's bust critically. "You're big, too. Pretty big, anyways. Has Kim asked about a bra for me yet?"
     "Not yet. I thought..."
     "I ask," Kimiko snapped. "I ask three time."
     "It don't matter. Another day or so won't matter a lot. I can get a bra in Westhampton? Like yours?"
     "I don't know. I buy mine at home. A woman makes them for me. But it's a long way away. At least two hours. We could go on Saturday. We can't get there before then."
     "Saturday?" Miki wailed. "But it's only Tuesday now. Have you had a word with this girl, Kim?"
     They lapsed into vigorous Japanese for several explosive seconds, while Virginia stared from one to the other.
     "We go your home," Kimiko announced. "Now!"
     "Do what? I've only just arrived back here. No way are we going home. I've got classes tomorrow."
     "Miki need bra. Now!"
     Miki shook her head. "Hold it, Kim. Virginia's right. She's just arrived. She's tired, I'll bet? We can't make her take us all the way back to wherever, not tonight."
     "Thanks, Miki."
     "Tomorrow will be just fine," said Miki.
     "No, you don't understand. I can't just drop everything, cut classes at the start of the term and trek back home. I can call Miss Twizzell and..."
     "Miss what?" Miki was gazing at Virginia in disbelief. She really was most extraordinarily pretty.
     "Twizzell. That's her name. I could call her and arrange an appointment for Saturday. We could catch the train, and be there in the morning, wait while she makes a bra for you, then come straight back."
     "Ginny!" Virginia felt her tummy turn over. "I can't go on the train! We had to make special arrangements to get here on the plane. I had a wheelchair, everything. The train's a no-no."
     "A wheelchair? That's yours downstairs in the lobby? Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realise ... you're disabled?"
     Miki laughed. "Until I get my bra, I am. How do you think I could walk with these things?" And Miki threw back the last of the covers and half rolled to the edge of the bed. Her immense nightdress wobbled dangerously as she grunted and pushed a leg out from beneath the weight of her ponderous breasts. Then the other leg. She perched on the side of the bed, her legs swinging short of the bedroom carpet, holding on to her mammoth breasts with both little hands. They rested on the mattress on each side of her thighs, while at the same time completely covering her legs right down to her knees. There must have been yards and yards of sheer material in that nightie. "You want me to try and stand up? She demanded. "I can try..."
     "No! Stay there. I see the problem."
     "Honey, you don't see half the problem," Miki sighed. "I could get up, and maybe walk around the apartment. But not for long. What's worse ... what's worst of all ... is my real problem. I haven't had a boy in nearly three days!"
     Virginia gaped at the friendly little face grinning at her. No words came.
     "Ginny, baby. What say we send MacArthur out for a few bottles of beer. We gotta have a little chat."
     "MacArthur?"
     "The porter downstairs. That's his name. At least, if we give him the money for some beers, we know one thing. He shall return."

MacArthur returned, politely appearing at the doorway with a gentle cough and a pack of twelve frosty bottles on a silver tray. There were three tall glasses and even an ice bucket. He drew up a table and laid everything out with discreet efficiency. "Will that be all, Miss Yashimoto?"
     "Thank you, MacArthur," said Miki with a delicious twinkle. She had taken up a somewhat less insecure position now, reclining on the bed surrounded by pillows. She glanced up at him and dismissed the glasses without a word. One felt that if the two of them had been alone, steamy sexual intercourse would have been taking place by now. Given Miki's extreme construction, the choice of position might have been another matter entirely. MacArthur withdrew, closing the double doors behind him.
     "He's nice," said Virginia.
     Kimiko sniffed.
     "Sister Kim has pronounced views on the place of menials in society," Miki whispered. She uncapped three bottles and handed one each to the others. Kimiko slumped into a chair with ill-grace, while Virginia took a corner of the bed, curling up more or less comfortably and taking a swig from the bottle.
     "Right, Ginny. Where shall I start?"
     "At the beginning?"
     "Okay, but it's a long story. You'd better have a couple of these cushions."

Wendy looked unhappy. "My mum just called the school office and left a message. I haven't got to go to Miss Twizzell's this evening. It's been put off until tomorrow. She says she's got an urgent appointment, out of town."
     "Yours is urgent, too," said Maggie supportively. "And you always see her on the second Thursday of every month."
     "Yeah, you might be even bigger by tomorrow," Josie warned. "What were you last time, fatso?"
     Wendy waved her hands dismissively. "Oh, a 38-K, or something. But tomorrow's Friday. Fridays are part of the weekend. What about my date with Jamie tomorrow night?"
     "You haven't got a date with Jamie tomorrow night!"
     "That's not the point! If I had, this would fuck it up completely. Anyway, how do you know I haven't got a date with Jamie tomorrow night?"
     Josie stood up and smoothed her skirt down her thighs. About a third of the way down. "Because I have! Young Jamie's getting more discerning as he matures," she smiled over her shoulder as she swayed off across the classroom.
     "That settles it," Wendy snarled. "I'm going to be a lesbian."
     Maggie edged away. "What, tonight? Or are you going to wait until the weekend?"

"It took ages to find it!" Veronica Twizzell was looking unusually harrassed. "I'm not used to driving long distances. I went three times round the one-way system. I passed the same policeman every time. He only looked about twelve at first, but he must be at least thirteen by now. I'm dreading trying to get home, I really am. Now, where's this Japanese girl and her sister?"
     "They're not here at the college. We have to go by car."
     "Car? You mean I've got to drive again?"
     "I'll show you the way. It's not far."
     "Can't we walk?"
     "No!"
     "Oh. I suppose not. Come on, then, let's get it over with. I've had to close the shop this afternoon."
     "You'll make more this afternoon than you would in a whole week in the shop. These are very special bras. Plus your expenses. Mr Yashimoto is an extremely wealthy man."
     "How special? As big as yours?"
     Virginia considered carefully. "One of them is about my size, but she's so petite, it's a wonder she can even stand up. The other one can't."
     "Can't what?"
     "Can't stand up. She's even tinier, and her bust was ninety-six inches before she was fifteen. She's seventeen now. I hate to think what her bust is."
     "You haven't asked her?"
     "I must have forgotten somehow. She's still jet-lagged and she fell asleep."
     Miss Twizzell's glazed expression clicked reluctantly back into focus. She licked her lips. "We'd better go and find out, then, hadn't we!"

"Where's this MacArthur?" Miss Twizzell whispered as the elevator bore them skywards. "I'm quite disappointed."
     "I thought he'd be here. Maybe he's doing room service, although I don't suppose he'd go out and fetch beers for just anyone. Miki's got him eating out of her hand. And probably a few other places, as well."
     The bra-maker raised an eyebrow. "She doesn't sound like a blushing violet, this Miki."
     "You'll see. To look at her little face, butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. Then she's got these giant tits. And she's desperate for sex. She says she hasn't had a boy since she left Japan. On Sunday."
     "Four days? And she's getting withdrawal symptoms? Ye gods!"
     It hadn't occurred to Virginia that Miss Twizzell might be as sexually deprived as herself. Wasn't anyone getting it regularly at all? They plodded through the carpet to the Yashimoto sisters' door, and Virginia rang the bell. Kimiko opened the door and smiled up at them. At least, she was a bit happier today. An afternoon off Media and Liberal studies probably had that effect on a girl.
     "Come in. Miki in bed." She was obviously still avoiding difficult words like 'asleep'.
     "This is Miss Twizzle. Miss Twizzell, Kimiko."
     "Ah, Miss Twizzaru. How you do!"
     "Pleased to meet you, Kimiko. I hope we aren't disturbing your sister."
     "No, Miki finish soon, okay. Twenny minute. Finish. We go Kimiko bedroom, make bra. Okay?"
     "Oh? Okay." Miss Twizzell put down her bag. Kimiko had disappeared. "Where's she gone?" she whispered.
     "God knows! You think they're on the game or something?"
     "Twenny minute, Micki finish? What else could she be doing?"
     "But they don't need the money. Their dad's filthy rich."
     "This place must be costing him a king's ransom, certainly."
     Virginia smothered a giggle. "You reckon Kimiko's getting rid of a client as well? Imagine having to interrupt an afternoon's trade to get measured for urgent brassieres!"
     Kimiko reappeared, having discarded her T-shirt and jeans in favour of a long robe covered with mysterious Eastern patterns. "Ready now. We go bedroom."
     They shrugged and followed her. No sign of a client. Maybe he slipped out of the window and down the drainpipe. Or escaped on horseback over the rooftops.
     "How you want me?" Kimiko turned round. "With bra on or off. Bra not prenny big for Kimiko."
     Miss Twizzell was on familiar ground. "You can leave it on for now. But perhaps you could take off your ... thing. What's it called?"
     Kimiko tended to disregard some questions. She disregarded this one, but clambered out of the garment in about five seconds, tossing it negligently on the bed and confronting them wearing only a pair of briefs and a bra in matching black. The briefs all but disappeared when she turned to face them. In fact, as she was so short, she appeared to consist of nothing more than a pair of cavernous bra cups with a head perched on top. It was the first time Virginia had seen Kimiko even partially undressed. Undoubtedly, the girl's breasts were far bigger than her own, although her overall bust measurement was probably similar. As if it mattered. Kimiko was so tiny, it was a miracle that she could even stand upright. She moved smoothly to stand in front of Miss Twizzell, facing the window, toying with her hair with one hand. From this angle, Virginia could see both the girl's breasts swelling out an enormous distance to each side of her narrow back. The back strap of the bra seemed to be about six inches deep and came down almost to her waist. How many hooks on that thing...?
     Miss Twizzell gulped. It was her habit to tell each of her customers that theirs was probably the biggest bra she had ever made. This time, it almost certainly was, but she couldn't say a word. Here she was, miles from home, in a luxury apartment, about to measure the biggest pair of tits she had ever seen in her life; and they were attached to a tiny, painfully slim Japanese girl of probably less than five feet tall. She pinched herself. Ouch!
     "Would you like to write the measurements down, Ginny? To save time?"
     Ginny thought she probably would. She took the notebook and wrote 'Kimiko' across the top of the page, her hands trembling. The book had the edges of all the pages cut away so that a list of items written inside both covers lined up with the ruled lines on the page. Each line had a number neatly printed against it.
     "I'll tell you where to write each figure. Just put the measurements down as I call them out. I'll make sense of it all later. Right, let's go! Line one, that's chest under the bust." She wrestled with the tape, getting it around Kimiko's body at the third attempt. "Twenty ... five. I'd better check that again." Grunting, she got down on to the floor and knelt on the carpet. "Yes. It's twenty-five."
     Virginia scrawled the figures in the appropriate space. Her fingers felt like thumbs. Somebody else's thumbs.
     "While I'm on my knees, drop down to line seventeen, near the bottom of the page."
     "Line seventeen? Waist?"
     "Right. And line seventeen is ... seventeen! How convenient. Down to the bottom line, now ó hips ... twenty-seven. Bloody hell! Yep, twenty-seven it is! Some sort of a record is in danger here. Okay, Gin, up to line eight..."
     The numbers followed at baffling speed. Miss Twizzell darted around with the tape measure, increasing in confidence now as she measured Kimiko from every possible direction.
     "What haven't I done?" she asked, blinking up at Virginia.
     "Line two is still blank. And a whole load over on the right hand page."
     "I'll come to those in a second. Okay, Kimiko, arms up, please, and ... it ... is ... ninety-four, Ginny! Wow, she's exactly the same size as you!"
     "She's tons bigger than me, though!" Virginia felt almost sick inside. "Jeezus! 94-17-27!"
     Miss Twizzell was feeling the strain as well. She dabbed at her forehead with a handkerchief. "We'll need the bra off, now, Kimiko, if you don't mind." Her voice was wobbly.
     "Off? But my bust too big. It hurt."
     "It won't take long, dear. And we have to do it, to get the right size. This bra's so tight, it's probably holding you in more than it should be."
     Virginia had to sit on the bed. This was all too much. Her own bra was holding her in more than it should be, too. Especially around the nipples. They felt as if they were bursting.
     "You okay, Gin? It's a bit warm in here."
     It was about to get warmer. Reaching behind her and bending forward from the waist ó she looked to be in danger of snapping in half ó Kimiko efficiently unhooked her bra, slid the wide black straps from her shoulders, and dropped the whole lot on the floor with an audible thud.
     "Hold it there, Kimmy, don't get up yet!" And Miss Twizzell leapt forward to pass the tape round the vast, wobbling sacks of flesh, around their heavy, swelling ends, up their endless sides and across the girl's back where the red marks of the bra were still visible as deep indentations in the alabaster skin. Kimiko remained patiently bent over, her nipples invisible from Virginia's viewpoint, but somewhere on a level with her ankles. The tape was whisked away. "Good girl, now stand up." There was almost a creak as she straightened slowly, then shuffled round on the spot so she was facing Virginia and Miss Twizzell.
     "Oh, my God, Kim!"
     Even though she had turned round with ponderous slowness, Kimiko's breasts hadn't stopped swaying twenty seconds later. They plunged down past her elbows, and presumably past her wrists and her fingertips as well, to rest against her legs, their lowest extremities almost on a level with her kneecaps.
     Without a word, Miss Twizzell took the book and pencil from Virginia's shaking hands, wrote something down on the right hand page, then tucked the pencil into her mouth before taking the last half dozen or so measurements.
     "That's it," she said. "All done, thank you! Put your old bra back on."
     "How big now?" Kimiko asked.
     "You only know about centimetres, don't you?" Miss Twizzell asked shakily.
     "Is better."
     "That's two point five four times ... dum-de-dum-de-dum. With the bra or without?"
     "With. And without."
     "Well, ninety-four inches is two-thirty-nine centimetres. And without the bra, bending over, you're two-eighty-seven!"
     Kimiko nodded her approval. "So! Is good!"