A Village in Time (Modified)
Chapter 1

Caution: This Humor Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft, Ma/ft, mt/Fa, Consensual, Heterosexual, Time Travel, Historical, Humor, Incest, Brother, Sister, Interracial, Black Female, White Male, White Female, Oral Sex, Petting, Exhibitionism, Size, Big Breasts, Public Sex, School,

Desc: Humor Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Darren and Kevin have seen 'Back To The Future' and should know better than to go messing with time. But when the lads get lost on a country road and their car runs out of fuel, they meet this woman...

"AT LAST, a bit of clear road. We can make up some time." Darren put his foot down and glanced at his watch. "We'll make it by one thirty at this rate."

Kevin was frowning over the road atlas. Another signpost flashed past and he turned the map upside down. It didn't help. "That's all very well, but this isn't the right road. I think we ought to be further over that way. More to the south." He waved a hand out across the bare hills on the left.

The car continued to accelerate as if with a will of its own down the almost empty road. "You said this was the right way," Darren insisted.

"No, I said the other way was the wrong way. When we came out of Dulchester? Where they were digging up the road, and that bloke waved us to turn right? They've changed the road layout. It's not the same as the map any more."

"You mean you've gone and lost us!"

"I haven't lost us. You should have slowed down while I was trying to find the right way round the ring road. We're going to have to go back."

"Back? Back into Dul-fucking-chester? You've got to be havin' a laugh! This is a good road, we'll carry on along here. There'll be a turning sometime." Darren mashed his right foot into the carpet and they surmounted a hilltop at seventy. There was a moment of zero gravity as they hurtled over the top. Kevin wanted to ask his friend to slow down but it wasn't a cool thing to do.

Ahead, the road stretched like a black ribbon to the horizon. Kevin rotated the map again. "There isn't anything, not for ten miles. By then, we'll be forty miles off course. Look!"

Darren looked. Kevin, eyes widening, snatched the map away.

"Look where you're fucking going... !"

"You told me to look at the map!"

"I meant stop first! And since when did you take any notice of anything I said?" Uneasy silence fell. The car continued on its course for a further three or four miles, at a noticeably reduced pace.

Kevin shook his head. "This is no good. Pull in here and let's work out where we're going." There was a parking place by the roadside. Not a sign of life, unless you counted the sheep, and everyone knew what happened when you counted sheep. Darren pulled in and turned off the engine. With a superior air, he took the map.

"Right, where are we?" he demanded with a sigh.

Kevin jabbed a vague finger. "Just about here."

"And where should we be?"

"Down there."

"That's fucking miles away!"

"That's what I've been trying to tell you for the last twenty minutes."

"We can't waste petrol going back," Darren insisted stubbornly. "What's the scale of this map?"

"Four miles to the inch."

"There's probably a road we can take. A small one that's too small to show up on this map. Let's take the next turning on the left, and it will bring us out down there somewhere."

"We'll be late. Hadn't we better warn the others?"

"We'll catch up with them once we're on the other road. You've probably only cost us half an hour or so."

"I've only cost us... ?"

Darren had already started the engine and they roared out on to the road in a spurt of gravel. "We can call Chris on his mobile and tell him we've been delayed. A flat, or something. Or we got held up by an accident. We'll call from the next garage."

"Garage?" Kevin surveyed the landscape. "Where?"

"There's bound to be one. We'll be needing some petrol, anyway."

Kevin tried to lean across and see the fuel gauge, without making it too obvious. He stretched his arms above his head and yawned elaborately. Darren hunched forward over the wheel and pretended to rub at something on the glass of the instrument panel.

"How much petrol have we got?"

Darren pretended to glance casually at the instrument panel. "Oh, 'bout a quarter of a tank," he said airily. "Maybe a little less. Probably more. Next garage, we'll get some more."

They barrelled on, over another hill. The road, which must have been the pride and joy of some Roman Emperor a couple of thousand years ago, kinked several degrees to the right and headed off even further in an even more wrong direction. Both lads decided it would be diplomatic not to mention the fact.

"Here's a turning coming up," Kevin pointed out. "Next on the left, you said."

"Got it. I told you there'd be something. It isn't on the map, is it?"

Kevin had already checked. "No. How do we know it goes anywhere?"

"It's got to go somewhere." They had reached the turning. It wasn't a particularly wide road, but it was broad enough for two cars to pass comfortably. Or maybe not comfortably.

"Did you see the signpost? Where did it say it went?" Kevin bent over the map again. According to his calculations, there shouldn't be anything around here, just open countryside.

"Couldn't see. There was something in the way. A tree or something. Never mind, it's got to lead us somewhere."

It seemed unlikely. There were no signs of habitation ahead, no houses, no church steeple. The road trundled on into the wilderness, between high hedges. It wasn't quite as wide now.

"There'll be a garage soon," Darren announced.

The road had dipped suddenly and begun a winding descent into a valley. The surface had become pock-marked and pot-holed, and a strip of grass was starting to appear down the middle, where no wheels ever ran. It was a single car's width now. If they met anyone coming the opposite way, someone was going to have to back up half a mile or more.

"What was that?" Kevin asked, as the engine gave a splutter before picking up again.

"Nothing. Just a misfire. A bit of dirt in the carburettor, probably. We'll be okay when we fill up. There's got to be a village down here. Stands to reason."

"It does?"

"We're going down into a valley, right? A road goes down into a valley, there has to be a river at the bottom of it, so there'll be a bridge ... and where there's a bridge, there's bound to be a village." Darren's geography teacher would have had tears of pride in her eyes at this moment.

"If it gets much narrower, we'll get wedged in like a cork." The bushes were brushing along both sides of the car by now, flicking at the mirrors as the wheels bounced through deeper and deeper holes.

Then they rounded a bend, and a tranquil scene opened up.

"See! What did I tell you?" Darren slowed the car to a halt on a patch of smooth grass bordering a narrow river. Or maybe it was a broad stream. Either way, there was no bridge leading to the village which seemed to be nestling up the hill on the further bank. Instead, the roadway disappeared into the water, its course marked by two lines of large stones. The stream flowed busily across the gap. "A ford. It doesn't look too deep, even with the rain we've had this week." He drove cautiously into the water and they lurched across to the other side. "It gets into the brakes, you know," Darren explained. "I'll drive for a bit with my foot on the brake pedal..."

"You won't be driving anywhere," Kevin pointed out. "Not until we open that gate."

It was a big wide five-bar gate, and it was shut. Two stout oak gate posts looked as if they had been there for centuries, and this damn great gate completely blocking the way into the village street.

"What's up with them? Have they got a thing against tourists? Nip out and open it, Kevvo!"

Kevin climbed out and examined the gate. It was secured with a fat chain and a daunting padlock. The whole ensemble was apparently rusted solid. He tugged at it experimentally for a few seconds, then shook his head. Behind him the car engine had stopped. The only sound was the rushing gurgle of the waters, the echoing of birdsong and the dull rattle of the chain as Kevin tried once more. He gave the gate a kick. It stayed shut. Then came the whinnying of the starter motor as Darren tried to start the engine again.

"Fucking won't go," he said needlessly after about three minutes. "Must be water in the ignition."

"Or it's out of petrol."

"It has not run out of petrol!" Darren tried again. Nothing. "There'll be a garage in the village."

"Or a village blacksmith," Kevin suggested. "We'd better push it back off the road. Sit tight and steer, I'll roll you back under those trees..."

"Like one of those Wild West ghost towns." Their footsteps scrunched on the gritty roadway of the village street. There weren't many houses yet, although there seemed to be more buildings ahead, round the bend. And above them, through the trees, a church tower.

"There'll be a pub, anyway," said Kevin. "What's the time?"

"Nearly ten. You can't be thirsty yet!"

"I'm not thirsty. They'll have a phone so we can call Chris. And they can tell us where this garage of yours is. Shit, imagine living in a dead-and-alive hole like this! What do they do all day?"

"What do who do all day?" Darren shook his head. "There's nobody here."

"No, there's somebody." Kevin strode ahead, waving to the woman who had come out of one of the cottages on the bend in the road. "Hang on. Excuse me!"

They both stopped. "Just our luck. We find the only inhabitant and she's a nutter."

"A religious nutter. She crossed herself before she ran away."

They approached the woman's cottage. A curtain twitched, then they heard the sound of bolts being drawn across the door.

"There you go," said Kevin shakily. "Welcome to sunny Wherever!"

"Let's go. Find this pub. Now you've come to mention it, I'm getting a thirst myself."

"You're driving, remember..."

"Not until we get that car going. Or unless..."

"They'll be mad at us. The first game on tour and they'll be two men short. We'll be fined pounds and pounds for being late!"

"Assuming we get there at all..."

"Maybe it will rain and they won't play," said Kevin comfortingly.

"Chris will still fine us. Those old buggers! We're the only two young ones on the team. Shit, it will cost us more than the petrol for the journey."

This thought stayed with them as they progressed up the village street. It was sloping steeply upwards now, climbing out of the river valley, but there were encouraging signs of life ahead of them. A farm cart was parked on the left side of the street, backed against a hefty rock to prevent it running away down the hill. Two patient horses were taking an early lunch between the shafts, lazily tossing their heads in their nosebags. On top of the wagon, which was laden with bulging sacks, a man in a broad-brimmed hat was reclining, chewing at a long straw to prove he was working, not asleep.

"Do you reckon he's real?" Kevin asked.

"This is a Monday, isn't it?" Kevin looked at Darren curiously. "I was just wondering if they're holding an Olde Fashioned Country Fayre. But not on a Monday." He shouted to the man. "Hey, mate! Where's the garage?"

The man stirred, looked around, then sat bolt upright. His hat fell off, revealing a shock of corn-coloured hair standing rigidly on end. "Wha ... what... ?"

"The garage? Is there a garage round here?"

"Or a pub," Kevin suggested. "Is the pub up this way?" The man looked totally blank. The boys stared at each other and shrugged. "Prithee, my fine fellow," Kevin tried again. "Is there an ale-house in this estimable village? An inn?"

"An inn?" Comprehension dawned. The man regarded them with an expression of deepest alarm. "To be sure, aye. 'Tis yonder. Behoind the church, at the sign of the Golden Lion. But there'll not be toime for quaffing ale at this hour. 'Tis haymakin'."

"Shit," Darren muttered. "Is he for real?"

"Thank you, my man," Kevin called, and dragged his friend away up the street.

"What's up?"

"I dunno. But there's something weird about this place. Did you see his clothes?"

"Course I did. Fancy dress..."

"Fancy dress my arse. That was the real thing. Come on, let's find this Golden Lion."

The doors were shut, as promised. Kevin rapped on the polished brass knocker, in the shape of a lion's head. When you raised the knocker and lowered it, the beast's tongue went in and out. It looked unnervingly sexual.

"Nobody here, like he said..."

"There has to be someone here, if it's a pub." Darren shaded his eyes and peered through a window. "They'll be cooking, or something."

"You gen'lmen looking for something? Or someone?"

They turned, surprised at the female voice. It was a motherly-looking woman, smiling at them in an engaging way. An attractive, short and very buxom woman with knowing eyes. Despite looking motherly, she gave the impression of not being as old as she looked at first glance. The expression "a comely wench" sprang unbidden into the boys' minds. She was the kind of auntie that young lads often had wet dreams about being seduced by. She looked them up and down, and her gaze narrowed.

"Ah, you'll be a couple of them, I reckon."

"You what?" Darren started indignantly.

"I beg your pardon?" said Kevin.

She laughed, her face lighting up. "Ah, you are! You'd better come along with me before a crowd do gather. I daresay you won't refuse a drink from old widow Capstick?"

"A drink?"

"Not a poison potion, never fear, lads, although there do be those as calls me a witch." She led the way down a narrow alleyway that ran beside the bulging stone wall of the pub. "'Tis just down this way a step. I can offer you a jug of mead..."

They followed her serviceably broad rump, more out of curiosity than hope. The alleyway led to a whitewashed cottage, set in an open space away from other houses, and sparkling in the sunshine. The whole of one wall was completely covered in some kind of climbing plant with white and purple blooms. The front garden was ablaze with flowers, and bees moved heavily around, doing their business. The front door stood invitingly open. She took them inside.

"Now then," she said, scurrying out of the room and returning with two large mugs and a stone jar covered with a cloth. "Where you from, boys? Not from round these parts, to be sure!" Her more than generous bust swung heavily in her blouse as the pale golden liquid glugged into the mugs. Considerably more than generous.

"Udderleigh," said Darren.

"Just this side of London," said Kevin, in his role as navigator. He accepted a mug and sniffed it cautiously. It smelled of summer afternoons. "We're on our way down to a cricket tour in Devon."

"I heard tell of Lunnon," the woman said. "But Devon? A fair journey. You'd not be walking all the way... ?"

"We left at eight this morning," said Darren. He sipped his mug, not knowing whether to cough or belch. He settled for wiping his eyes. "But Kevin sent us the wrong way out of Dulchester."

"The roadworks," Kevin explained. The widow Capstick stared at them blankly.

"You left Lunnon this morning? Or last night? On horseback? No, not in those clothes. Where's your carriage?"

"The car? Down by the gate, just this side of the river." Darren waved a hand at the window, to where the village street could be seen winding down the hill. "It's run out of petrol," he admitted to Kevin's surprise.

"That's why we were looking for a garage. Or a phone. Could we use your phone to call our team? We'll pay you for the call..." His voice died away. Clearly, Mrs Capstick had not the slightest clue as to what he was talking about.

"Forgive me, young gentlemen. I've met people like you before. Last year, before the harvest, there was a stranger. A man. Quite a bit older than you two." She inspected them frankly, making them feel distinctly uncomfortable. "The rest of the village ... they don't understand. Well, I don't understand, but the others ... A curse, they calls it. A curse."

Kevin nodded. "There was a woman down nearer the river. She crossed herself and ran indoors. Then she bolted the door."

The widow nodded. "Betsy Huggins," she smiled.

"And there was a bloke on a wagon, chewing a straw..."

"The men are away in the fields," said Mrs Capstick. "And some of the women, too. The others stay indoors when they spy strangers. The children are in school."

Kevin raised an eyebrow. "School? Isn't it the summer holidays? It's August."

"There bain't more'n a few on 'em," the widow continued obliquely. "Vicar's wife does the schooling. Daniel's boys, and then there's the brood from the farm. Sam'l Tompkin's lads. Young Jem, an' Hector, an' the maid Sally from the Lion. Maggie Arthur's three. Young Charity." She made a curious gesture with her arms, holding them out in front of her as if she were holding an invisible barrel of beer. "And there's my girls, of course..."

"One woman teaches them all? Are they all the same age?"

"Bless you, no! My lasses are fourteen, but they do carry on their schooling. They shall stay at school until 'tis their time to do the teaching themselves. "You'll stay for a bite of dinner? There's bread and honey. Maisie and Maud shall be home when the church clock do strike twelve. If they don't see you, they will be that curious my life'll not be worth a brass farthing. They don't see many young men like yourselves, you see."

"I don't know," Darren said slowly. "We ought to be making tracks, if we can get some petrol."

"But some bread and honey does sound nice," Kevin nudged his pal. Mrs Capstick brightened instantly.

"I sh'll be getting it ready, then. And we've a mutton pie, if you're famished. No, sit and finish your drinks, I can talk to you from the kitchen."

She bustled out.

"What are you on about?" Darren demanded in a fierce whisper. "We can't sit round here eating jam butties all day."

"And mutton pie. But what else can we do? You won't find any petrol, not here. Besides, I thought you said it was water in the ignition."


The church clock began to strike the hour.




"That clock's fast!" Darren shook his watch. "It's not even eleven yet..."

But there was no time for Kevin to reply. The back door banged open with a clatter, and an excited babble of voices sounded from the kitchen. And there at the kitchen door stood the widow Capstick, beaming proudly. "I don't even know your names yet," she apologised. "But you must meet my little girls..."

"Oh, Mama!"

"Mama! Little?"

"This is my Maisie, and this is my Maud."

Kevin and Darren gasped, their mouths remaining open. No words would come out. They stared at the girls, golden-haired twins, at something considerably less than five feet tall, they weren't even as tall as their mother.

But Maud had been right. 'Little' was not the right word. Not the right word at all.

"We have to get back to our classes," sighed Maisie.

"We sh'll be home by the time the church clock do strike five," said Maud. "You'll still be here... ?"

"We'll be gone by then," Darren shook his head regretfully. "We'll need to walk to the next village and get a can of juice. Probably have to buy an empty can, as well."

"Juice?" The twins looked at each other. "Mother can give you some juice. Apples... ?"

"Petrol," Kevin said desperately. "You've heard of petrol! Cars run on it. Maybe the farmer's got some? You could ask the kids from the farm..."

"The kids?" Maud giggled. "You're so funny, Keff!" She still had difficulty saying the unfamiliar name.

"You aren't really leaving us," said Maisie. "Darren, please stay the night. Devon will still be there in another week or two." She approached and touched him under the chin with a delicate finger.

Darren swallowed. Unexpectedly, the girl smelled quite powerfully of sweat. Not at all what attractive young girls were supposed to smell like. But from this close, he could study the arousing swell of her bosom inside the bodice of her blue frock. It was quite simply enormous. Easily four times as big as Emma Goldthorpe's in accounts...

Kevin was getting the same view, in pink instead of blue, as Maud, emboldened by her sister's forwardness, stroked his brow with a slender hand.

Their mother looked on fondly. "Off you go to classes, you two. Happen I can talk to these boys and persuade them to stay a while. They don't make much sense, I'll be bound. Off with you!"

The girls tore themselves away unwillingly. Their bosoms were heaving enormously. The more the boys studied them, the bigger they looked.

"We'll be here this evening," Kevin blurted. "If your mum doesn't mind. We're going to have to see if we can find some petrol this afternoon, but we'll come back later. Won't we, Dazza?"

On mature reflection, it seemed like a good idea. Darren nodded.

Maisie and Maud clapped their hands and literally jumped for joy. When they landed again, they unselfconsciously clutched at their breasts to stop them shuddering and bouncing. The boys had never seen anything quite like it in their lives. None of the girls of their slender acquaintance would ever behave in such an uninhibited manner.

But then, they had never met any girls even remotely as well-endowed as Maisie and Maud.

Yes, they'd be back this evening.

They didn't find a garage, nor a can of juice. For that matter, they didn't even get out of the village. Their heads swimming with strong drink, they tried and failed to explain to the widow Capstick just where they had come from, why, and for that matter, when.

She seemed to be trying to understand, but it was far beyond her comprehension.

"We could take you down to the river and show you our car," Kevin suggested, loudly and slowly.

"I can't drive like this," said Darren. "I'm off my face."

"The car won't go anyway," Kevin remarked.

"You could walk down to the river when the girls come home from school," the widow agreed. "You don't need me along with you, I'm sure!" She wobbled back out of the kitchen, where she seemed to be producing a gigantic vat of stew. "You two aren't used to strong liquor, I'll wager," she laughed. "Do get yourselves out into the garden or some fresh air!"

They wandered light-headedly down the garden path, leaving the reassuring clatter of pots and pans behind them. "What'sh 'appening?" Darren said, his voice slurred.

"God knows. I don't know what's happened, and I know it sounds daft, but I reckon we're back in the eighteenth century, or something. She doesn't know about cars, petrol, or anything. Nor do the girls. They're not having us on. They genuinely don't know. Look at this place. What's unusual about it?"

Darren stared around. A sprawl of houses rambled higgledy-piggledy up the hillside. A typical picture-postcard English village. "Nothin'," he said dully.

"Television aerials? Satellite dishes? Phone lines? Power cables? Nothing?"

"So they have strict planning regulations. That doesn't mean we've travelled back in time."

"What else? How about those twins?"

Darren's eyes became dreamy. "Wow! And one each, too! And those tits! Monsters! How about getting your hands on those things?"

"How old did their mum say they were?"

"I thought she said they were fourteen, but I never seen fourteen year-olds with tits like those."

"Exactly. Tits like those, and they don't wear bras! None of them, not even their mum. Not only that, but they don't have a best friend."

"What are you talking about?"

"They stink! Never mind the ads for deodorants and feminine fragrance and shower gel. Even their best friends would tell them! We're back in the dark ages, mate. Before running water and regular baths. Regular? Maybe Maudie and Maisie bathe once a year, whether they need it or not!"

"Oh, come on!" Darren muttered uncomfortably.

"It's true, isn't it? Would you want to sleep with them?"

Darren considered for a while.

So did Kevin.

It wasn't quite the right twenty-first century answer.

"Well, so would I, actually," said Kevin. "But you do see my point, don't you!"

"They're only fourteen," Darren offered uncertainly. He had a feeling he knew what the answer would be. He was wrong.

"If this really is the seventeen-hundreds, people don't live so long. So those girls are adults. You can see those two are more than ripe for motherhood even if they are only fourteen year-olds. Besides, I'm not superstitious."

Darren thought, ah! He was right after all.

They stopped short, five yards before the gate. The girls hung back like suspicious dogs. "Mama wouldn't like it if we went out," Maisie said hesitantly.

"We could go out as long as Kevin and Darren were looking after us," said Maud.

Darren looked back at them, his face troubled. He nudged Kevin. "What's going on?"

"What's up?"

"Where's the fucking car?"

"Where you left it?"

"Just over there?"

"Maybe it's round the corner, out of sight."

"Or some bastard's nicked it."

"That's all we need! All our stuff's in there. My new bat cost a hundred and fifty quid..."

"Never mind your bat! That's my fucking car!"

"What's the matter, Dazza?" Maisie approached, her breast squashing against his arm. Maud did the same thing to Kevin. He placed his hands on her soft shoulders and gently pushed her away to arms'-length, his sensitive nose twitching.

"Can you wait here, girls? Only for a minute. Me and Darren need to go and check something out." The twins looked confused as Kevin scrambled over the gate, followed by Darren, who had to pull Maisie's hands off his sleeve. They hurried round the corner toward the rippling stream. The car was still there, in the shadows, right where they'd left it.

"Thank fuck!" His hands shaking, Darren unlocked the doors and reached inside. "Everything's still here." He tugged at his overnight bag and disentangled it from the pile of their belongings on the back seat. "Here's yours. We've got towels and toothbrushes and stuff. Anything else we need?"

Kevin shook his head. "I didn't bring any, did you?"

Darren blushed but forced himself to produce an acceptably macho answer. "No, I ... I thought we'd be able to buy a few packets of three in a 7-Eleven."

"If we needed any, that is."

"I reckon we'll need some tonight," Darren persisted bravely. "Those twins are red hot for us. They're practically gagging for it."

This was a common enough misconception amongst young men, but in this case there was every good reason to suspect that these buxom young twins were more than ready to start making babies.

Darren locked the car with feverish fingers. The boys grabbed their belongings and hurried back to the gate. "Where are they?" They climbed back over into the village as the girls came out from behind a bush.

"You were gone so long," Maisie whimpered, running across and clinging to Darren's arm.

"We thought you weren't coming back to us," sighed Maud, standing on tiptoe, her breath hot in Kevin's ear.

Kevin looked back over the gate. Surely, the car ought to be visible from here! As the late afternoon sun bathed the scene with golden light, they could see clear down to the river. The river! "I've got an idea," he said.

"An idea?" Maud looked up at him, her eyes shining.

"It's a nice warm evening, and there's nobody about. Let's go skinny-dipping!"

Darren looked uncomfortable. "What? You crazy? We'll get arrested!"

"Who's going to arrest us here? What you reckon, girls?"

"Skinny-dipping? What is it?"

"You haven't... ?" The girls looked vacantly at them, but whatever skinny-dipping turned out to be, they both seemed to be up for it. Breasts were heaving, and there were erect nipples in their bulging, bursting bodices.

"We've got plenty of towels, Daz! And soap and stuff." Kevin nudged Darren in the ribs. "Soap!"

"Oh, yeah. I see what you mean. Soap!"

"Let's go, then!" Kevin swung a long leg on to the top rail of the gate.

"We can't climb over there," Maud protested. She indicated her dress which clung tightly around her shapely knees.

"What are you climbing over for, anyway?" Maisie was more practical. She went to the end of the gate, unhooked the chain and pulled. The gate swung smoothly open, with Kevin clinging to it to keep his balance. "Boys!" Maisie snorted, and both twins giggled.

Kevin was left staring at the fastenings of the gate. There was no padlock, and the metal of the chain was bright and silvery. It wasn't more than a few weeks old.

"Be a gentleman and close the gate, Keff," Maud chided him. Then the girls were off, laughing and skipping, down to the river. You could see their huge breasts bouncing, even from behind them. It was a splendid sight. Kevin closed the gate and began drifting after the twins, his feet hardly touching the ground.

"Kevin!" Darren's voice was chilling.

"We'd better go with them, mate! Someone has to show them what skinny-dipping is."

"Kevin! Never mind that. Where's the fucking car?"

"Trust me. It's because the girls are with us. I bet while they're with us, we're still in seventeen-hundred-and-whatever-year it is. But if we were to go back through the gate, then come out on our own, the car would be back."

Darren looked at his friend with understandable scepticism.

"I'm not proving it to you now," Kevin said. "Look at that sight over there!" He pointed to the girls sitting side by side on the bank, dangling their bare toes in the water. Their heads were inclined towards each other, long blonde hair tumbling down around their shoulders. Their gloriously rounded bottoms rested on the grass. They were in animated conversation, occasionally glancing back at the boys.

Kevin swallowed. "Look! We've been right here the whole time. Did you hear anything between the time we climbed back over the gate and this minute? It would have needed a wrecker truck to tow the car away. We'd have heard it for sure. Go with the flow, kid! And right now, the flow is two gorgeous blonde honeys with the biggest tits we ever saw. Or more correctly, the biggest tits we still haven't really seen yet."

"Oh, shit, man! What's going on?"

"At a guess, time travel. So are we going to get these girls' kit off, or are we going to stand here grieving for a genuine high-mileage Vauxhall Astra 1.3 Estate? That car hasn't even been built for another two hundred years?"

"It's all very well for you, that car cost me five hundred quid and I'm still paying my dad back..."

But Kevin was already hopping over to the riverbank, pulling off his shoes and socks. If you can't beat them, Darren thought, you might as well join them.

Maisie didn't seem to understand.

"They want us to undress, Maisie," Maud translated freely. "Just like they are doing." The twins watched as Kevin's sweat-shirt came off, followed by his T-shirt, which was seized eagerly by Maud.

"There are words on it," she said in a voice of wonder. "What is this ... Hil-fig-er?"

"It's just a word." Kevin was trying to get his jeans off while balancing on one leg.

"Come on, Darren!" Maisie urged. "It's your turn."

The boy looked across at his faithful friend and navigator. Kev wasn't showing any great reluctance to get naked in a public place.

Darren shuffled his feet in the grass. "I thought you girls were going to strip off, too," he told them.

"It's much more interesting watching you," said Maisie. "You wear such strange things."

Kevin was finished, apart from a pair of purple boxers. The moment was getting close, and he was anxious to get down to business. "Come on, Maudie!" he urged. "How do we get your dress off? Where's the zip?"

"The string has to be untied," the girl giggled. "I can teach you. I'm going to be a teacher..." She wiggled her hips and shuffled back to press her rump against Kevin's crotch, then giggled some more and opened her eyes wide as she looked up at him over her shoulder. "You have to lean over and pull that ribbon, just there. Then untie all the little strings all the way down to the bottom."

"Bottom!" Maisie blushed at her sister's use of the lewd word. But not to be outdone, she fumbled and tugged at the top fastening of her own frock until it came loose. Then she turned to Darren and fluttered her long fingers across his tummy. "Take your pantaloons off, Dazza! Quickly!" A dribble of saliva escaped her full lips and extended downwards between her massive globes. Darren gulped. This had never happened to him before. This incredible young girl was undoubtedly gagging for it. His eyes were drawn to a nipple which seemed to have sextupled in size.

It didn't help when he saw the progress being made by Kev and Maud. Maud's frock was gaping loose right all the way down, the pale skin of her breasts gleaming in the shadows. She wasn't wearing very much underneath, if anything at all.

Kevin turned his girl gently round, as if she might break. But there was nothing fragile about the immense breasts that were thrusting out at him through the front of her pink dress. Her staggeringly erect nipples were poking insolently against his chest and stomach. At least, his cock wasn't going to embarrass him by sticking into her belly. Kevin's cock was substantially above the national average in size but it wouldn't reach that far.

Maisie took her cue and tore at Darren's jeans then, following her sister's example, spun round impatiently to thrust her backside against him. "Undress me, quickly!" she demanded, bobbing up and down.

Maud watched her fondly. "You're so bouncy, Maisie," she chirped, and indulged in a little bouncing herself. Unrestrained by her gown, Maud's breasts were leaping up and down furiously. At each little hop, they seemed to bounce higher and lower than before.

Darren was undecided. What to do first? Maisie's dress had to come off, but he was going to have to finish undressing, too. And therein lay the problem. It was a little bit too public here. Not that there was anyone around to see, apart from Kev and the twins. And that was the problem: Kev and the twins. Darren normally took care to dress quickly and secretively, even in the all-male atmosphere of the Udderleigh Cricket Club dressing room. The presence of two enormously-endowed teenage girls was having an entirely unexpected effect on him. His cock was shrinking. Shit, as if it wasn't small enough to start with!

Seeing his best mate Kev there with his Maud, actually touching her, playing around, his cock sticking out like a flagpole, was only making it worse.

"Come on, Darren!" Maisie whined, yanking at his jeans so desperately that they came down to his knees. She whooped and knelt down to pull them right off, her tits lolloping massively. Ten yards away, the other couple laughed, then returned to paying close attention to each other.

Kevin, in fact, could appreciate his friend's problem of being unable to rise to the occasion before an audience. "Come over here," he murmured to Maud, picking up his overnight bag and leering at her. Her eyes sparkled as she followed him.

"Where are we going?"

"Behind the bushes."

Two Girls with Giant boobsGiggles. "But why, pray?"

"The grass is softer."

"How do you know?" she gasped breathlessly, following him nonetheless.

"Got you!" he cried, whirling round and clutching the girl's wriggling body. Her mouth was warm and wet as they struggled playfully, but he was bitterly reminded of the reason for bringing the girls down to the river. "Let me get your dress off!"

"Why?" she squealed, dancing back a step or two before advancing until her breasts squashed against his chest. "Be gentle. Don't tear it. Mama will be angry." She raised both arms above her head and moved sinuously, allowing the dress to slither down her body. She wore nothing underneath. Nothing at all. Not a stitch. A girl with the biggest tits he'd ever seen, and here she was - stark bollock naked and gagging for it.

"Come closer, Maudie."

She stepped closer, their bodies melting together, then they subsided to the grass. It was fairly soft, too. "Where are the others?" she asked softly.

"Round the corner. Let's give them a few minutes..."

Maisie seemed to understand, although his twenty-first century shorthand speech must have been well-nigh incomprehensible.

She was getting the hang of undressing a boy from the twenty-first century. She had his shoes off, which allowed her to remove his jeans, then being a tidy girl, she pulled off his socks. Darren wasn't exactly complaining, but there was still the dread moment of reckoning to come. Meanwhile, Maisie had stood up and was working on Darren's upper half. She coo-ed appreciatively as his lithe, muscled body came into view. At last, she was down to his shorts, and paused, evidently leaving the best until last.

"Now you undress me," she told him formally, presenting herself.

Darren had no option. His hands shook as he untied the ribbons and strings one at a time until Maisie's blue dress was completely open just as Maud's had been. She was less patient than her twin sister, however, especially as Maud was out of sight round the corner, presumably already getting heartily rodgered. Maisie wanted her share, too. She almost ripped the dress off and stepped out of it, totally naked before Darren who had sat down on the grass to watch the show. Despite his apprehensions, his body wasn't letting him down completely. Maisie would still probably get the giggles if she got to see it, but perhaps he could find a way of doing it with the lights out...

Kevin and Maud had begun to pant like a pair of sheepdogs. "Let me feel him," the girl murmured, reaching for Kevin with a small hand. He still had his boxers on for some reason, perhaps the feeling that even if this was the eighteenth century he was still in the middle of the crowded English countryside in the middle of a summer's evening. "You don't need this on," she nagged. "Take it off!"

Kevin took it - or them - off, and if pressed, he would have admitted to a moment of pride as the girl gasped in delight at the sight of his waving prong. She kneeled to touch it and giggled up at him as it jerked automatically out of her way.

"Come on," he said, taking her hand and pulling her up. "Skinny-dipping time!"

Frowning, she followed him to the edge of the water, to stand there with her toes turned inwards. Even her mammoth breasts looked somehow apprehensive. "What are you going to do?"

"We're going in," he said. "Come on!" He stepped into the bubbling water. "Ow-wow. It's freezing! Come in, Maudie!"

"In there? What for?"

He began to splash her with water. She flinched back, although it wasn't as cold as it had seemed at first plunge.

"Stop it! It's dirty!"

"The water's clean! Come on in!" But having a sudden thought he sprang out of the water and ran across to his bag, unzipping the top and coming out with a huge beach towel and a bar of soap. This time, he took Maud's hand and raced straight into the river, taking the vast-breasted young girl with him. She was whimpering and wobbling around on tiptoe as the water surged around her knees. "Sit down," he ordered, tossing the towel on to the bank."

Squealing and wriggling, Maud subsided beneath the water, perching her pert bottom on the smooth rocks. Her breasts looked simply enormous, almost on a level with the surface, each one bobbing up and down alternately because of some trick of the current. Her nipples were now incredibly extended, the plump areolae puffed up like halved pink peaches. He restrained her with a strong hand on her shoulder.

"No! Keff!"

"Yes, Maud!"

"What's that thing in your hand? What are you doing?"

"It's called soap. I'm washing you!"

She calmed down a little as his firm hands soaped her back and shoulders, round and round, working up a rich lather, then advanced to her breasts. Maud giggled with delight as his soapy hands slithered across her hugely full globes, flickering across the thrusting nipples. Frothy bubbles sailed away downstream.

"You can stand up now." Gently he raised her to her feet and stood behind her, almost painfully erect as he worked the soap down her back and sides, down her flat, soft belly, into the rich tangle of her splendid bush of pale golden pubic hair, lingering between her legs, down her thighs, then back up to her breasts again, into her furry armpits...

"Keff!" she sighed, leaning into him. She investigated the lather with a finger, sniffed it. "It smells like flowers," she said wonderingly.

"So do you," he told her, and renewed his efforts between her legs with the soap.

"What are you doing in the river?"

The water-babies turned round at the sound of the voice.

Maisie was standing on the bank, with Darren coming up behind her in his uncomfortable shorts. He was trying to rearrange things as he ran.

"What's it called, Keff?" Maud asked. "What are we doing?"

"Bathing," Kevin called. "I'm bathing your sister."

"What for?"

"Come on in and find out."

"But it's wet!"

"That's true!"

"Come in, Maisie. He's right, it feels good. And it's all soft and smelly. Bring your Dazza with you."

It looked dangerous, cold and wet, but Maud somehow made bathing sound interesting, fascinating, dangerous even. Maisie paused for a moment, then grabbed Darren's hand and dashed into the frothing water with him, shorts and all.

Kevin tossed the soap to Darren, who caught it and immediately began working on the giggling Maisie. Meanwhile Kevin had lowered Maud into a deep pool, washing away the soap.

"Does this remind you of the one about the two nuns in the bath?" he shouted to his mate.

Separated from each other by the bushes, the two couples lay on the bank of the stream as the sun dipped below the trees. Maud lay on her back with her pale legs spread at ninety degrees. On top of her, not quite able to believe the majestically developed girl beneath him, Kevin thrust long and slowly into her. She had evidently done this before, many times over many years, and she made it so easy for him to appear expert.

"Kiss me again, Keff!"

He kissed her again, feeling her softness beneath him.

"Now lick my bubbies."

Hey, why not, Kevin thought.

On the other side of the bushes, Maisie was on top of Darren, plunging vigorously up and down with necessarily short strokes. It felt extremely risky, but the experienced girl had only let him slip out of her cunny twice, and each time he had slipped straight back in again almost without pain. The advantage of this position was that the biggest pair of breasts he had ever imagined were flopping alternately across his face. The girl looked quite staggeringly huge in this position.

"Darren! Yes, ooh, yes!! You feel so big inside me!"

Some things never change. Those words have remained the same across the centuries.

He still hadn't relaxed enough to come yet, but Maisie didn't seem to mind. She was coming enough for both of them. Her eyes shut tight, she clenched around his swollen little dick and deposited a flood of slick fluid around his groin. The thought occurred to him that this was one hell of a way to lose your virginity! At last, she rolled off him, and he felt the chill breeze around his sopping loins.

Her hand crept up across his belly, toyed briefly with his navel, then moved on to tug at his sparse chest hair. It went dark for a few seconds as she wrapped her mighty breasts around his face and went wobble-wobble-wobble. "He-heee," she giggled suddenly, leaping to her feet and galumphing off into the bushes. Those huge breasts! Incredible! Darren took himself in hand and began wanking furiously.

There was a sound of laughter, echoing round the little valley, then she was back, dropping to her hands and knees to crawl towards him like a playful puppy, her long nipples trailing through the close-cropped grass. "Oooh!" she sighed, dashing his hand away and gently grasping his rigid little member between finger and thumb. "But it's so small!"

Such a statement wasn't about to make it any bigger. She stretched it.

"Ouch! Maisie!"

She laughed again, and bent suddenly to take him in her mouth. Panic gripped Darren. She was going to bite it off! He sat up, bringing his knees together, hunching his shoulders defensively. The girl let go with a slurp and grinned up at him. Then she held out her arms. Her cleavage was a mile deep.

Around the corner, Kevin heard the whispering and giggling come to a stop, then sensed Maud creeping up on him from behind. He waited for her, then spun round and pounced. She rolled on to her back in delight, and shrieked as he entered her drenched pussy. "Eeeek!" she yelped, fumbling around on her lower belly to grasp him by the hairy root. Her eyes opened wide, followed by her mouth. "It's so big!" she gasped.

"You know how big it is, I've been fucking you with it for the last half hour!"

"Unnnh?" She closed her eyes and surrendered to his powerful onslaught, although she raised her hips from the grass and thrust back at Kevin as he slowed and approached his grand finale. It was one of those simultaneous orgasms so beloved of the women's magazines, if such things as women's magazines had been published in the eighteenth century. Not only did the two of them come within seconds of each other, their cries and grunts were echoed by similar noises from just around the corner.

Only when the girls were dressing, standing on the riverbank and exchanging pink frock for blue frock, did the boys realise that they had been guilty of partner-swapping.

"You didn't notice?" said Maud, tucking an arm into Kevin's and resting her head on his shoulder as they passed the spot where the car wasn't. "I noticed the difference between you," she laughed. "But I don't know which was best."

"Nor do I," Maisie laughed, her arm snaking round Darren's waist and making its way inside the waist of his jeans. They closed the gate behind them and threaded their way up the hill in the gathering dusk.

Breakfast was never like this at home. While the widow Capstick looked on with an indulgent smile, the girls sat on their lovers' laps, feeding them with tasty morsels. They still wore their nightgowns, although they had only put them on when the church clock struck six and their mother had started clattering about in the kitchen.

The lads couldn't quite believe all this. They waited until the twins had made off hand-in-hand out of the back door of the house, presumably to perform a bowel movement, then they conferred in whispers.

"What do you think we should do?" Kevin asked.

"We've got to get out of this place. Maybe we could get matey-boy with the horses to pull the car up the hill to the main road. Then we could hitch a ride into Dulchester and get a can of petrol..."

Kevin shook his head. "That wasn't what I meant. What about the girls?"

"What about them? They belong here. They're going back to school this morning..."

"And you want us to leave them? Just like that?"

Darren thought about it. "Well, now we know where they live, we could come back and see them some time. Or..."

"Or! Exactly. We've got a choice."


"Yeah. We could do what you say, get up to the main road and thumb a lift into Dulchester, but what about the girls? We can't leave them on their own in the car."

Darren's hair began to stand on end. "The girls? You don't mean we take them back to Udderleigh with us?"

"It's either that or we stay here with them. For ever. Think about it! Nothing to do all day but grow vegetables and fuck those two."

"We can't do that! People would miss us. What about the cricket team, with two men short? What about our jobs?"

"The boss wouldn't give a monkey's if he never saw us again in his life!"

"We can't stay here, Kevin! When did you ever hear of a time travel story where they stay there? We've got to get back..."

" ... Back to the Future? Okay. If that's what you want. But if we go back, those girls are coming with us!"

"But they couldn't! They don't know anything! They're from now, not from then. Where would they live? They don't know about cars, or showers and stuff, or anything."

"There's more to life than cars and showers, mate," said Kevin. "And they smell quite nice right now. A bit fishy, maybe, but they have been fucking for the last thirteen hours without a break. They'd soon learn about modern life. And, hey ... just imagine us walking into the cricket club next Saturday with those two, in shorts and T-shirts! Their busts must be forty-eights at least, even without a bra holding them up!"

Darren gazed out of the window to where the girls were cavorting in the dewy garden, their urgent business apparently complete. Kevin had a point, he thought. Imagine it! Those two, back home. Two of the finest specimens of girlhood ever seen. Like a couple of exotic dancers, only bigger up top...

Kevin stared out at the girls in their loose yet tight nightgowns. Imagine it! Staying here with them for ever, capering in the stream every day, fucking all night long, raising babies...

"It won't work," he said suddenly.

Darren blinked. "Whaddya mean? You saying you don't want a beautiful blonde with giant tits for a girlfriend?"

"It's not that. What if they're pregnant? We'd have screwed up the whole of history by coming back here and giving them babies. You saw that film where that guy was snogging his own mother in a car... ?"

"Kev. What have we been doing with them since yesterday afternoon? If they're in the club, they're in it by now. Whether we leave them here, or stay with them, or take them home, or come back and see them every weekend ... if they're pregnant, it's done. We wouldn't even know if the sprogs were ours. Or if only one of them was pregnant, which one was whose. Did you know which twin you were fucking last night?"

"Both," Kevin admitted uncomfortably.

"It might not even work. We might not be able to get them into the car without them disappearing. Or the car disappearing. That's a good car, too. And I haven't finished paying for it yet."

"We'd have to experiment. One of us goes out of the gate, maybe with one of the girls, or you go out with the bloke with the horses, or ... stuff like that. It might work."

"Then we get them home?" Darren said gloomily. "And all they've got is those stinky dresses that tie up the back, no bras and panties, no jeans, nowhere to live, no jobs..."

"They don't need bras..."

"Hi, you guys!" Maud giggled as she came undulating in out of the garden. She was learning the language.

"Ready for a quickie before school, Big Boy?" Maisie squirmed on to Darren's lap and slid her arms round his neck. She badly needed a dip in the river again. He blushed as he felt himself become painfully erect. From Kevin's side of the table, Maud was giggling. Big Boy!

"It's make-your-mind-up time, mate," said Kevin.

"Just a quickie, mate?" Maisie insisted.

"Give him another b-j, Sis," Maud suggested.

The widow Capstick bustled in from the kitchen. "Whatever you girls is plotting, you can stop it right away and get you off to school before the vicar's lady gives you a good spanking. Besides," the woman continued with a gleam in her eye. "You're not the only ones round here with appetites. These boys and me have got to have a long... talk."

Whatever had caused the premature demise of the late Mr Capstick it certainly hadn't been Night Starvation. Between the girls' trotting off to their classes and the clock striking twelve, the willing widow "talked" with her young guests for three hours. In fact, the three of them did precious little talking. While Mrs Capstick was impaling herself on one boy, the other was slumped in a shuddering heap on the floor, recovering.

The woman was supremely fit and agile. She was also younger than a widow with twin buxom teenage daughters had any right to be. She was possibly in her mid twenties; no older.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" she yelled at surprisingly frequent intervals. Wet, squelching sounds echoed through the cool interior of the cottage. As the morning wore on, the widow somehow made her way out into the kitchen, clinging to Kevin with her arms round his neck and her legs wrapped round his middle. It wasn't at all clear how she indicated to him that she wanted to go to the kitchen, as their mouths were clamped together. Darren trailed after the copulating couple, his eyes goggling as they paused in front of the stove for the widow to stir her pot of mutton broth. Then, still fucking, they wandered out into the garden and sank into a flower bed.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" howled the widow as Kevin reached his third climax of the mid-morning session. He rolled off the woman and subsided on to his back, panting. "Come on!" she cried impatiently as Darren failed to penetrate her within five seconds. "Come on!"

Darren lay on the grass, heedless of the goat-droppings, and tried to persuade his little soldier to point skywards long enough for her to lower herself on to him. She sighed with every appearance of satisfaction. Possibly Kev's big soldier was so long and thick that the widow actually found him painful, Darren thought idly as his lover began a languid and completely non-threatening up-and-down motion. Within a second he was rigid as an iron bar and a feeling of immense well-being swept over him.

"Fucking hell!" he muttered to himself. "I reckon I could probably get to enjoy this."

They finished more or less at the same time, the widow standing up in a single flowing movement and extending a hand to pull him to his feet. The church clock began to chime the hour.

"They'll be home and no meal ready!" she cried, hurrying into the cottage and leaving the exhausted boys staring blankly at each other.

"Fuck!" said Kevin at last.

"Yeah," Darren agreed.

"I'm knackered."

"Same here."

They sat on the grass, trouserless, staring uselessly at the ground between their feet.

"Hi, guys!"

"Oh, no!"

Maisie and Maud came prancing out of the back door, plucking at the strings of their dresses.

"They ought to be having babies! 'Tis a shameful, shameful scandal for two pretty little girls to be fourteen and not yet with child!"

The widow Capstick reclined on her feather mattress sipping a goblet of mead. It was her third and the only impression it seemed to have made on her was to render her more talkative. They had fucked only once each since the twins - reeking of cum - had gone back to their classes for the afternoon. The boys lay in attitudes of only slightly drunken exhaustion, propped against the wall.

"You shall father children upon them!" She held up a hand to stem their protests. "I know you want to leave, to go back whence you came, but you must father children upon the girls first. You may already have done so - in which case, well and good - but you must wait until the next moon so as to be certain sure. And, of course, you will fuck them as long as you are here. Me, too."

The boys groaned.

"We can't stay a whole month!" Darren declared.

"It won't be a whole month," Kevin pointed out. "When is their period?" he asked the girls' mother boldly.

The widow looked blank for a moment. "Their flow? In around a fortnight, same as me. So you must stay a fortnight. If you have done your duty ... and truly at this time we are all well fertile ... you will know."

Darren wasn't convinced. "What if they don't get pregnant? Or if only one of them does?"

"Then you stay until the next month," the widow stated simply. "You must do it. There are enough idiots in this village and we all know the reason."

"Oh, God!" Darren groaned again. He bent close to his friend's ear. "What about ... you know what?"

"I know what? What do I know?"

"You know! Stuff. What if we go home with ... you-know-whats!"

"Aids hasn't been invented yet, Daz," said Kevin.

"I didn't mean that; I meant ... well... stuff."

"What's he talking about?" asked the widow, who had been looking from one boy to the other.

"Sexually transmitted diseases," Kevin explained, then seeing no reaction on Mrs Capstick's face he tried again. "Crabs? Pox? Trouble down here? Oh, fuck it, what's it matter? We'll never get away from here anyway!"

"You can stay if you like," Darren said. "I'm going on my own."

"Oh, yeah? Have you decided how?"

"I'll walk up the hill to the main road, turn right and hitch a lift into Dulchester, buy a gallon of petrol, thumb another ride back, put the petrol in the car then drive home."


"Tomorrow. In fact, I'm not waiting until tomorrow. I'll go now!"

He swung his legs off the bed to the uneven flagstones, staggered a few paces and measured his length on the unyielding floor.

"Wow, this is strong stuff!" Kevin remarked.

"You want to fuck again?" suggested the widow. "Before the girls come home?"


"Okay," Mrs Capstick repeated as if testing the strange word. "You shall teach me the meaning of your strange words. Okay?"

"It means, kind of ... all right."

"Well, why not simply say all right?" She shrugged and spread her capable thighs. Kevin thought it might be time to take the widow woman down to the river to learn about skinny-dipping. She seemed to read his thoughts. What is this car you speak of?"

"It's down by the river. It's Darren's, really, although he hasn't finished paying for it yet. I could show it to you but I don't think you'd be able to see it."

"I see." The widow grasped his stiff tool and guided it between her well-worn flaps. "And what is a bra?"

Kevin thrust into her a couple of times until they settled into a familiar rhythm. "That's easy," he said. "It's a kind of underwear that women wear to support their breasts."


"These things."

"You mean tits?"

"That's right. Tits. A bra holds up your tits."

Minutes went by, filled with gentle squelching noises. The widow broke the relative silence. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why hold them up?"

"I don't know," he was forced to admit.

"Where you come from, all women do wear a bra?"

"Most of them."

"Do they have big tits?"

"Not as big as yours. And certainly not as big as Maudie and Maisie! Theirs are huge, especially for such young girls!"

The widow listened impassively. "But you do like big tits?"

"Fuck, yeah!"

"Then why go back to where you came from?"

"Because Udderleigh is where we belong."

"You have a woman there you fuck with?"

"No, not really. I've had loads of girlfriends, of course."

"Girl friends. I see. How big are their tits?"

Kevin considered his three ex-girlfriends, who accounted for a total of five dates altogether. The biggest-busted was Susie Wilkins. Mentally he revised her upwards a couple of cup sizes. "About as big as ... a coconut."

"A what?"

"A small melon? A large grapefruit? A pineapple? Bigger than a cricket ball, smaller than a football ... a mangel-wurzel?"

Widow Capstick's expression cleared. "Not as big as mine, then?"

"No, I guess not."

He felt her gripping his cock with her cunny-muscles. The end was nigh. Meanwhile, on the floor, Darren rolled painfully on to his back, made a succession of wet mouth noises and began to snore.

"Oh, fuck!"

There was mutton pie for supper. Darren had withdrawn behind the curtain to the little alcove the boys thought of as their bedroom, pleading a headache. Kevin was doing his best but there was just too much for his eyes and his brain to take in. The Capstick twins had brought home some friends from school, and they were already at the table, wolfing down their food.

"This is Keff," Maud said to them, rubbing her breasts up and down his torso. "Where's Dazza?"

"He's not feeling very well," said Kevin. "He fell over and banged his head on the floor."

"I must go to him!" Maisie announced, already tearing off her clothes.

"No, Maisie," said her mother. "Stay and introduce your friends to Kevin first."

Kevin thought that wasn't a bad idea at all. There were two friends, both female. Unmistakeably female. At that moment they were sitting at the kitchen table stuffing themselves with pie as if it were their last meal on this earth. They crammed the food into their mouths using both hands as fast as they could, pausing only occasionally to belch and gulp mead from the jug on the table. Kevin couldn't see much of them, but what he could see truly boggled his mind. He needed to see more.

"That's Mary with the black hair," said Maisie. "The little one's Charity."

The two newcomers paid him no attention, giving everything they had to the food with doglike single-mindedness. They cleared up the last of their dishes simultaneously, licked them clean then went in search of stray crumbs. Nothing. Then they turned their still hungry eyes on Kevin. Together they stood up and came round the table, one on each side.

Mary got to him first, about five seconds after the stink of her - mostly but by no means entirely sweat. Kevin's eyes watered. She wore a kind of sleeveless and threadbare shirt that covered her breasts and came down more or less to her stomach. A wraparound skirt hid her legs but left a substantial gap around her middle.

"Hello, Kevin," she said in a husky baritone, spreading her arms to encompass him. Kevin had a vision of a pair of armpits as hairy as two black cats, a theme echoed by the rich trail of sable fur running down from some way above her navel and thickening dramatically as it disappeared in the direction of the Promised Land. She was six inches or so taller than the widow Capstick and her breasts were about the same size. In other words, large.

Kevin, his eyes watering ever more profusely, allowed himself a perfunctory little hug as he returned her kiss. She stepped back, apparently losing interest in him as she spotted another piece of pie in a dish on the stove.

The one called Charity was much prettier than her hirsute dining companion. Even shorter and slimmer than the twins she was nevertheless burdened with breasts of such spectacular enormity that Kevin felt the breath leave his body as if the girl had punched him in the solar plexus. The twins, he knew from recent experience, could stand a foot away from him and still their nipples would brush his stomach. Charity's cute face was two feet away yet the rounded peaks of her teats were pressing softly against his knees.

An image of himself strolling into the cricket clubhouse with Charity on his arm flashed into his mind, then instantly disappeared.

"How old is she?" he asked Mrs Capstick in a hoarse whisper.

"Do it matter?" said the widow with a lift of her eyebrows. "If she do be big enough, she do be old enough."

Kevin's head spun with this logic. She certainly was, yet she equally certainly wasn't.

"But you be warned ... you do father babies on Maud and Maisie first!"

The twins snickered delightedly and hopped up and down. If Charity had tried that, Kevin thought, her tits would surely have been hitting the floor, when they weren't socking her upside her head.

The widow chattered on. "Did you tell the teacher about the lads, girls?" she asked.

Maud answered, rolling her eyes at Kevin. "Yes. She said they can come to school and fuck all the girls. Tomorrow and the next day would be best, while we're all fertile."

Kevin felt himself go pale. "E ... excuse me, ladies," he stammered. "I'd better see if Darren's okay."

"Okay means all right," the widow translated.

The back room was dark. There was only one window, about a foot square, and creeping plants had covered it completely.

"Daz! You awake?"

"Wha... ?"

"It's me."

Darren drew his knees protectively up to his stomach. "She's not with you, is she?"

"They're all out in the kitchen. The girls brought some friends home from school. The widow wants us to fuck them. Not necessarily straight away, but the schoolteacher said we can go to the school and fuck all the girls in the next couple of days."

Darren waved a weak hand. "I never want to fuck any girl ever again. I've had enough to last me a lifetime."

"You're going to have to, I can't keep that lot satisfied. The two they brought home are a whole lot of woman."

"I thought you said they were from the school."

"They are. But one of them's the hairiest woman you ever saw. And she's got tits as big as the widow's."

"She can't have. There can't be four women as big as that in one village."

"There aren't. There are at least five. The other one's called Charity. She's fucking gorgeous although she's even shorter than the twins. God knows how young she is but she only looks about ... I dunno. Apart from her chest..."

Darrens struggled to sit up on his rustling straw mattress. "What about it?"

"It's fucking vast. She's got like skinny arms and legs but these monster tits down to her knees!"

"Is there any of that pie left?"

"I doubt it. Hairy Mary caught sight of your share of the pie on the stove. She's a hungry girl. Eats like a pig. Smells a bit like one, too."

"Ouch! My head!" Darren was on his feet, but wobblingly. "I won't be able to drive tomorrow like this."

"You won't be driving anywhere this side of Christmas, mate. I've got a feeling we're not getting away from the Village of the Damned until we've impregnated every female of childbearing age."

Darren sat down hurriedly on the edge of the mattress. "We can't do that. I already told you, if we're time travellers, we are simply not allowed to make women pregnant. It's part of the rules of the game."

Kevin dipped a hand into the front of his jeans and stirred things up. "Excuse me, pal," he said when he noticed Darren's expression of distaste and envy. "There isn't a lot of room in these jeans." He hefted it into a vertical position with the head making an unsightly bulge in his T-shirt. He seemed reluctant to let it go.

"Can't you leave that fucking thing alone for five minutes?"

"No! You haven't seen all those tits out there in the kitchen. And we've got to make them all pregnant!"

"We can't! If we do that, we'll be stuck here for ever!"

"Oh, suit yourself! Give me time and I can get them all in the club myself. I just thought you'd want a share of all that tit and cunt. Especially tit." And Kevin stormed out of the little bedroom.

Darren woke early the next morning when the sun penetrated the vine leaves and lanced into the little room. The other mattress was unoccupied. From somewhere in the cottage came a succession of girlish grunts, in stereo. Kevin was getting his end away with both twins.

"Shit!" said Darren. He sat up and nursed his throbbing head. Lower down, his other head was throbbing, either with desire or the urgent need for a piss. "Fuck!" he muttered. He got up and plodded out into the kitchen, then through the open door into the back garden. The air was crisp on his naked torso and his early-morning erection was dwindling beneath his rumpled boxers. He wandered across the dewy grass and stood behind a bramble bush, pulling out his cock and sending a steaming stream of piss over the flower bed.

"Hi, baby!" said a soft voice by his side.

"I couldn't sleep. And I needed a pee."

"So I see," said the widow. She bent down and shook off the drips, an oddly intimate and friendly gesture. "Kevin's fucking the girls," she nodded in the direction of the cottage.

"They're noisy," he said.

"So am I," the widow laughed. "You want something to eat?"

"Yes, please!"

"Come on, then." She placed a companionable arm through his and they strolled through the dew and on to the chilly stone floor of the kitchen. Darren sat on a chair and held his head in his hands.

"You really want to go home, don't you?" she said. She parted his knees and squatted down between his thighs. Her tits strained at her blouse. Darren nodded, unable to speak past the lump in his throat.

"There's a reason. For all this fucking, you know? 'Tis the curse."

Darren paled. He'd heard that was the name some girls gave to ... oh, ick! "We can't stay here a whole month, Mrs Capstick!"

She stood up and leaned forward, rubbing his face affectionately between her pillowy breasts. Then she dug into a basket and came up with a loaf of crusty bread. "Hairy Mary didn't find this loaf last evenin'," she chuckled. "And there's honey in the jar." She watched fondly as Darren helped himself. "You don't have to stay until bleedin' time. As long as you fuck all the women an' girls at least half a dozen times, I believe you could go after that. There's a good chance they'll all catch."

"Half a dozen times each? How many are there?"

The widow Capstick was clearly not particularly numerate. Instead, she rattled off a list of names that seemed to go on for several minutes.

"Who were all those?" he asked desperately.

"All the fertile women and girls. Only the younger women; you wouldn't want to fuck the old ones, to be sure."

"Oh, no! Absolutely!"

"There's a reason, you see? When the last stranger came ... two, three harvests since ... he told me my tits were the biggest he'd ever saw. What nonsense! Of course, my girls was younger then an' their little titties was no bigger than this..." She picked up the halved loaf of bread and hefted it in one hand. " ... but he was serious. I even showed him some of the other village lasses with bigger tits than me, but still he said we were ... what word did he say... ? Unusual. He said he'd never seen such big tits nowhere."

Darren waited, the bread halfway to his mouth, honey dripping on to his boxers.

"Inbreedin', he said it was. Inbreedin', the curse of the Old Testament!"

Darren had heard of such things. Incest and stuff like that. "You mean that's why all the girls in the village are so stacked?"

The widow seemed to work out for herself what "stacked" meant. She nodded. "The stranger told me that the cure for the curse is new blood. Not blood, though! The seed of your loins, Master Darren. That's the cure!"

"What happened to this stranger of yours? Did he leave?"

The widow giggled. "He ran off with his lover one night."

Darren could fully understand the man's actions. "He took one of the girls? I suppose you were lucky he didn't steal Maisie or Maud."

"Not a girl," said the widow. "He ran off with the vicar. The curse of Sodom and Gomorrah!"

Darren risked a laugh. After finding out the nature of the cure for the curse of the village, it must have been deeply frustrating to find that the only source of new blood, or new semen, was only interested in pumping the stuff between the willing buttocks of the local parish priest.

"Oooh, look!" the widow cried happily, bending over the boy's lap. "You have spilled honey on your cock! Here, let me..." Her tongue slid out from between her full lips.

"Ooops, excuse me!" Kevin limped into the kitchen followed by the stark naked twins. The girls walked with a certain bandy-legged fragility. "Glad to see you're getting back into training," he remarked as the three of them hurried past, on their way to the back door.

"How's it going?" Kevin enquired dully. It was just past lunchtime and the boys were slumped lifelessly against the back wall of the house. The twins had gone back to school with no more than a token squirt of cum oozing down their maidenly thighs.

"Going?" Darren responded.

"How many?"

Darren held up one hand and began ticking off the fingers. "Five. The widow first thing..."

"She don't count..."

"I was going to say, the widow first thing makes six. I had one with brown hair and big tits, said she lives at the farm. Then the vicar's wife. Then a little fat one with big tits. Some woman or other from the dairy, with big tits. And Hairy Mary."

Kevin sniffed. "Five's not really enough, Daz. Didn't the widow say we've got to fuck the whole village at least half a dozen times before they'll let us go?"

"How many have you done, then?"


"Does that include the twins?"

"Only once each."

"If I can't count the widow, you can't count the twins. We've done them at least three dozen times already this week. Who else you had? We don't want to start doing the same ones."

"I had Hairy Mary. Then a couple of filthy little sluts with big tits from the farm. Young Sally from the pub ... she's got a big pair ... and one of Mrs Arthur's brats. And the vicar's daughter. She is the most disgusting slag you ever saw. You've got to try her. Talk about a dog! She is fucking incredible! She's got a cunt like a horse's collar!"

No good for me, then, Darren thought. "Are we going back this afternoon? I need to catch up with some sleep."

"We'd better show willing. They've been queuing up for us at the school. I reckon if we bring a couple home with us tonight we'll be just about on schedule. What day is this anyway?"


"Shit. I've never known a week take so long. Daz?"


"She said we could go home when we've done them all half a dozen times?"

"Yeah. If the car's still there, and if we can get some juice for it."

Kevin scratched his armpit. "I've been thinking. About messing about with the past and everything? You know you said it wasn't a good idea?"

"I don't care any more, I just want to get back home."

"The widow's got it right, I reckon. You know you said what this stranger told her? How about if this village is some kind of throwback, where all the girls are stacked out of their minds? I mean, wouldn't it still be there in the twenty-first century, this mysterious enclave down in the west country where all the girls have huge tits and are gagging for sex?"

"Maybe there is. If anybody discovered it, they'd hardly be busting a gut to tell the world, would they? That's one secret anyone would want to keep to himself."

"They'd never be able to hush it up. Not these days, with cars and TV and everything. The girls would leave the village and somebody would notice them and work out where they'd come from. I mean, the fucking size of those tits! If a girl like young Charity turned up to work in the office, you'd follow her home, for sure!"

"Well, even if it's not there in the twenty-first century, it's certainly here now. Maybe they all died out. The plague or something."

"No, I reckon I know what happened. Inbreeding gave them all these huge knockers. But then along came some new blood, made the girls pregnant, and gradually their tits kind of reverted to normal size. They'll have had ten or a dozen generations for that to happen; maybe more, given the age of some of these kids we've been screwing all morning."

Darren stared at his friend. "You mean, we're part of some master plan? Like we were somehow meant to find this place and fuck with the past? Then we quietly go home and everything's hunky-dory?"

"Why not? You've got to admit, it's a fairly unusual situation we're in. There's got to be an explanation."

"I'll believe it when we're in that car driving up that hill on our way back."

"You still got the car keys?"

"Of course!"

"Before we start fucking again, can we go down and check if it's still there? I need some clean underpants and a T-shirt. I'm getting so stinky I didn't even notice the stink of little Miss Vicar's-Daughter!"

Darren scrambled to his feet. "Sounds like a plan!"

The boys worked hard throughout the hot, humid afternoon. Kevin operated in the classroom itself, encouraged by the vicar's wife, steadily and methodically working his way through an eager bunch of around forty buxom squealing girls.

Outside, behind the church, Darren mounted a succession of slightly older women with only slightly smaller tits than their daughters. He was discovering a growing preference for these young mothers. They were confident and more than willing to please a handsome young man. And at the end of the day there was no fear of them coming home with him to the cottage.

"Our husbands have worked all day at the haymakin'! We must be ready for them when they come home from the fields." They laughed. "Take our little girls instead!"

Darren overcame a feeling of disgust when he realised that the little girls in question were quite grown up, with overflowing shirts and no underwear whatsoever. Kevin brought six of them home for supper.

"These four are mine," he said, corralling a group of twittering teeny tithood in his arms. You have the other two."

It didn't sound exactly fair but the girls were fine specimens with tits down to their navels. Sisters, they said, although it was hard to tell as so many of the village girls bore such a strong resemblance to one another.

"There's another one for you when you've finished those," Kevin promised. "And she's a bit special!"

The sun was long gone and the full moon was high in the sky when they shooed the last of the girls out of their little room.

"I am creamed!" Darren admitted.

"You're not finished yet! I'm off to see to the twins. You've still got your special girl waiting."

"Oh, no, I couldn't manage another!"

"You'll manage this one when you see her. Didn't I tell you about Charity? The biggest set of tits you will ever see in your life, boy!"

Darren remembered. But even the promise of a delectable girl with tits the size of beanbags couldn't do anything for him right now. "Why can't you see to her instead of the twins?"

"I've tried," Kevin admitted. "We tried three times. She's too small. Or maybe I'm too big."

Darren promptly shrank another inch.

"She's so tight! I nearly got it in once, just the tip, but she made so much noise I thought I'd got it in the wrong hole. It's really tiny. And bald."

"She's bald?"

"Not all of her! Just down there. Look, if you can't make it, you can have the rest of the night off. But she's been waiting for hours. At least, just talk to the kid. We're going to have to think of a way of making her pregnant, whatever we do. Go on, Daz! She's quite sweet, and really really pretty."

"What difference does that make? It's pitch dark in here."

"Get your arms wrapped round those tits of hers and you won't need any lights on. I tell you, they're four times as big as the twins!"

"Four times?"

"Four times!"

"Is that four times as big as one twin, or both? Oh, what the hell. Send her in."

"Oooh, Darren, you're so big inside me!" Charity squeaked in her little girl's voice. For once, Darren believed her. Even after three solid hours, during which Darren had hosed Charity's love-tunnel five times, it still felt as if he had become trapped in some piece of primitive agricultural machinery. Luckily, the machinery was leaking copiously or both of them would have been worn to a frazzle. Now he was flat on his back and the girl was on top, her girl-juices still gushing into his matted pubic hair, her gigantic sweaty tits wrapped round his ears. He cupped her taut, barely hand-sized backside and felt her tiny feet rubbing up and down his hairy legs.

With boundless energy she began pounding up and down again, keeping it up for ten minutes or more before deciding on a change of tactics and stuffing a champagne-cork-sized nipple in his mouth. "Suck it! Chew it!"

Darren did as he was told. Despite her petiteness, she was heavier than he was, thanks entirely to her epic breasts, which weighed comfortably more than the rest of her.

"Unghhh!" he grunted. "Yeah, yeah, yeah!"

"Yeah!" little Charity echoed. "Okay!"

Then they came thunderously, and together.

Somewhere in Darren's head, a little voice announced, "Six!" He could count, even if she couldn't. He pulled out of her and they rolled over. Within a minute they were both fast asleep.

"I hope we haven't caught anything," Kevin said. He was feeling his member carefully as they sat by the cottage wall in the sunshine. It was the next day, Thursday, and until this moment of concerned introspection Kevin had been cautiously bullish about their chances of actually completing this project before the end of the week.

"You managed to fuck young Charity last night?"

"Yeah. It was pretty good."

"You're going to have to deal with her on your own. Can you make it six times with her while I clear up all the rest?"

Darren smiled to himself. They'd done it six times last night, then three more times at dawn this morning. "Like you say, she's very tight. I'll need to invite her back again tonight," he said slowly. "And maybe tomorrow." He would happily have smuggled the monstrous-uddered little fuck-machine back with them in the car, but he had a sneaking suspicion he'd end up in jail before his feet touched the ground, even though her tits did hang all the way down to her knees.

"No problemo. You're doing a grand job. Keep it up. Ouch! I'm so fucking sore!"

Saturday evening they celebrated by bathing the twins again. They needed it. All of them needed it. Emerging from the river, pink and glowing, the girls immediately capered off up the village street without bothering to put on their dresses. In the gathering gloom of evening, Kevin let out a lusty roar and followed at a gallop. Darren's towel snagged on a thorn bush and he dropped his soap in the dust.

"Shit!" he said, getting down on hands and knees to retrieve it.

"Darren!" A husky little voice came from behind the bushes.

"Charity? Is that you? Where are you?"

"Over here. I'm stuck."

He made his way in the direction of the voice and found the girl apparently trying to climb a tree. Girls with breasts as big as beanbags shouldn't climb trees.

"What are you doing?"

"I was trying to see what you were doing to Maisie and Maud. I put my leg over here and it slipped off the tree trunk. My tit got stuck."

Darren investigated. The tree was one of those that leans across the water. She had straddled the trunk and wormed her way along until she came to a fork. That was when she'd slipped. Her breasts went different ways, the left one flopping down into the vee of the branches, becoming wedged when her bare foot slipped on the mossy bark. It looked painful, and Charity was sobbing as she realised she was probably stuck here for ever.

"Poor baby! Hold still." Darren walked round the tree, surveying the situation. As the river bank fell away, the unfortunate girl was about six feet above the ground, although her breast dangled through the fork, swinging ponderously with its nipple at less than shoulder height. He tried pushing it upwards but he couldn't lift its phenomenal weight very far above his head. It was too wobbly and it had a will of its own. If he'd been a couple of feet taller it would have been okay. He tried to climb the tree but Charity was straddling the trunk and there was no way past her. Her delightful bottom was right in his face, her spread thighs revealing her all-too-familiar pussy. The thought occurred to him that he could do more or less anything he liked to the girl and she wouldn't be able to raise a finger to stop him. But then he realised that she wouldn't raise a finger to stop him if they were together on his straw mattress back at the cottage.

"Help, Darren! It hurts!"

"My arms are too short. I need something to take the weight of your boob then I can kind of push it up. Something a couple of feet long..." He stared about him helplessly into the dusk. Nothing. Any broken branches had long been gathered up and used for firewood. "I know! Charity, darling, stay right there. Don't go away! Okay?"

"Where are you going? Don't leave me!"

"It's all right," he called. "I'm just going over here."

He blundered along in the darkness under the spreading trees. Thirty, forty yards. It had to be along here somewhere. "Ouch, fuck! My fucking shin!"

"Darren? Where did you go?" She sounded miles away.

He fumbled in his pocket and found the key, hobbled round to the driver's door and unlocked it.

"Fuck, it stinks in here!" Too late he remembered that they'd left their sandwiches in the car, which had spent the last five days with all the windows shut. It had been hot. At least, it had been hot for the last five days in the eighteenth century, so it had probably been similar in the twenty-first. He felt along the back seat in the darkness, aware that the interior light wasn't working and that the battery was probably flat. More problems when they finally found some petrol and tried to get the thing started. Ah, there. His cricket bag was underneath Kevin's. He unzipped it and felt inside for his bat. Got it!

He slammed the doors shut and locked it. Then back off in the direction of the girl.

"Charity? Hello?"


Over that way, stumbling right through a thorn bush, and almost running straight into the willow tree.

"Where have you been?"

"To the car for my bat."

There was no reply to that cryptic statement. He groped around for his big bath towel, folded it up into a thick wad, perched it on the thick end of the cricket bat and hoisted the whole lot until he felt the colossal weight of Charity's tit. Wobbling, he pushed upwards.

"Ow, it hurts, Darren!"

"Try to get a grip with your foot then lift your breast upwards while I push."

A long silence, then, "My what?"

"Your breast. Your tit!"

He sensed the girl moving precariously in the darkness above his head, then the load on his arms was suddenly reduced. "Wheeee!" she enthused. At which point he lost his footing and slithered down the dewy bank into the river. Towel and cricket bat fell into the middle of the stream with two distinct splashes, and Darren followed them. He lay on his back with the icy waters splashing around his face, thinking that some girls were just nothing but trouble.

"I love you, Darren!" the girl warbled. "Where have you gone?"

"In the fucking river! If you love me, come on in and get me out. No, on second thoughts. When you've finished climbing trees, pick up that bar of soap down there on the ground and bring it with you."


Scrubbed clean and five pounds lighter, Charity stood on the riverbank scratching herself while Darren made another excuse and left. The moon had risen, so finding the car was easier than last time. Ten minutes later, dried off with his spare towel, the incredibly buxom girl was warm and more or less decently clad in a sleeveless cricket sweater, a jockstrap and thick grey woollen socks. Her long hair was pulled through the hole in the back of a baseball-style cap to dangle in a ponytail down her back. The sweater didn't come down quite as far as her knees so the last foot or so of her breasts hung out of the bottom.

Darren had never seen such an arousing sight in his life. There was no time to take her back to the cottage. He dumped her on the grass and gave it to her big-time.

They left the village early the next morning. The twins, the widow and Charity came all the way down to the gate to say goodbye. That was as far as they were allowed to go. The boys slipped through and closed the gate behind them. Then came the kisses and the tears.

"Don't look back," Kevin warned, his voice hoarse and husky as they trudged down the rough track and rounded the corner. Those were the only words. Silently, Darren produced the key from his pocket and pressed the button. The boys looked uncertainly at one another but neither spoke. The alarm gave a chirp, the lights flashed and the doors unlocked.

"Daz... ? Remote locking... ?"

"Search me!" said Darren.

"Is it the same car... ?"

"It's a blue Astra Estate."

"Yeah, but..."

They got in and sank into the seats. Their bags were on the back seat where they had left them a week earlier. But something was missing.

"It doesn't smell of rotten sandwiches," said Darren.

"Should it?"

"It did last night when I was down here with Charity."

"You had Charity in the car?" Kevin spun round as if expecting to see the hugely-developed little girl smirking at them from the back seat.

"No, in the river. She got her tits stuck in a tree and I needed my cricket bat to get her loose."

"I see," said Kevin nervously. "Right."

"Here we go, then. Fingers crossed..." Darren put the key in the lock and turned it. The engine instantly burst into life. "Fucking hell!"

"It goes!" Kevin turned to his friend. "What is it? Something's different."

"It's a bloody diesel!"

"A what?"

"Either somebody's come along since last night and changed the engine, or it's not the same car! This one's got a diesel engine." He put it in first gear and spun the steering wheel. The car purred round in a well-behaved half-circle, surged through the river and shot away up the hill. Darren glanced in the mirror but the river, the gate, the church tower - all were out of sight.

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