SEX SLAVES OF EAST LONGSHOTT DOWN - PART X
by Infidel Dog


Authors' note: This story is a fantasy, involving the kidnapping of
young teenagers for the pleasure of a Middle Eastern Pasha. The Pasha
is not a cruel man, but his sexual appetite is not easily satisfied,
and, when it comes to girls. he has a number of preferences as to
their physical characteristics. He is rich enough to carry out a
program of enhancement to the girls in his harem to make them meet his
requirements.

To Western minds, the Pasha and his tastes would be seen as perverted,
kinky and sick. We prefer not to judge the man by Western standards,
but offer this account as a semi-fictional documentary record of the
doings of such a man. Please remind yourself constantly, in his land,
his behaviour is considered normal and reasonable.

If you object to scenes showing young girls being exposed to
situations which Westerners would find intolerably humiliating, read
no further. If you are below the age of consent in your community,
delete this material at once.

As this story is a semi-documentary, and much of the material comes
from a Middle Eastern employee of a harem, there is a great amount of
information about weights and measurements. This is unavoidable, but
can easily be ignored by the reader who is more interested in the
narrative. Weights and measurements in this story are presented in
metric units (metres, millimetres, kilograms and litres etc) as they
were presented to us by our correspondent in the Middle East. If
readers wish to convert these to US or Imperial units, we advise them
to have a means of conversion or a pocket calculator handy. We have
not included the equivalents in inches, pounds and fluid ounces, to
avoid unduly cluttering the text.

1 centimetre (cm) = 0.3937 inches
1 metre (m) = the length equal to 1,650,763.3 wavelengths in vacuum of
the radiation corresponding to the transition between the levels 2p to
base 10 and 5p to base 5 of the krypton 86 atom (as every French
schoolboy knows)
Also, as every British schoolgirl knows, one stone = 14 pounds





SEX SLAVES OF EAST LONGSHOTT DOWN - PART X
by Infidel Dog






Chapter 32:- Hassan Is Worried

I must confess, I was getting worried by the lack of action. Almost
six months had passed since I had sent my messenger out to the dealers
with orders for the biggest-breasted girl possible to be obtained.
Were the dealers ignoring me? I sent another messenger. He returned
later the same day, and handed me a letter from our most reliable
dealer, the rich one with his own helicopter and fifty blue suits.

"Look at this", I told Fatima, "he says girls are out of season! Who
ever heard such rubbish? Does he think I have just climbed down out of
the trees, or what?"

Fatima studied the letter. "He says the supply of European girls has
dried up because of the Winter season. That's reasonable enough,
Hassan. And he will be getting some girls from Brazil and the
Caribbean, but transport is more of a problem. Have patience, he says.
Fair enough. Have patience, Hassan!"

"I have been patient for six months. In two more weeks, the Pasha will
be having my guts for garters. And you tell me to be patient? What's
stopping these people? Look, he says there's a sale next week, but
from the information he has, he can't promise anything remotely near
Kitty's size. There must be *millions* of girls Kitty's size in the
world!"

"Make that hundreds, Hassan. And they don't all take holidays where
the dealers can scoop them up. If I was as big as Kitty, I would think
twice before lying on a beach!" She snuggled up closer to me. "If I
was as big as Kitty, would you still love me, Hassan?"

I didn't answer that. I sent out a messenger to tell Blue Suit that I
would see him at the sale in a week's time, and that Fatima would be
with me.


**********

"With respect, Hassan, girls like Kitty are once in a lifetime
occurrences. Possibly, in fact, almost certainly, the Pasha is being
unrealistic if he thinks he can snap his fingers and get another like
her in six months." The dealer brushed some ash off the sleeve of his
pale blue suit. "Look, I am honoured that you have chosen me to try
and find your new Kitty, but honestly, I wish you hadn't! I have spent
a considerable time searching, when I should really have been
attending to my other duties."

"Have you found nothing? Nothing at all?" I was thinking of Fatima's
plan to find the best alternative we could, and enlarge her.

"Nothing which would serve your purpose. I have located several girls
and young women with breasts which are truly quite spectacularly
over-developed, but for one reason or another, I do not think they
would be suitable for your master." He reached for a fat book on a
shelf behind him. "Here, gather round, I'll show you some filthy
pictures!"

Fatima stood behind me and looked over our shoulders as Blue Suit
opened the album. He flicked through the first half dozen pages, then
said, "here we are. Late-August onwards. When you asked me to start
searching." He turned the album slightly to give us a clear view. I
turned the pages. There was one girl on each page; beautifully
photographed, completely naked, in front, rear and side views, upright
and bending forward. Very thorough, I thought.

"Who's this one?" It was a tall, dark girl with jutting, conical
breasts and black hair.

"Angeliqua, South American. Twenty years old. Big, but probably not
big enough for you."

I leafed through a few more, some tall, some short, some chubby. A
small, skinny redheaded girl caught my eye, or rather, her tits did.
"What about this one?"

Fatima breathed in sharply. "She has red hair. The master does not
like red hair. You remember in 1983, we had to smuggle that young
redhead off the premises because he nearly exploded?"

Blue Suit shrugged and we exchanged mutual glances that
said,'what-can-you-do-with-these-people?' Another page, and there was
an Oriental girl. I pointed to her picture.

"Xiao Lim, remarkable! Especially for a Chinese girl!"

"Remarkable! Fatima?" I turned to her, wondering what was wrong with
this one.

"Exceptionally large breasts, unusual for an Oriental, yes, but he
will not gladly buy an Oriental girl after his experience of 1978!"

"Oh, 1978! Of course ..." I said, and turned another page. The next
girl had such colossal breasts I could not believe them!

"Who is *this*?"

"This woman is known to us only as 'Miss X'. Details are hard to find,
and she would be hideously expensive, even if nobody has bought her
already. We think she's from Canada."

I studied the pictures. How Miss X could stand upright, I had no idea.
Her fantastic breasts swelled out just below her collar-bones, curved
outward and downward at forty-five degrees, ending in nipples as big
as my entire thumbs. The lower edges of the monster breasts reached to
below the woman's crotch. "And you have no idea who she is, or where
she comes from, her age, anything?"

Blue Suit consulted his file. "Age twenty seven, it says. Ontario.
That's all!"

Fatima interrupted. "Twenty seven is rather old for the Pasha!" she
said.

"Surely, with tits like these, he would make an exception?"

"He might - they're certainly monsters - but it's a risk. Would you
like to be on the receiving end of the master's wrath if you offer him
a woman fifteen years older than Kitty?"

Our master is nothing but a bloody pervert, I thought, but those are
not sentiments you can express out loud. "Is that it, then? Nothing
else?"

"I haven't had today's returns in yet. There are always a few extra
ones after a weekend. Perhaps in ten minutes, the details will come
in."

"How do they come to you, by messenger boy?"

Blue Suit laughed. "You're really stuck in the dark ages over there,
aren't you, Hassan! Look, the details will come in on the computer. It
will give a beep, and the details will fill the screen. Here, have
another cup of coffee, and watch with me while it happens!"

And sure enough, in ten minutes, the machine beeped, and the screen
quickly filled with a long list of details. It filled the screen
several times over, then beeped again. "Right", said Blue Suit and
tapped a few keys. A brightly coloured bar seemed to highlight one of
the lines on the screen. "Let's have a look at some of these. This
one, for instance." He tapped a key and the highlight moved down the
screen. The line only read something like '033589 - English - 14 -
blonde - chub, v. Lge brst'.

He pressed another key and the screen changed. A large block of text
appeared, and in the corner, a small picture of a girl in a bikini.
She was quite plump, with long blonde hair, and an impressive pair of
tits. Blue Suit read out some details. "There you are! Danielle. Not
suitable for your purpose, but it shows what we can do. Let's look at
the rest of the list!"

There were thirty or more names on the list, all appealing in some
way, but none suitable for the Pasha. There was one entry left. It
said '033624 - German - various - fam - various - excep lge brst'.
Even I could work that out. And when Blue Suit called up the full
details, I felt a thrill run through me. This had possibilities!


**********

"How do we buy this family? Never mind the auction! How can we just
BUY these people?"

"It will cost you." Blue Suit swivelled in his chair and stubbed out
his cigar before answering. "If they went to auction, in two days'
time, I could bid for them. I might get them for a good price. They
will be offered as a job lot, not sold separately. So if you want the
twins, or the little girl, you still get the grandmother. Or vice
versa", he grinned at the thought.

"So wouldn't that force the price down?" Fatima asked.

"It might, I don't know. It might make them more attractive to a
dealer, knowing he can split them up after he's bought them, and make
an extra profit. And there's always the major risk, I might lose them.
You'd have to give me a top figure, and you could keep up with the
bidding on the mobile phone, but someone may bid more than you can
afford. Tell me, do you know how much your master will pay?"

He was living in a dream-world if he thought I was going to tell him
that! Apart from anything else, I didn't know.

"Exactly", he said after my silence. "So how can you hope to go to the
auction and expect to come away with this family? So you want me to
make an offer before the sale. You are going to have to pay well over
the odds. You can't win, and nor can I! If your master doesn't want
them, I'll be stuck with half a dozen assorted Germans. They'll eat me
out of house and home."

I pointed to the screen. "Can you print out those details, so I can
send a messenger to the Pasha and ask him for permission to spend the
money?"

"Certainly, if you think he will spend so many millions on the
strength of a few blurred photos and a couple of pages of printing."

I swallowed a lump in my throat. Pulling a piece of paper towards me,
I wrote a figure on it, then pushed it in front of Blue Suit. He
looked at it blankly, saying nothing. The sweat trickled down my neck,
all the way to the crack of my backside.

He screwed up the piece of paper in the ashtray, set fire to one
corner of it, and together we all watched it burn to a shrivelled
black heap of ashes. He broke it up with the end of his cigar.

Blue Suit thrust out a hand. "Done!" he said.


**********

I felt faint as we sat in the car on the way back to the harem. Fatima
was saying nothing at all. I was now heading for a death sentence. The
German family might be my salvation. They could be the answer to my
prayers. The Pasha might look at them, clap his hands in delight and
pay the huge sum of his money I had offered Blue Suit. Or not!

The German family might be a bunch of old dogs! The daughters might be
scrawny bitches with red hair and warts. The pregnant mother might be
expecting a litter of puppies. The grandmother might have cross eyes
and terminal flatulence. And I would be out of a job. That was the bad
news. The *good* news? I would be pegged out in the desert to be eaten
alive by scorpions.

I felt I had no choice. In a few more days, the Pasha would call for
me and ask if I had replaced Kitty yet. After that, I would be pegged
out in the desert to be eaten alive by scorpions. I wouldn't have long
to wait. In two days' time, the auction: and I would be travelling
back along this very road, the proud owner of three generations of
German women.


**********

Mansoor put down the phone, and sighed heavily. "Zulfiqar", he told
Emily. "Another auction sale, the day after tomorrow. I'll have to
take him again, so you'll be staying here."

Emily looked glum. "That bastard! You should have turned him over to
the top brass when you had the chance. Never mind catching the
ringleaders of the whole slave trade."

"Em, we've been through all this. I still have a chance to identify
the top slavers, if I just go along with Zulfiqar a little longer. We
had a close shave when the others escaped. I'm sure he suspected you
were involved, but he couldn't prove anything. He went mad when Toots
went missing, she was the best blow he ever had. Anyway, look on the
bright side, he'll get another two girls at the sale as his price, so
you'll have more company, and they'll be saved from a lifetime in a
harem."

"And sentenced to a lifetime with Zed! Some life!"

"There's another reason for me to go to the sale. I must still keep my
eyes open for a chance to get an inside contact at the harem. Whether
we use him to get Candi out or not."

"I've told you the answer to that one. Send me in there!"

"And never see you again? Anyway, they wouldn't have you. Your tits
aren't big enough!"

"They're getting bigger, Mansoor, haven't you noticed? In fact, this
last month, they seem to have got much bigger!"

He had noticed, certainly. He was waiting for Emily to tell him her
good news. She was waiting until she was sure.





Chapter 33:- The Germans Are Coming

The scene was familiar to Mansoor. The huge hangar-like room, heavy
with the scent of packed humanity, of smoke and perfume and sweat.
Round the perimeter of the room, the stands, with their groups of
forlorn victims waiting for the auctioneer's patter and the shouting
of bids that would sentence them to a lifetime of sexual slavery.

Blue Suit was bored by it all. He had already paid for the German
family, and they were securely bound and locked in an air-conditioned
motor home out in the car park, ready for Hassan to take them away. He
had marked his catalogue with a few queries about other girls, but
there was nothing that really excited him. It was a typical off-season
sale.

He would easily make his money back on the Germans, even if Hassan's
Pasha didn't buy them, but they still represented a lot of cash tied
up. He had seriously considered not bothering to come along, but sales
were in his blood, and there was always the chance of an unexpected
bargain.

Mansoor watched him from behind a pillar. The man in the blue suit had
earlier locked the door of a Winnebago in the car park, looking round
in all directions before heading for the sale room. Mansoor had walked
all round the motor home, but could see nothing of the interior. He
checked the registered owner. It was rented. He called for it to be
followed when it left, and a policeman in a dusty Land Rover was now
sitting smoking and reading a tatty novel close to the only exit road.

There was Zulfiqar, prowling round the stands, looking for something
to add to his own collection of girls. He had never recovered from the
loss of Toots. Caro and Frida were not such a problem, skinny girls
could be replaced, but young Toots had a set of breasts to die for. He
looked thoughtfully at a group of young black girls, then turned and
walked on.

He had stopped again, this time at the stand of the dealer who had
provided Caro and Frida. Zulfiqar hesitated, then disappeared behind
the heavy curtain.


**********

"Ah, your excellency, an honour and a privilege to see you once more!"
The dealer rolled his eyes at the matron in a frantic signal, but the
woman seemed transfixed. He hissed at her, and Zulfiqar stared at him
in concern.

"Are you feeling all right?" he asked.

"Oh, yes, it is not a problem, I have something in my eye, some dust,
it is nothing."

"Good! I would hate to think that you would try and hide any of your
excellent young ladies from me", and he turned to the matron with a
greasy leer.

The dealer deflated before Zulfiqar's eyes like a pricked balloon.
"Not at all. I was about to suggest showing them to your excellency. I
have six here today. *Six!*" He hissed the word at the matron.

"Behind here?" said Zulfiqar, striding forward with remarkable
swiftness for a big man. "Ah, so!"

"I meant eight. Eight, of course!"

"I will leave you six, don't worry! If you will excuse me, I will make
my selection." He snapped his fingers at the matron, who quickly
arranged the frightened girls into a straight line, shivering and
looking up at the sweating fat man in the cream linen suit.

Zulfiqar moved slowly along the line, taking his time, savouring the
moment. In time, he would have the girls stripped, and inspect their
sex parts and breasts. For now, he was content to gaze at them and try
to guess what they were like beneath their thin cotton shifts. He
fancied a small one with big tits, and perhaps something a little
older. Emily was getting a little above herself these last few months.
He might get rid of her. Mansoor seemed to spend a lot of time with
her, perhaps he would take the girl off his hands...

Right, a decision! "Let me see these two, and these!"

"Only two, your excellency, you wanted only two!"

"I will take all four if you want to be awkward. Just strip these four
and let me make my choice."

The matron hustled the other four girls out with little shooshing
noises, and stood behind the first of the chosen four, ready to
perform her sales routine. She looked at the dealer, her eyes
frightened. He nodded, and she released the hook at the back of the
girl's neck, the simple gown slid from the girl's shoulders to lie in
a heap at her feet.

Zulfiqar gasped, then covered his delight with a cough. The little
girl was exquisite. Her plump breasts were like grapefruit, her waist
was tiny, her little Venus mound innocent of any hair.

The dealer had noticed Zulfiqar's interest. "Look at her pudenda, dear
friend. See the length of her crevice? And so high that it actually
separates her plump and padded mound? This, in the harem tradition,
indicates a female who will be extremely passionate and hot." The
dealer opened the top of the slot and Zulfiqar noticed a fat clitoris
positioned right at the top of the opening. An unusally large clitoris
for a girl of her age.

"How old?"

"Thirteen", said the dealer. Zulfiqar nodded.

"Next!" The matron unhooked the next girl.

"This one's seventeen", said the dealer. The girl was nicely
developed, with tan-lines revealing where she had worn a tiny bikini
during the summer. Her face was defiant, arrogant, almost. Zulfiqar
felt threatened. Not this one, he thought.

The next one was less sure of herself. The dealer said she was
eighteen years old, and she had a certain maturity of figure; her
waist had an intriguing roll of fat, her buttocks were plump, her
breasts heavy and low-slung. She looked terrified that this fat man
was going to do something dreadful to her. He did. He squeezed and
tugged her nipples, pouched her pussy in his hand, stroked her buttock
and nodded to the dealer; and the matron led her away.

Zulfiqar waited for her to come back, standing patiently in front of
the fourth girl. She was a little thing, reaching only to his chest:
taller than Toots, nowhere near as busty, but ... there was something
about her. She had been standing with her eyes down, but the long
period of inactivity made her look up, and she caught Zulfiqar's eye;
then a little grin spread over her face, only for a second, then it
disappeared.

"Don't bother stripping her, I'll have this one", he said, and turned
on his heel.


**********

Emily watched Mansoor drive away in the black Range Rover. "Do either
of you speak English?" she asked.

"I do", said the bigger girl, "I am Dutch."

The little one said nothing, but smiled up at them. Emily shrugged her
shoulders. "I'm Emily, how do you do?"

The Dutch girl thrust out a hand. "Hendrickje! Pleased to meet you."
Emily shook her hand and turned to the smaller girl.

"Emily. Me Emily", she shouted, Me Emily, her ... Hen ... Hen what,
sorry?"

"Hendrickje."

Emily touched her chest. "Me Emily, her Hendreekya, you ..? She
stabbed out a finger at the girl, who grinned and thrust out a finger
at Emily. "No, your name? What IS YOUR NAME?"

Clearly, the girl didn't understand loud English.

"Oh, shit! Why couldn't he get a civilised one. Like you", she said to
Hendrickje. "Let's see if she'll follow us when we go for some food.
Are you hungry? They feed you well here, now we've got the cook
trained. Howay!" and she set off, jerking a thumb over her shoulder
for the little girl to follow them. She did, trotting happily after
them.

"Any road, welcome to the private harem of Zed, the Chief of Police.
We'll get you some clothes, and get your pussy-locks off, then dinner
will be ready. Here's Big-H, now. This is Hoda, Hoda, this is Hen, and
*this* is somebody else. Here, Hoda. See if she speaks Arabic."

Big-H spoke to the little girl in a long rambling sentence. The girl
smiled and stuck a finger into Hoda's chest. "Ah, that's what she did
to us, too. Hey, You Tarzan, Me Jane. No bloody use. Mebbe she's deaf
n' dumb. Looks happy enough, though. Right, can you rustle up some
food, pet. Ah'll have mine with these two. And some clothes, as well.
And their keys, if you've got them. If not, get the master key."

Hoda hurried away, grumbling. She returned a little later with a
bundle of silky harem clothes, loose pants and tops, dropping them on
the floor. "No keys. Not yet", she muttered.

Hendrickje took her gown off hesitatingly, turning away to hide
herself, then hurriedly shrugged herself into the pants and pulled the
top quickly over her breasts.

The small girl dropped her gown on the floor, then took her time,
holding her new clothes up to the light, admiring them. Eventually,
she stepped into the pants, her padlock swinging between her legs. Her
youthful face was in strange contrast to the maturity of her figure.
Her pudenda were somehow well-used in appearance, there was a little
spare tyre of fat round her waist, and her breasts were heavy, with
gnarled-looking nipples and areolae.

"What shall we call her", said Emily.

"You Tarzan? She'd better be Jane!" Emily thought it was as good as
anything, and nodded. "Me Hendrickje. She Emily. You Jane!" Hendrickje
pointed a finger firmly at the girl's chest.

Jane pointed a finger at Hendrickje, then at herself, then cupped her
breasts in both hands, and smiled broadly at the two girls.

"I think we're gonna have trouble with this one, Hen. Maybe Zed'll be
able to talk to her!"


**********

I still hadn't seen my German family. Blue Suit said he had locked
them in a motor home in the car park. He had provided a driver to take
the vehicle back to the harem. I could travel in it, if I wished. I
told him I wanted to see the Germans as soon as the sale was over.

"You can see them now, if you like", he told me, "I have finished
here." So I called Fatima and together we followed Blue Suit as he
strode out of the sale room into the sunshine. He led us to the motor
home, a big blue and silver thing. Looking around in all directions,
he unlocked the door, and ushered us inside. The light was poor, the
curtains closed. It took several seconds before I could make out
anything at all. Then I saw the outline of half a dozen pale faces
sitting in a row along the far side of the vehicle.

I must confess, my heart was thumping as Blue Suit pressed a button,
and a motor whirred. It began to get lighter as a roller-blind
uncovered a rooflight, letting diffused sunlight flood in. And I saw
the Germans for the first time. Quickly, I scanned along the line. I
didn't know what to think!

There was Grandmother at the end. She would have been in her fifties,
I suppose, her dark hair tending to grey at the edges. Sitting down,
it was not clear what any of their figures were like, but Grandmother
certainly had enormous knockers. They were about twice as big as
Fatima's. Next to her, her daughter, who was about thirty-something.
Obviously, she was still of child-bearing age, as she was noticeably
pregnant. About as far gone as Candi, I thought, six months or so.

Then there were the daughters. Next to their mother were a pair of
twin girls. They resembled their mother facially, and would have been
about thirteen. There was an older girl next to them, who resembled
her grandmother, and not just facially. Her breasts were easily as big
as the older woman's. Finally, there was a slim girl with
straw-coloured hair and hardly any figure at all.

Well, there wasn't a Kitty amongst them, but if we injected the oldest
girl, and fed her, we might get her up to a reasonable size. It was a
good move having the motor home laid on for this exercise. We would be
able to keep the family away from the harem for a couple of days while
we fed the big girl up to size. And the others, too, why not?

The arrangements were made. The vehicle would be parked in an
out-of-the-way spot for two nights. One of the physician's orderlies
was meeting us tonight with a supply of the first breast injections,
the genetic updating ones. Fatima would administer these. By tomorrow
night, we would see the first results, and by the following night,
their breasts would be as big as they would ever have reached if they
were allowed to develop naturally for twenty or so years.

It should be quite an interesting couple of days.


**********

Mansoor watched the Winnebago drive away. Interesting! The car which
had brought Hassan and Fatima had left in a cloud of dust, carrying
only the driver. From the dusty Land-Rover, the policeman watched the
motor home until it rounded the bend, then followed at a distance. He
could easily see and follow the trail of dust as the big boxy vehicle
reached the main road and turned to the East.

After an hour or so, it turned off the road and drove toward a tumbled
mass of rocks about a hundred metres off the roadway.

The policeman radioed for instructions, then carefully parked out of
sight.





Chapter 34:- Let Allah Be Praised!

The policeman stretched his legs and walked stiffly round to the back
of the Land Rover. He pissed for what felt like ages over the number
plate and rear lights. "Fucking job! Why do I have to get lumbered
with these sodding stake-outs? I bet they've stopped for a meal and an
orgy, and all I've got is a bottle of water and a wanking book." He
kicked the spare wheel viciously, which did little good.

He was limping back to the driver's door when the whine of an engine
in low gear came to him, and the beam of headlights swung crazily
across the landscape. "Just as well I hid the Rover", he muttered to
himself as the lights got closer and the vehicle roared past, a 4 x 4
pick-up truck. It turned to face the way it had come, and ground to a
halt beside the motor home.

The African no-ball was silhouetted against the opened door of the
Winnebago, then the driver of the truck went inside, carrying a bag,
and the door closed.


**********

"You're late", I told Ahmed. "Where have you been?"

"I thought he was never going. He was seeing to the girl Candi for
ages, taking measurements and everything. Then he spent another hour
going over the figures with the computer clerk. It was eight o'clock
before I could pick up the injections and get away. It's okay, nobody
saw me."

I hoped not. It was as well we had no new girls in at the moment. The
missing injections wouldn't be missed for days, and by then, the
Germans would be safely in the harem. "Can you administer these?", I
asked Ahmed.

He shook his head. "No, not me. It makes me feel faint, just thinking
about it. I always have to look away when the doc does anything
involving needles!"

What sort of medical orderly was it who fainted at the sight of a
needle. I asked Fatima.

"It's all right", she said, "I can do it. You push the needle into the
end of the nipple."

There was a crash as Ahmed slid to the floor. Bloody Hell.


**********

Blue Suit took them out for exercise and a shit. They went one at a
time, apart from the twins, who went together. Then they came back in
and he lined them up against the wall. It was the first time I'd had a
good look at them all. Unusually, they weren't dressed in their sale
smocks. Whoever had kidnapped them had brought them straight to the
dealer without the usual preliminaries. They were even wearing their
own clothes. Well, we'd soon get those off them. It wasn't cold in
here.

I spoke to them in English, ordering them to get their clothes off,
everything. They seemed surprised, and looked at one another, then the
grandmother hesitantly started undressing, and the others took their
lead from her. In a few minutes, they stood almost naked, with a pile
of clothing on the floor at their feet. They all still had their
panties on. The oldest girl still wore her bra, a huge pink satin
thing with cups big enough to hold soccer balls. I had to flick my
fingers at her several times before she took it off, dropping it on
the pile. That was better.

I was glad, in a way, that they had kept their panties on. Body hair
is deeply offensive to me, and these females were without exception
the most hirsute it had ever been my misfortune to see. And we had no
barber with us. I would have to view their hairy bodies for two whole
days! The grandmother scratched under her armpit as I watched. No
wonder she needed to scratch, there was enough undergrowth to hide a
nest of rats under each arm. I felt ill, just staring at it.

She finally stopped scratching and stared back at me. If she was
cleaned up, I thought, I could go for this one! Her breasts were
mighty things, like great bags of dough, hanging down to her stomach
below the navel, although they hung apart, so her deep and puffy navel
was visible. A line of dark hair traced a path down from her navel and
disappeared into the top of her pants.

The twins clung to their grandmother. Fatima asked the mother their
names. "That's Wilhelmine, and this is Stephanie", she said, and the
twins looked up at her, wondering why they were being mentioned. They
were chubby, I could see now, and their hair was golden blonde. They
resembled their mother, not having the huge breasts of their
grandmother. From the point of view of pure research, it would be
interesting to see if they would grow large under the genetic updating
injections. Their pudenda looked plump beneath their knickers, which
for some unfathomable reason were decorated with small pink rabbits.

The pregnant one, the grandmother's daughter, was also blonde, her
hair swept back off her face and tied up in a pony tail. Not my
favourite hair-style, but I could see that some Europeans must like
it, as it showed her bone-structure. Her breasts hung down heavily on
top of her swollen belly, the nipples erect and the dark haloes puffed
up. Her big mound tended to hide her hairy crotch, I was glad to see.
At least, I thought, once the barber has got rid of all that fur, I
would be able to see her puffy, wide open pudenda. It would be worth
the wait!

The big daughter, whose name was Helga, excited me greatly, now that
she had removed her brassiere. Her breasts hung nowhere near as low as
her grandmothers', although I could see they were if anything slightly
larger. But she had her grandmother's dark hair, and so much of it!
Her briefs were of an almost transparent material, and they were
nearly bursting with hair. Great curls spread out at the sides of her
pants, as well as over the top. Hair grew down the insides of her
thighs. I could imagine her armpits being just as bad, but fortunately
she kept her arms to her sides. Shuddering, I passed on to the little
one.

Ziggi, I supposed, was only about eleven, but very small and skinny,
so she could have been any age. Her hair was a darkish blonde colour,
and hung in waves about her shoulders. Her chest was completely flat,
apart from two puffy mounds around her nipples, and her hips were
narrow. At least, this one wasn't a hairy ape, I thought.

Fatima had opened the bag the orderly had brought. There were a dozen
syringes in there, enough for six treatments, one in each breast. I
decided to give the older girl one tonight, and one each in the moring
and tomorrow night. That should show some results!

The others could be shared out between the twins. I instructed Fatima.

"Do the dark girl, and the younger one's breasts", I told her. Then I
had to go and sit in the kitchen area. I can't stand the sight of
needles.


**********

The policeman had reported the arrival of the pick-up truck by radio.

"Follow him if he leaves", the controller said. "We'll use the chopper
to keep an eye on the Winnebago if it moves anywhere."

So the Land Rover set off in the wake of the pick-up, and arrived at
the gates of the harem half an hour later. Well, that was
confirmation, as if they hadn't known already.


**********

By the following evening, tempers were getting frayed. Blue Suit
seemed to sleep the whole time, curled up in the passenger's reclining
seat. The driver spent all day reading and preparing food. Fatima sat
in silence, talking occasionally with the mother or the grandmother.
The girls seemed restless, and I noticed the older girl rubbing her
breasts frequently through her shirt. She had stripped off earlier and
taken her bra off, putting her shirt back on.

By the time we had all eaten a bad-tempered evening meal, it was time
for the last of the injections, and Fatima prepared the needles again.
Before heading for the sanctuary of the kitchen, I stole a quick look
at the big girl. She had grown considerably, I could see, and once she
took her shirt off, her bust was obviously much larger. I had no
chance to look at the twins, Willi and Steffi, as Fatima was already
pushing the needle into the girl Helga's nipple.

Another night in this hateful little vehicle. Even with the air
conditioning on full blast, it was starting to smell of unwashed
bodies. It must have been all that female body hair, I thought.


**********

Today was the day we headed home to the harem. The plan was to arrive
some time in the morning, get the females prepared and cleaned up,
shaved and dressed, then to inform the Pasha. They would be ready for
him by afternoon. Meanwhile, before we set off, there was just time
for a quick inspection of the results of the injections. I asked
Fatima to bring me Helga and get her stripped off.

The results were beyond my wildest expectations! She would never be
another Kitty, but as she stood before me without her shirt, I felt a
thrill run through my loins. Helga was a big girl! Her breasts were
probably twice as big as they had been. Needless to say, she was
unable to understand what had happened to her, and to them, but she
seemed pleased as well as confused. Helga would please the Pasha. I
felt better already! "Bring me the twins!" I told Fatima.

She looked at me strangely. "The twins?"

"You know? Willi and Steffi, or whatever their ridiculous names are.
Two little girls, about so high ... yellow hair ... ?"

"I know the twins", she said, patiently, "I just wondered why you
wanted to see them. I thought you were interested in the effect of the
injections."

Stupid cow. "Of course, that's why I want to see them."

"They haven't had any! The injections went to Helga, as you said, and
Ziggi!"

"Ziggi? That little shrimp? What's the point of injecting *her*?"

Fatima shrugged her shoulders. "That's what I wondered when you told
me to do it. I still wondered last night, when I gave her the last
jabs. But this morning, I realised that you knew what you were doing!
I should never have doubted your wisdom in these matters."

Sarcastic bitch! She cocks up a simple instruction, wastes a load of
expensive injections by pumping them into a titless child, then starts
going on at me for giving her the wrong orders.

"Well", she said, "aren't you going to inspect the kid, or are we
going to sit parked in this desert for another day and a night?" And
she snapped her fingers, and shouted for Ziggi.

I had to sit down. Ziggi was wearing a shirt I recognised as one of
her mother's, but she could only just get herself into it, and half
the buttons wouldn't meet across her chest. She took it off when
Fatima snapped her fingers again. "Allah be praised", I said.


**********

My heart was singing as we drove into the harem entrance, and Fatima
herded the German family inside, looking about them in wonder. It is,
shall we say, opulent. Once inside, they would be taken in hand by
Fatima's matrons, and the next time I saw them they would be in a
presentable condition.

I would take a bath myself, then it would be time to inform the Pasha.
I called for the boys...


**********

The Pasha wasn't available when Hassan made his call. He was prowling
around the corridors, finally coming to a halt at the engineer's
workshop.

"Master, an honour to see you again. How can I be of service?"

"Indeed, it is a pleasure to see you, Mr Engineer." The Pasha was in a
rare good mood. "I need your suggestions for a new piece of
equipment."

The engineer brightened. Things had been quiet since the breakout six
months before. The Pasha had been incensed at the loss of Kitty, the
jewel in his crown. The measuring table had stood unused. No new girls
had been bought in. The elaborate machine which had been made
specially for the Swedish girl, Erica, had been put to one side. It
would fit none of the other inmates.

"How can I help, excellency? A new machine, perhaps?"

"A new machine, but an old idea." The Pasha took the seat the engineer
was offering. Coffee arrived as if by telepathy. "You remember, when
my father was alive, we always had a supply of those special ceramic
pots about the place?"

"The *special* ones? Very specially shaped ones?" The engineer
remembered them all right.

"It is a technique I have always wanted to try, but using modern
methods. You can help, I think. In the old days, you remember how we
used to introduce a girl into a specially-moulded pot. She would climb
in through the neck of the pot, and they would feed her and feed her
until she fitted the contours of the pot exactly!"

The engineer wiped his brow. He remembered only too well.

"Then we would break the pot and the girl would step out, formed into
a perfect shape!" The Pasha's eyed were gazing into the distance as he
recalled the great unpotting ceremonies of the past. "There were
imperfections of the method. The shape of the pot could allow the girl
to develop greatly in the buttocks and the breasts, while remaining
wondrously slim elsewhere. But we were at the mercy of the skill of
the potter, as well as the shape of the girl we chose for fattening."

"I remember, she would have to be exceptionally slender to climb into
the pot, or her hips would not pass through the waist aperture."

"A serious limitation, as you imply. Now, think of a mummy case."

"Yes. In two halves like a sea shell. Hinged along one edge!"

"Right! Could we make a suitable case which would accept a girl for
fattening?"

"Easily. With modern materials. And at the unpotting, or the unveiling
ceremony, we would unlock the case, unhinge the two halves, and the
girl would be revealed ..."

"... In all her considerable glory! With a waist small enough for my
hands to encompass." The Pasha encircled an imaginary waist with both
hands, and the engineer's eyes goggled. The master had small hands.
"Meanwhile, using modern techniques, the young woman's breasts could
be grown into a remarkable shape, pointing straight out in front of
her like torpedoes, with long, long nipples!"

The engineer averted his gaze; the master was becoming visibly
aroused. "And her buttocks could be allowed to become enormous,
master?"

"I think so, Engineer, I think so! You have the idea. Prepare me some
drawings. No! Build a prototype, we will try it out. All we need is
the young woman, and those are cheap enough! By next week, then?"

"I will start immediately, excellency."

"Splendid. Money is no object, of course!"

"Of course." This was more like the good old days!





Chapter 35:- The Pasha Will Be Pleased

There was an air of expectancy. Nothing like this had been seen since
the days of Kitty and her friends. The Pasha was coming for an
inspection of new girls. The stage was set, the spotlights blazed
down. The video crew and the photographer waited, fiddling with their
equipment. These must be some extra special girls.

A family of them; three generations, it was said. The matrons and
attendants had seen the dealer's wagon outside, they had seen the
females brought in, they had lurked behind archways and observed as
they were bathed and shaved.

"I swear it. The old one, the grandmother, she had tits out here, or
down here. And hairy. Yuck! I never saw such hair in my life!"

"Then you didn't see the big one, the oldest granddaughter? Hairier
than a black cat. Under her arms and around her parts, too. Tits like
pumpkins. As big as Kitty's were when she first arrived here!"

"Twins, did you see them? Perfect, unspoilt, and once they were
shaved, wonderful little pussy lips like butterflies' wings!"

"The mother, tight as a drum with babies, plump belly, plump bottom,
fat tits ..."

"What about that youngster. Skinny, straight up and down, and tits as
big as her head!"

"The Pasha will be pleased."

"Well *that's* something to be grateful for..."


**********

My only worry was that the girls hadn't been infibulated; there simply
hadn't been time. The physician would be on hand to test their
virginity, but it would have been better if their purity could have
been assured. Still, we couldn't have everything, and tits like these
didn't happen every day. It was a pity that Fatima had to remind me
that *these* tits had only grown to the size they were because we had
given them a little help.

Silence fell. In the background, Blue Suit stood up respectfully. The
Pasha strode in, fixing me with an eye like steel. "Ah, Hassan. You
have returned. I trust - for your sake - that you have something to
show me. I have a new project which I am keen to pursue. I would like
to think that you have a suitable subject for it. As well, of course,
as a replacement for my little Kitty!"

"I have something *different*, master. Kitty was unique. There could
not be another like her in the world. But what I have brought you will
serve you for many years. It is a complete family. And the beauty and
fullness of the older generation will serve as a constant reminder of
the delights still to come!"

The Pasha nodded. He likes a good speech. "Let's see them, then!" He
likes a good speech, but he can be impatient at times. I nodded to
Fatima, and she clapped three times.

I had positioned myself where I could see the family as they came out
of the bathroom complex and stood in a line behind the stage. Now,
*I'd* seen them before, but even I wasn't prepared for the sight as
the family filed into my view. They were all identically dressed in
loose jackets. That was all. No pants, nothing. Just these jackets
that came down to their thighs. They afforded just a glimpse of what
was underneath. And in some cases there was quite a lot underneath to
glimpse.

Fatima went into her spiel. "Here is grandmother", she announced, and
the woman stepped forward into the spotlights. Her jacket swung open
as she moved, revealing her full breasts bumping together and swinging
apart. The lips of her newly shaved pussy gaped apart as she stood,
legs slightly parted, gazing down at the Pasha. She licked her lips to
wet them, and at the same time, I could see wetness on her other lips.
Grandmother was becoming excited. The Pasha would be able to see it,
too. And I was five paces away, and I could practically *smell* it!

The master nodded his approval. Fatima turned the woman round in the
approved fashion, and bent her over to let her breasts hang to their
full length. "Thank you, Fatima. Let the physician examine her. She is
very interesting, this one!" Promising, I thought, as Fatima ushered
the grandmother away.

The next one was the pregnant mother. Not as assured as *her* mother,
she kept her head down, her shoulders hunched. Her pose was not enough
to stop her mounded belly slipping itself out into the open through
the front of her jacket. A ripple of applause sounded, and she looked
up, startled. Fatima stepped closer and bent the woman backwards
slightly, then opened her hairless pudenda as wide as she could to
show off the typically large, dark purple ornaments of a pregnant
female. The Pasha was very interested in her equipment, came closer
and gave the hanging labia a thorough inspection.

"Physician! One for your department, I rather think...! Next?" His
eyes were bright. The master was interested, that was a fact.

Now for the daughters. The order of presentation was important. I
hadn't had a chance to discuss the order with Fatima. "Now", she said,
"Willi and Steffi!" Well, I thought, she got that right.

The twins came out, holding hands. They were looking round for their
mother and their grandmother, who had disappeared. They were on their
own under the glare of some very bright lights. They could see very
little beyond them, but there was an important-looking man out there,
looking at them very critically. Without quite knowing why, they
simultaneously gave him a bow. I think he appreciated that. He stepped
forward, to the edge of the stage.

"Hold it, Fatima, keep them there." And he turned one of the twins
round so her back was towards him. That was the good thing about
identical twins, you got two views for the price of one. He inspected
them closely, especially around their sex parts, and finally said to
the physician. "There's a lot of potential down there. Give these the
same treatment you devised for the Swedish girl, Erica! Give them both
the same treatment, and they can have a little contest between them,
see which one gets biggest!"

He was going to buy the whole lot! I knew it now. And the best two
were still to come. My future was assured. My guts were not about to
become garters.

"And now, Helga!" A cheer rang out as the girl emerged, blinking, into
the spotlights. Whoever had made the little jackets had seriously
underestimated Helga's bust measurement. Easily done, I suppose. There
was as much of Helga outside the jacket as in.

"How old is this one", the master asked. He was obviously comparing
her with Kitty.

"Nineteen, sir", said Fatima. Was she? I hadn't know her age, but
Fatima had found out somehow. A bit old, nineteen, one of the oldest
of the young girls in the entire harem. But those breasts made up for
it.

"She'll do. She's an old hag, but I need one or two mature ones about
the place!" This was the Pasha of old. "Spin her round, let's see her
backside!" He inspected Helga intimately. "Bend over", he said, in
English. Helga hesitated, until Fatima gave her a crisp smack across
the buttocks. She bent forward. Her breasts plummetted satisfactorily
downwards. The Pasha played with them for a while, feeling their
weight and swinging them from side to side. "Okay. Have a look at her,
doctor, I can't imagine how she's still virgin at nineteen, but she
might have been locked in an ivory tower. Right, one more, is there?"

He knew there was one more, and he knew well enough that the last one
would be the star attraction. We could have done with a roll of drums
to introduce Ziggi, but Fatima did well enough on her own. Ziggi came
out, looking around in all directions. The camera had been whirring
and flashing for the arrival of all the other females, but now it went
into a positive photographic orgasm. 

Ziggi's little jacket stayed nicely in place over her magnificent new
boobs. The rest of her was so small, she was nothing but a walking
pair of breasts. The room was holding its breath. Everyone knew that
the Pasha's every mood for the next few months was going to be
affected by this girl. She seemed to recognise something special about
the moment as well. She looked directly at the Pasha and smiled. He
smiled back.

Then he turned to me. I wondered what he was going to say. The smile
hadn't left his face.

"Call the engineer", he said.

What? Still, what could I do? I called the engineer.


**********

Blue Suit was leaving. In the inside pocket of his lightweight jacket,
a fat roll of notes, in full payment for the German family. My knees
still shook with the memory of how close I had come to being part of
history. I followed him to the main door of the harem buildings.

His driver already had the engine of the motor home running to get the
air conditioning working. Blue Suit turned to me.

"Well, I have to confess, I had my doubts from time to time. But you
seem to know your Pasha better than anyone else. Obviously, you knew
all along that he would buy the whole family!"

"I did? Well, yes, I suppose so. One gets to know his ways after a
while!" The man smiled at me strangely.

"That stuff you injected the girls with, it works pretty well. You
seemed quite confident it was going to do the trick for those girls,
and you were right." He drew little patterns in the sand with the toe
of an immaculately polished shoe. "If ever you were able to ... come
by any supplies of that stuff, I think it's safe to say you could name
your own price!"

"I'll remember that. But it needs to be administered under highly
controlled conditions."

"Oh, yes, I can see that!" he said with a grin, and stuck out his
hand. "A pleasure doing business with you, Hassan, thank you." And he
strode briskly off to the motor home. It revved up and took off with a
roar as soon as the door closed.


**********

Over the next few days, the atmosphere was hectic, like the early days
of Kitty and her friends. I divided my time among the various places
where the new girls were to be found. There were hosts of measurements
to be taken, girls to be weighed, breasts and sex toys to be
photographed.

The engineer was back, supervising the operation of the measuring
table, for Helga and Ziggi. The physician was busy with needles and
calculator. After a few days, he confided to me, "you know, Hassan,
something worries me. I have given the whole family the usual strength
of breast injections, the genetic updating ones, and in some cases,
there have been very satisfying results. Here, look at the figures."
He showed me sets of figures on the screen. It showed what I had
secretly feared, of course. Helga and Ziggi had not increased nearly
as much as would have been expected.

"Here, look at the photos, they show it even better." It was true.
Grandmother had not increased at all. The mother was about thirty per
cent larger. The twins had grown a highly satisfactory eighty per
cent, to something like a 120 cm bust measurement. But Helga had added
no more than 15 cm, and Ziggi only 20 cm.

True, that made them 180 and nearly 150, respectively, but the
physician had expected much more. He had started the breast food
injections that morning, but was worried that the Pasha would spring a
surprise inspection and question the difference in growth between the
big breasted sisters and the twins. I left him shaking his head and
going over his figures again.

The engineer called me. "Come with me", he said, mysteriously, and
hurried off to his workshop. In an inner room was a strange object
shrouded in a sheet. "Look at this", he said, whisking the sheet away.
"It's for Ziggi!"

"A coffin? For Ziggi?" it was an unusually shaped coffin, but I
couldn't imagine what else it might be. It was about 1.2 metres long,
and less than a metre wide. The top was flat, like a coffin lid. But
one side of the box was bowed outwards toward the wider end. There was
a circular hole in the wider end of the box. Along one side were stout
hinges, and along the other side a number of pipe connections of
various sizes. Coils of red, blue and brown rubber hoses were attached
to these. At several points on the lid there were large electrical
sockets with multi-way plugs, the sort of thing the measuring table
used on its height-sensing tables to measure the length of a girl's
breasts.

The engineer stood, arms folded proudly. "Well, what do you think?" he
asked.

"Okay, it's not a coffin. What is it for?"

"Look", he bent down and fiddled with the catches, then opened the
lid. It was like one of those ancient Egyptian mummy cases. The inside
was lined with a plastic foam material, quite rigid, and I could see
straight away that it was shaped like the profile view of a female
body. An unusual female body, certainly. Clearly, an unusual female
would get into the box, lying on her side, with her head protruding
through the hole in the end. Then the box would be closed. "See" he
said simply. "It's lying down at the moment. It will stand up, like
this." And grunting, he stood the box on its end.

I could see now, the foam interior would fit a girl of Ziggi's height.
But the shape was ridiculously exaggerated. The middle, where her
waist would be, was tiny. She would probably have difficulty getting
into it. The bottom, though, and the top, were much too large. And the
top was an odd shape. The breasts appeared to grow out from the body
and point upwards! They ended in torpedo-like points.

"Is Ziggi supposed to fit in here?" I asked him.

"Eventually, she'll fit it perfectly", he said. "She'll get in, and
we'll close it around her: see, her arms will go in these compartments
up here, so they can move but she can't touch anything, either
outside, or any part of her own body. She'll stay in there while she
gets fed, and fed, and fed! When she's let out, her boobies will fit
the shape of the form, and her bottom will fill this bit down here.
Her waist will be a tight fit at first, but she'll get used to that
after a day or so."

"Ingenious", I had to admit. I frantically tried to think of a flaw in
the scheme. "How do we feed her?"

"Her head sticks out of the top. We just stick food in her mouth.
There are holes in the ends of the breast spaces where we can inject
breast food directly into her nipples."

This was a bizarre idea. I had never heard of anything like it. "How
does she go to the toilet?"

"She doesn't *go* anywhere! She stays right here. Whatever she passes,
liquid or solid, goes out through the large brown pipe here." Oh, it
was too *horrible*! I felt ill. "And these pipes feed hot and cold
water in, to spray her bottom end and keep it clean. The last thing we
haven't fitted yet is the warm air pipe to dry her off and stop her
going mouldy!"

I had to leave the room as a matter of urgency. The engineer looked at
me strangely as I rushed out...




<End of Part X>


Previous parts were released at weekly intervals, with the exception
of Parts VII and VIII, which were posted together, all on
alt.sex.stories.
All parts can be found on ftp.netcom.com /pub/ac/acotto/stories in the
appropriate subdirectory.
Alternatively, contact gspot@nildram.co.uk