Chapter 5: Shopping

Fluffy stood in the kitchen wondering why she was there as she waited for Mr Devonshire to come downstairs. He'd been up there for nearly twenty minutes, which seemed an awful long time to change his shorts for something a little less obscene. She'd already been back out into the garden and retrieved her more or less dry bra and T-shirt from the top of the umbrella. While she was out there she'd helped herself to another can of beer from the cool box, glancing round nervously in case he might be watching her as she gulped the nasty stuff down, ending with a nose-tingly burp.

Back in the house, she'd slipped up to Danielle's room again to fetch her shorts, which were just as tight as they'd been an hour or so earlier. Her friend couldn't help her out: Danielle had dozens of pairs of shorts and jeans, but none of them would come anywhere near the womanly proportions of Fluffy's backside. One of her dressing table drawers did, however, contain a pack of absorbent pads to fit in her panties. Five of them did make rather a sizeable bulge in Fluffy's shorts, but that was better than walking around looking as if she'd pissed herself. Tugging at her overstuffed groin she made her way downstairs again. Mr Devonshire was still upstairs, presumably in the bathroom.

She opened the fridge in search of another drink. There was plenty of beer in there, but it was another six-pack of cans that caught her eye. Cider. That was made from apples, so it might taste nicer than beer. It didn't taste much like apples, she thought as she took a lengthy drink. Or did it? She drank some more. Maybe it did: sour apples. She stared at the empty can before throwing it in the waste bin. The fridge door was still open so she helped herself to another can. The skin on her forehead felt tight, as if it had shrunk; an interesting feeling, and quite pleasant.

"All ready then?" said Mr Devonshire, appearing in the kitchen doorway. He smelled of some kind of masculine fragrance and looked slightly red in the face. He was wearing a pair of orange wrap-around sunglasses, like a fly's eyes. "Help yourself to a drink," he told her, glancing at the can of cider in her hand. "None for me, thanks, I'm driving."

It was warm in the car and her head buzzed. Her shorts felt horribly tight, stuffed as they were with a week's supply of absorbent pads. And after spending half an hour or more with her boobs hanging out of Danielle's ridiculously revealing bikini, her own bra and T-shirt felt almost Victorian. At least, it did until she leaned back in the passenger seat of Mr Devonshire's BMW and tried to make up her mind where the seatbelt was supposed to go.

"It fits between them," he advised her with a sly glance as he accelerated up the road. She blushed as she adjusted her position. The belt passing between her breasts made them look as if they stuck out about a mile, and her bra did absolutely nothing to disguise the half grapefruit-sized swellings surrounding her aching nipples. She almost wished she could have sat in the back seat, but that would have been too much like riding in a taxi.

"Where are we going? This isn't the way to town."

"Somewhere special. You want the best, don't you?"

"Do I?" Fluffy didn't even know what they were going out to buy. Food? More beer?

Mr Devonshire drove fast, sitting back in a relaxed attitude at the wheel. He'd changed his shorts for a pair of baggy navy blue pants and a faded blue work shirt. At least, Fluffy didn't find herself having to stare at his bulging manhood any more, but that didn't stop her trying. And now she knew what was in there she could clearly see the length and the enormous thickness of it where it extended down the inside of his thigh. How on earth could he live with a thing like that in his pants? It must have made even walking difficult. She wriggled her shoulders and sat forward in her seat, uncomfortably aware that her nipples were hugely erect again. It was crisply cold in the car. Her dad's car didn't have air conditioning. It didn't even have a very good heater. Mr Devonshire looked across at her and grinned foxily.

"You can make the seat recline a bit more if you like."

She felt that if she were to lie back, that tight feeling in her head would get even worse. "No, it's fine. It's a lovely car, Mr Devonshire." No amount of adjustment of the seat, in any direction, would make any difference to the protrusion of her teats. Even if she were lying back almost horizontally, she felt as if they would be brushing against the ceiling. They were tingling and throbbing, too. They'd been doing a lot of that these last few weeks, and she'd assumed it was something to do with their growth. It wasn't an entirely unpleasant sensation, especially when it spread by way of her tummy to between her legs. But now, it felt ten times as powerful as ever before, as if her boobs were swelling up. She wanted to squeeze them in both hands, just to feel if they were actually bigger, but she didn't really think it would be a good idea to let Mr Devonshire see her doing that.

She tried hiding her nipples by leaning right forward and resting her chin in her hands, but the position only forced her boobs together in the middle and glancing down she could still see their tips protruding in front of her forearms. So she kicked off her shoes, leaned back and brought her heels up on to the seat, wrapping her arms round her knees. It didn't hide her breasts completely, but it made her feel a little less conspicuous.

Mr Devonshire reached across and placed a hand briefly on her thigh. She melted. If he'd stopped the car at that point and carried her off into the fields, she'd have let him do anything to her.

Luckily, he didn't.

They were on the outskirts of a place Fluffy hadn't been to before, and swinging into an extensive car park adjacent to a group of new and identical buildings with red tiled roofs. A great big billboard declared that you were 'Welcome to Beanchester Retail Village'.

"Haven't you been here before?" he asked. "They've got loads of gear you can't find anywhere else. Well, not all in the same place the way it is here. Clothes straight from the factory. Come on, out you get!"

Fluffy had never been interested in clothes. All she'd ever needed were jeans and shorts and sweaters and T-shirts, so she could play with the boys without looking too obviously like a girl. Of course, that had now changed suddenly and dramatically. She was beginning to wonder about what she ought to be wearing, given her suddenly extravagantly-developed figure. It might be fun to look in all these exciting shops. She couldn't afford any of this stuff, but Christmas was only a few months away.

"Are you buying something for Danielle, Mr Devonshire?"

He looked at her strangely as he locked the car doors, bringing a whoop from the alarm. "For Danielle? Why should Danielle need any more new clothes? She could open a store of her own. We're shopping for you, Fluff!"

"For me? But..."

"Of course for you. Who did you think? But there's one thing. You'd better not call me Mr Devonshire."

"I know. I keep forgetting. Sorry, Ray!"

He shook his head, looking strangely embarrassed. There were a lot of people around, hurrying in the direction of the shopping centre or coming away clutching bulging carrier bags emblazoned with big designer names. Mr Devonshire looked around at all the faces. "Maybe that's not a good idea either. Just for now, while we're shopping, it might be better if you called me daddy."

"Daddy?" She snorted and giggled, falling back a few paces until she realised he wasn't joking. She caught up with him again in a hurry. "Daddy?" she whispered daringly and a little too loud. "What for?"

"Just a little game," he said, red-faced. "We don't want people to think I'm a dirty old man buying stuff for his beautiful, extremely well-developed young secretary, do we?"

They had entered the shopping area now; a single broad, cobbled walkway between two rows of shop-fronts. Fluffy looked at the crowds moving up and down, as if seeing them for the first time. They were looking at her, too. The men were either staring openly or taking furtive peeks. Some of them were watching her reflection in the shop windows. The women and girls were looking at her too, with a bewildering range of expressions from admiration, to envy, to undisguised hatred. And their eyes were all riveted to her chest. Her inescapable, undeniable, huge-nippled, wobbling young chest. It was distinctly worrying and Fluffy felt suddenly insecure. What if she saw someone she knew? She reached out for Mr Devonshire's big hand and smiled up at him.

"Okay ... daddy! Where are we going?"

"Right along here to the end. Are you sure you've never been here before? I thought everybody came here."

A lot of people did, Fluffy saw; expensively smartly casual people with loud voices and lots of money. Not like her mum and dad at all. All the way down the middle of the street she walked with her new daddy, with these strangers eyeing her up and nudging each other. "They're all looking at me," she whispered.

Mr Devonshire seemed surprised. "Of course they are, what do you expect, with those huge whoppers you've got?" He gripped her hand harder and seemed to be steering her across the street. Not to the large store built at right-angles across the end of the street, but to a smaller place tucked right away in the corner. "Here we are. Our first port of call."

"Discoveries?" Fluffy stared at the little boutique in growing confusion. "A bra shop? But I've already..."

"It's not just a bra shop, they make bikinis as well. Now, remember, you've got to call me daddy, especially in here. In fact, I'll have to keep out of the way once we're inside. They don't like men in bra shops for some reason. In we go!"

The bell tinkled behind them. Fluffy was poised for flight, hiding behind her new daddy. If it should happen to be Felicity Ballinger, she'd turn round and run before the woman recognised her. She'd been crazy, coming in here. Mr Devonshire was very kind, but her mother had been quite right; she shouldn't go with strange men. She certainly shouldn't be calling them daddy. The shop was almost identical to the one in the town, even down to the unpleasant little bell-push on the counter. She hoped Mr Devonshire didn't expect her to ring it...

"I'm just coming!"

A man's voice! Or was it? At least, it wasn't Felicity Ballinger. On the other hand, she wasn't altogether keen on the idea of a man fitting her for a bikini. The curtain twitched aside and the man was standing there looking at her. Fluffy felt relief flooding through her. Suddenly she wasn't feeling nearly so threatened at all.

"Good morning, sir, miss. How may I help you?" He chanted his ritual greeting and stood poised, awaiting an answer, one hand on his hip, the other stroking his chin. He looked Mr Devonshire up and down, raising an eyebrow - then both eyebrows - before turning an undoubtedly professional eye on Fluffy. "Mmmmm," he said, pursing his lips. "We are a well-endowed couple, aren't we!"

"My little girl ... my... daughter would like to look at some swimsuits."

"Oh, your daughter, of course. Perhaps a two-piece?"

"I think so," Mr Devonshire asserted. "A nice bikini. Of course, as you can see, she's ... a bit ... well, she's quite a large size..."

"Of course, sir. She certainly is! But this is Discoveries! Isn't that why you came here? What's the young lady's name?"

"Fluff..."

"Florence," said Fluffy.

"Excellent. Come through into the back room, Florence. If sir wouldn't mind waiting... ?"

"We won't be long, daddy!" Fluffy waggled her fingers at him and followed the man through the curtain.

"Find yourself something nice. Don't worry about how much it costs."

The man raised his eyebrows again as he entered the cluttered fitting room. "What an understanding daddy you've got, Florence."

"Fluffy. They call me Fluffy."

"They call me Gerard," said the man, pronouncing it the French way. "Now then. The kettle's just boiled. Or would you rather have something cold?" He opened an unusually large fridge and rummaged around inside. "Coke? Diet Coke... ?"

"Have you got any cider?"

"Cider?" Gerard stared and blinked. "I don't think so. I've got a beer, but are you old enough? I suppose you must be."

"Beer's fine," she said firmly. "I need the loo first. Do you mind?"

Gerard sighed heavily and showed her to the customers' toilet, a pink room containing at least a dozen vases of flowers. She sat down, her head spinning, and wondered if she might be slightly drunk. No, she decided, people who were drunk fell over all the time. She stood up and rearranged the order of the pads in her shorts, not quite falling over, then made her way out into the fitting room again.

Gerard handed her a tall glass of fizzing beer, then made himself a mug of tea with a bag on a piece of string. Fluffy watched him closely, trying to focus. "Do all your shops serve tea?"

Only one eyebrow this time. "You've been to other shops in the Discoveries empire?"

"For my bras, yes."

"That one you're wearing now?"

"Yes."

"Must have been some time ago."