Chapter 12: The Corkles Watch a Bit More Telly

Next Tuesday’s Billy Hall does Meter Maids. Billy’s a delivery driver who keeps being given parking tickets, and the toothless man and the monk-bald, curtain-haired mean one are his crew.

They get chased around by the meter maids, played by the three girls who survived the previous week, plus two new ones who look even dopier than the usual crew. The girl that the two workmen have locked inside the cupboard, hung by her knickers in a suspension-wedgie, is back as well.

There’s ‘a good bit,’ as Taudren calls it later, where Jeneela Clooper, the girl with the really big breasts and ultra-slim waist is made to bend forward over a van with a very short bonnet, with her spectacular breasts being squashed against a windscreen as she keeps trying to fit a parking ticket under one windscreen wiper. Billy, from behind, keeps jerking up her knickers, which is making her tip forwards. This keeps on happening, even as the lank-haired man starts spraying her with windscreen wash. This makes the wipers rotate across the screen, knocking Clooper’s (by now) naked breasts first this way, then that way on the slicked-up windscreen. Taudren is openly giggling right through, much to Yarra’s disgust.

In the final extended sketch - Billy Hall seems to do one every week now - Clooper and her friends are giving tickets out to a short line of low vans. As she comes to his passenger-side window to tell him and his driver off, Billy grabs a hold of Clooper’s bulging white shirt and drags her breasts inside his passenger window. Then the Toothless Man - the driver - leans over from his passenger seat and hand-winds Billy’s window up. This literally traps her, by catching her breasts so tight near their bases that she can’t pull the enormous things back out. Billy, gurning to camera, then unbuttons her shirt in speeded-up time. And, taking her nipples, in time with Billy’s music, he starts pulling her massive breasts left and right.

A passer-by, the Lank-Haired Man, dressed in suit and bowler hat, with his wide fringe of side-hair hanging down from the bowler, does a double-take at Clooper’s arse. Diverting from his walk to work, he flips up Clooper’s Meter Maid dress, takes her buttocks in both hands, and honks them.

Down the street, in sequence, more girls lean into short-height, two-seat vans, get their breasts trapped just like Clooper’s, pulled out of their shirts and wangled about. And, in turn, more bowler-hatted men pause their journeys to flip up the girls’ dresses and manhandle their buttocks.

The drivers of the vans start all of their engines. Then, very slowly, they start driving down the street, which forces all the girls to crab-walk sideways, holding the top of their windows with their fingers, while Billy and the passengers put gradually more effort into pulling, pushing, twisting and mashing the girls’ breasts. Left and right, up and down, hard up against the vans’ internal ceilings, back against the windows.

Meanwhile, outside, the bowler-hatted passers-by start putting equal effort into wedgying the girls. The whole procession moves slowly down the street as what looks like real passers-by stop and stare.

“That was really good,” says Taudren when it’s finished.

“That was just completely stupid,” Yarra says.

“So? Stupid is funny,” Taudren says.

“Too much stupid’s literally dangerous,” says Yarra. “Imagine if one of those women had tripped? “It could have...”

“Enough said, Yarra,” Lazabel jumps in. “These two stupids just won’t get it whatever you say.” She’s folded her forearms around her own chest - protectively - Lazabel is quite a bit bigger than Yarra up top.

Since Yarra has inherited those genes from her mother, both are within the range of chest sizes of the girls on the Billy Hall Show - Yarra towards the smaller end, Lazabel heading to the bigger end.

Taudren is inside his room - again - when Yarra heads upstairs on Tuesday evening. She suspects what’s behind his sudden change of habits. He’ll be wanking, she thinks. Probably be looking at Billy Hall reruns, most likely recorded on the house TV downstairs. She knows he knows how to record on the thing. He’d had to show his dad how to work its recorder at least three times. And the system is linked to the house’s network, so Taudren will be able to watch it in his room.

Wanking is a thing that’s come up between some of the girls in her class, rare occasions when she’s found herself in a group with her classmates, outside on the playground - usually because she’s been sitting somewhere and a couple of other girls have sat down nearby. Then when more have joined too, they’ve just assumed that Yarra is part of group. As last into the class - Molcum having moved the family for his job several times - Yarra has found that pretty much everyone else had friends already. It’s something she’s been used to for years though, and she’s more or less stopped fighting against. Instead, she’s taught herself to like her own company. She spends a lot of time reading at breaks. It can actually be annoying when other girls dive-bomb her personal space.

Wanking. “Yeah, I caught my big brother wanking once. I mean, his thing was right there in his hand. He didn’t see me for a second and it looked like this -” Seera Moule did a ridiculous-looking action.

“What, with his -” Ketta Sagren had asked.

“Yes, his thing.”

“How big was it?”

Moule had wrinkled her nose. “He’s my brother and I don’t want to know! Anyway, his hand covered most of it. Then he saw me and -” She’d jerked her body like it had spasmed. “He sort of, twisted his hips round quick so I couldn’t see.”

“Did you see it go off?” Letile Pasker had asked, as others had giggled.

“If it went off,” Seera Moule had laughed back, “it must have been straight into his bed sheets! What went off was his face, he went so red I thought his veins might pop!”

Wanking. The act of masturbation. When they go through puberty, boys start producing sperm. In their gonads. Or balls. Moving the hand up and down the penis shaft acts to stimulate the glans.

Girl equivalent, flicking the button. Ah. Girl equivalent? Oh so that’s what that is, that’s what you call that? Wanking sounds completely wrong though. Wanking sounds like a boy thing. Because girls’ hands don’t go up and down a shaft - a wank shaft. Girls are different.

Taudren, Yarra thinks as she stares at his locked and barred door with its pathetic instruction to Keep Out Or Die - has definitely gone through puberty, she thinks. Taudren’s door is always shut now, ever since the new Billy Hall shows came on. Taudren is wanking, right now in his room. Billy Hall. Was that weird, awkward thing that Taudren was obsessing over? “It’s really good, Billy Hall, isn’t it Dad?” Little wanker.

Molcum and Lazabel are in their bedroom’s wet-room en-suite. She’s down on her knees, bum in the air, with her hands stretched out in front and her sizeable breasts pressing the wet ridged floor, as warm water cascades from the broad drip-shower above. Molcum squats behind her reddened bum cheeks and, animalistic, inserts himself, squatting in his haunches, then slowly moves his own hips back and forth.

They use this room as their play space. It’s furthest from the kids’ rooms, in a small extension at the back. When they first moved in. Molcum did some DIY, adding sound insulation, bulking out the wall between the en-suite and their bedroom. Then he retiled over the new insulation. The bathroom was large enough to lose a little volume. He has some workmen convert the rest to wet room status, adding insulation in the floor below as well. The room underneath is Molcum’s theoretical study, though he only really uses it on days when he’s working fully from home. But it means their play space is quiet enough that they can make a bit of noise, now and then, and not alert the kids to their habits.

She’s his sub, he’s her dom. They’ve always been wired together like that, right from the start - they met in a fetish club, two decades ago, long before DR became insurgent in the polls on the back of their anti-corruption drive. Back then, Billy Hall - a new face, back then, on the comedy block - just did silly chases, saucy races, dance routines and bum-slapping gags. And actual jokes. Not smut disguised as comedy by ridiculous music.

They’d sworn they wouldn’t have kids for a while. But then Lazabel got pregnant - her uteral cap had failed one day - and she didn’t have the heart to cut the pregnancy short. Yarra was the girl who’d shown up, followed two and a bit years later by Taudren.

It’s a conversation they’ve had several times - afterwards, lying together in bed. “She’s not like me, Molcum. She isn’t wired like I am, at all. Taudren’s you alright - no question. But Yarra’s different. You can feel it, can’t you, Molcum?”

Lying on his back, in the dark, he shrugs and pulls a face. “She watches everything the rest of us watch.”

“Yes, she watches. But she watches from outside, looking in! Like she’s trying to understand. We’re aliens to her.”

“If it was just you and me, you’d find it funny, right? That big Clooper girl having to side-step down an actual high street, with her tits trapped up in Billy Hall’s window!” Molcum laughs. “I’m telling you, Laz, if I could do that to you and get away with it, I would!”

She says, “I know you would, you dirty bugger, and I’d probably let you. Just so long as no-one saw us. But Yarra wouldn’t, not for anyone! She’d rather be reading a book on - I dunno - on nuclear physics. Or geography or something. She’s not like us, Molcum!”

“Yeah but, we are. Why do we always have to hide that away, Laz? And Taudren’s the same, so why hide it from him? It’s mainstreaming now! The whole bloody government’s into it, Laz. The whole SPD thing.”

“That’s just wrong,” says Lazabel. “Honestly, for goodness’ sake - schoolgirls, Molcum? Seriously?”

He shrugs again. “It’s always happened. It happened to you. It turned you on.”

“I ... it might have turned me on. Looking back, it really was borderline abuse, that whole thing, Molcum. If I hadn’t actually liked it, I mean. There were plenty who literally loathed the idea.”

“Do you think Yarra loathes it?”

“I don’t know what she thinks, to be honest, Molc. She thinks it’s propaganda. She’s told me that.”

“Me too,” he says.

“There’s some dodgy phrases she comes out with now and then, phrases that the wrong sort of people shouldn’t hear. School strike sort of phrases - might well get her into trouble. I she wasn’t in that teacher’s class...”

“It might be him she’s getting it from,” says Molcum.

“Might be. I dunno. But ... please, for Yarra’s sake, can you try to tone down the way you play it up with Taudren? You’re encouraging him. And I might not mind so much - except - you know what I mean, Molc.”

“I know. Yarra,” he says.

In Ice Cream days, for the rest of the week, the other two bad girls, Baila Simkin and Lamona Crickles, are slippered (Baila on Wednesday) and hairbrush-spanked (Lamona early in the extended Friday episode), in a long scene which turns her backside some very odd shades of pink - then later, red and purple. There’s hardly any plotting. It’s just the one excuse they’ve provided so far, that the Head has given the Assistant general permission to practice his spanking on all four girls.

The Nieti Yorkle character is the big star of the week. She takes most of her remaining clothes to the Church Hall by the end of Wednesday’s show. She’s always now shown wearing the same increasingly worn-out loose top and pair of gussetless panties. The camera angles continue to gloat.

Other regular Ice Cream Days characters all, one by one, or in groups of two or three, witness her grinding past uphill, to her own house, or to Chitter Spugs’, more often than not with her bum in the air. Older, always-disapproving women, are in the Church Hall when Nieti turns up. They give her very disapproving, unsympathetic looks, which Molcum half suspects are genuine, not acted.

Tonder, her screen husband, meanwhile insists that she’s not allowed to wash the ragged clothes she’s wearing, or attempt to repair them. When Nieti does her stints in the afternoons for the moustachioed Colonel Rightwheel and the fierce, and meant-to-be-lesbian Councillor Pramblebush - the town’s one female voter - the tasks she’s given force whatever remains of her outfit on down to filthy-dust-rag status. By the end oe Wednesday, both her top and her panties are close to being shredded. They’ve been caught by brambles in Chitter Spugs’ garden, caught on splinters as she polishes Colonel Rightwheel’s floors, or plucked at by the female Councillor with disapproving fingers and a sneering nose. This all leaves most of Nieti’s left breast exposed, a good portion of her right breast, plus there’s one expanding rip now in the region of the gusset. While a permanent oil stain surrounding that rip renders any remaining cloth essentially see-through.

The Priest reacts to all with equanimity, barely even blinking by the time she’s puffing and panting around March Manderly effectively naked.

On Thursday at seven, a new show starts called You Bet Your Wives and Daughters, in which the male members of two competing families have to answer questions - and make bets on their answers - with the promise of financial rewards if they win, versus punishments for the wives and daughters if they lose - but definitely not for the gathers and sons. Taudren seems particularly taken with the show and tries to persuade Molcum, once Lazabel and Yarra have left, to enter the four of them into it.

“That’s a funny idea, Champ,” Molcum tells him, “but I’ll do your mum and your sister a favour and give that little idea a miss. I might just be able to twist your mum’s arm, but Yarra - she’d go kicking and screaming all the way. The only way we’d get her there is by slipping her a roofie. And I’m not doing that, Tauds. She’d never forgive us!”