SEX SLAVES OF EAST LONGSHOTT DOWN - PART XII
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 kilogram (kg) = 2.205 pounds
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 XII
by Infidel Dog





Chapter 40:- The Power Of Communications

"Mr Abidjian to see you, sir. In the reception room."

"I'm on my way."

He was early. We could get this new woman installed, have her cleaned
up and the Pasha could be using her before dinner tonight! It would be
a bonus, especially as Candi was suddenly not available. Apparently
she was too heavy for the physician! Now Fatima's matrons were
flushing the poor girl out. She'd be a shadow of her former sumptuous
self in no time.

Blue Suit rose to greet me, hand outstretched. "If only all my
business could be concluded with such alacrity", he smiled, "I would
be retired by now. I have her in the next room. Would you like a full
viewing?"

"Let me see her. I will tell you if I need to see more."

He nodded, and clapped his hands. Someone must have been listening on
the other side of the door, because it opened immediately and a woman
was ushered in. The door closed after her. She wore a simple white
cotton garment as if she were being auctioned. A blonde woman, clearly
large-breasted and pregnant, pretty face, frightened looking. They all
looked frightened when they first came here, I have no idea why. Her
face seemed somehow familiar, but I suppose all Swedish women look the
same.

"What's her name?"

Blue Suit looked at her. "Fanni", he said.

"May I see her?"

He stepped behind the woman and deftly unhooked the gown, flicking it
off with a single movement, like a magician. I suppose he practised
that in the evenings. The woman looked around her in panic for a few
seconds, then lowered her eyes as I peered at her. Conscious of not
wishing to embarrass and humiliate the woman too much, I lifted her
breasts one at a time, feeling their substantial weight and firmness.
Each one needed both hands to lift it. Not bad!

Her belly felt okay, I supposed, although I never knew what they were
looking for when they felt pregnant women's bellies. I bent down for a
look at her sex parts. I had to poke around a bit, getting my hands
all messy, but she looked a good colour down below. Quite a rich
purplish brown. Round the back. It was a bit undignified, walking
around the woman while crouching down. I should have made her turn
round. Still, she seemed to know what to do, as she bent over as soon
as I got round the back, and moved her feet apart so I could see more
or less everything. 

The wretched slut-bitch farted in a provocative and disrespectful
manner while I was inspecting her. Was this a sign of rebelliousness,
or of an unsuitable diet? I decided to give her the benefit of the
doubt.

I stood up straight and nodded to Blue Suit, who, I swear, was looking
at the woman and grinning at her. His face went blank immediately and
looked at me with respect. "She'll do, okay."

"Shall I wrap her, or will you be taking her straight away?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Sorry, it is just my little jest. I used to work in a shoe shop."

"Ah, I see." Strange people, some of these dealers. "Here's my cash
order for thirty-seven thousand, five hundred. If you will take it to
the clerk, he will pay you."

"Fine, fine. A pleasure as always. Perhaps if I find anything else, I
will contact you. Your master's desires are well known to me now."

"Please do that, thank you. Now, if you will excuse me..."

"Of course." We shook hands again, and I snapped my fingers for the
woman to follow me.

She was a long way behind when I reached the medical centre, and I had
to wait for her. I would have liked a chat with Ziggi while I was
waiting, but the girl was apparently asleep, her box in the horizontal
position. The new woman finally arrived, puffing and panting, her
breasts bouncing up and down on her belly. She stared in amazement at
Ziggi as she passed the apparatus. Why was she looking at me so
strangely? What was the matter with her, did she think we were going
to put *her* in a box like Ziggi's? These ignorant women!


**********

I went back to the medical centre later that afternoon to collect the
Swedish woman, Fanni. The physician should have finished with her by
now. Of course, it was necessary to pass Ziggi's box on the way, and I
just happened to have a rather special confection called, for some
reason, Death by Chocolate. She was awake, and looking quite chirpy,
so I fed her the whole thing, even though it was described as 'Family
Size'. They must have very small families in the West.

The woman was ready. One of the matrons who spoke English was holding
a halting conversation with her, although I can never imagine what it
is that women can find to talk about. They'd washed and shaved her,
they'd checked her out and said she was ready for use straight away.

That would please the Pasha. He'd have her by dinner time. A good,
huge-breasted pregnant woman, and only thirty-seven and a half
thousand! Perhaps he would reward my business acumen. I was about to
take her down to the Pasha's quarters, when the girl Helga came out of
the measuring room. It was, I realised, the first time I'd seen her
for a couple of weeks, and it was fascinating to see how her treatment
had been coming along in this short time.

The pregnant Swedish woman was gaping at her. It was her first day in
the harem, and probably her first chance to see one of our *really*
big-breasted girls; the speciality of the house, as it were. She shook
her head in disbelief. The physician had been surprised by Helga's
slow development at first, and he'd boosted her intake of breast food.

Wow! That worked, all right! She wasn't a new Kitty, nobody could be,
but Helga was certainly bigger than our average girls! Her breasts
descended to well below the level of the top of her pants, and they
were so wide, you could see both of them from behind her, even beyond
her arms. That's big, even by our high standards.

Fanni had probably thought *she* was big, until now! She couldn't take
her eyes off Helga, looking over her shoulder at her as I led her out
and up the corridor. I had to feel in my pockets for something to give
Ziggi, and fortunately found a piece of chewy candy of some sort. I
imagine it had been in my pocket for some time, but she nodded and
made muffled appreciative noises when I pushed it into her mouth. She
was looking at the Swedish woman, wondering why she had not brought
her anything to eat, but I suppose the woman didn't know yet what was
expected of her.

She was staring at Ziggi as we went up the corridor. She seemed to
spend a lot of time staring at things, this woman.


**********

It was a typical Wednesday morning in police headquarters. Mansoor
slumped at his desk and idly tapped a few keys, staring blankly at the
screen. Another week gone by and still Emily hadn't told him her good
news. What was the matter with the woman? Did Western women not share
such news with their husbands? Husbands! He laughed bitterly and the
constable in the desk opposite peered at him, shook his head, and
returned to his form-filling.

I'll speak to her tonight, Mansoor decided. I'll say to her, Emily,
when will you be having this baby? She will not be able to deny it.
She will ... shit! An insistent beep came from his terminal. 'You have
new mail' said the message on the screen. Five seconds later, his jaw
dropped and he grabbed a pencil, Emily's baby forgotten.


**********

"I sent him a message, Caro!"

"Well, what did he say?"

The younger sister flung her school bag on the table and struggled out
of her coat. It wasn't easy to find a coat to fit her these days, with
her shape. The arms were always too long, and it was still too tight
around the middle, where her breasts were. "He didn't say anything,
not yet!"

"I thought it was supposed to be instant, this e-mail."

"Well, it is, near enough. But he has to be at his computer before he
can receive it. Anyway, it didn't bounce. It was delivered. So we know
the address is correct. We just have to wait until he reads it and
sends a reply. Let's face it, until yesterday, we couldn't even think
of a way of getting in touch with him."

Caro supposed so. The let-down after hearing Emily's voice on the
phone was so great. But her thoughts were interrupted by a minor
earthquake hitting the house. Toots was home from school.


**********

Mansoor had two messages. The first was a rambling story from the
weights and measures clerk. How could the man be so naive? Or the
woman? He had not the first idea who this clerk was. Whoever it was
had certainly poured his heart out this time.

He scrolled through the message, screenful after screenful. Business
management course ... public relations exercise ... Pasha still in the
dark ages, communicationswise ... media attention ... leading edge of
scientific research and bio-instrumentation. What was this bit? Detail
of a specific case? Mansoor pulled his chair closer to the screen.

'... Pregnant Swedish woman!, it read, 'routine blood-testing before
placing the woman in service revealed striking similarities with
results obtained from young Swedish subject seven months earlier when
system had been newly installed. This exciting breakthrough suggests
potential relationship mother/daughter between subjects.'

Why did he have to write as if it was a scientific report? He tried
again. There was no doubt at all. This weights and measures clerk was
spilling the entire story of the goings-on in his area at the harem,
to a complete stranger!

It was unbelievable, but people did the most amazing things when they
had been on business management courses.

'I informed the physician, but he is approaching retirement, and was
not interested. The Pasha, too, is too elderly to bother with such
things. Hence my initiative. If I can contact the world's media, and
through them, the great research establishments of medical science,
pan-globally, the name of this humble harem will be blazoned in
letters of burning gold in its rightful place at the forefront of
medical exploration.' Bloody Hell. A maniac.

He was about to compose a careful reply, then he remembered the other
message. This one made no sense either. It was just a single line:

'Mansoor: Very quick message, teacher gone to the bog. Is it you?
Please say so. Cinders.'

The address included the letters 'uk'. Cinders? "Fucking Hell!" he
yelled, and rushed out. Straight to the car park, into the Range
Rover, and off in a cloud of dust to Zulfiqar's house.


**********

"... and it was signed 'Cinders'. That was Caro's sister's name,
wasn't it?"

"Yes! Short for Lucinda. Toffee-nosed stuck-up name if ever there was.
Well, what did she say?"

"Say? That was it! Something about the teacher gone to the bog. Was it
me, please say so! Some schoolkid fucking around in class, wasting my
time!"

"But what did she say when you answered her?"

"Answered her?"

"Well, I thought it was supposed to be instant, this e-mail. You mean
she hasn't answered?"

"Well, no. I didn't send her a reply yet."

"You ...?" Emily sat down. "Are you a soddin' policeman or what? Get
your asshole back to that fuckin' police station and answer the girl.
Find out what she wants. They must have a reason to be trying to get
in touch!"

"You can't talk to me like that ..." Mansoor spluttered. Emily was
sitting there looking at him. She couldn't talk to him like that. But
she just had! He headed for the door, and heard Emily's words over his
shoulder ...

"Darling! I'm having a baby!"

He turned and looked at her sweet anxious face looking up at him.

"I know", he smiled, and got his asshole back to the police station.


**********

The reply to Cinders was encouraging but guarded. 'Cinders: Yes, it's
me. Hope you OK. What you want? M.'

To the weights and measures clerk, he needed to be equally careful.
The clerk had asked if Mansoor knew the addresses of the news
agencies. Truthfully, Mansoor had been able to reply that he didn't,
but would be able to find out. He also asked for more details of the
strange case of the Swedish woman and her possible daughter. It would
keep the correspondence going for a few more days without the crazy
clerk spilling the story to the media.

He punched a key to send his queued mail, then sat back from the
keyboard. Suddenly he whooped aloud, "She's having a baby!" and leapt
up from his desk, overturning his chair. The constable opposite
watched as the Range Rover screeched out of the car park.

What was it, he thought, that caused perfectly sane, rational men to
go completely to pieces when they got involved with a woman?


**********

"Is that all he said?" Caro ran a hand through her hair. "Where is
it?"

"Where's what?"

"The message."

"It was on the screen. I saw it. There's nothing printed."

"And that's all he said? 'Hope you're OK, what do you want?'"

"Well, it's something", said Cinders defensively. "It's better than
nothing!"

"Not much!"

"Well, *you* do better, Mizz Clever-Clogs!"

"I will! I'm going to write a proper letter to him, and you're going
to send it."

Cinders groaned. How could she get it into her sister's head that
there wasn't time in the IT lab to type a great long letter and send
it. Caro had stormed out. Cinders followed. "Caro", she shouted. "Sis,
I've got an idea how we can do this ..."


**********

The weights and measures clerk tapped in the last of Helga's
measurements. Bust, fullest point, standing: 200. He tapped a few more
keys and the message appeared on his screen again. It had been a
brainwave calling on this outsider for help. He didn't know much about
him, Mansoor hadn't given any detail apart from saying he worked in
irrigation. Yet he seemed to know plenty about the media. The clerk
supposed he would, being part of the outside world.

He read the message again. Excellent! He would only need to wait a few
more days before the harem would become the focus of the world's
media. He sould be interviewed, of course. He sat back and closed his
eyes, imagining the cameras and the lights, the interview, here at his
terminal ...

Shit! More business. The Swedish bird again. Wonder if she knows
she'll be world-famous by next week!





Chapter 41:- Plans

Fatima seemed to be avoiding contact with Candi. She had delegated the
girl's enemas entirely to Sabah and Nejla, to their amazement. They
had expected to have to share the joy and delight of administering to
the pregnant teenager twice a day, yet they were being allowed free
rein to play with the girl to their hearts' content. They seized the
opportunity.

Candi, once she discovered that Fatima was not involved, lay back and
thought of England, and quite enjoyed the experience. It was certainly
extremely arousing. She wondered from time to time why Fatima was
avoiding her. She had wanted to get on with her threats until the
chief matron would be forced to plead with her. She lay there as
Nejla's fingers probed her gently, imagining the conversation as it
could have gone.

'What can I do for you, Candi, darling?'

'Oh, that's easy, Fatima. All you have to do is get me out of here and
send me home!'

'Is that all? I am sure it can easily be arranged. I have considerable
influence here. Let me speak to the Pasha!'

'Well, perhaps you could get my bestest friend Mrs Schwalbenschwanz
out as well. And her family? Thank you.'

'It should be no problem.'

Yet Fatima hadn't come near her since she'd first mentioned it to her
in the medical centre. How was she supposed to get out of here if
Fatima avoided her all the time?


**********

For her part, Fatima was shitting herself almost as often as Candi.
(Not as often as Ziggi, but that was a different matter entirely.) If
Candi knew what Fatima's punishment would be for sleeping with one of
the girls, she was going to be able to demand almost anything. Rubies?
Diamonds? What could the girl ask for next? There was no limit.

It was good enough reason to avoid Candi for a while until she had
forgotten about it. Fatima thought of the dire consequences of
discovery. How could she have been so foolish as to take the girl into
her bed! If it leaked out, she would be hauled up before the Pasha. If
she had been an ordinary matron, it would have been bad enough. The
Pasha would have ordered her to be completely circumcised.

The trouble was, now she was already the chief matron, she had already
*been* completely circumcised! What was left for them to do to her?
The infibulatrice would be called, and there, before the Pasha, she
would be sewn up, leaving only enough of a hole to piss through! Just
because she fancied a fat Ingleesi pregnant teenager!

An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. And a cunt for a cunt!

And yet, she couldn't simply avoid seeing Candi for evermore. She
dreaded seeing her, yet she couldn't exist without her. She thought of
her Candi, even now undergoing heavy treatment at the hands of that
sadistic Sabah and that horny Nejla. A new, slimline Candi would be
the result. Fatima's lust was almost physically painful...


**********

Unfortunately for Fatima, there was no time to brood over her personal
problems. The increasing numbers of new inmates, with all their
special treatment, meant that there was a staff shortage. Some of the
matrons were working fourteen or more hours a day. They never
complained - perhaps they knew it was fruitless - but tired matrons
make mistakes, and mistakes could prove embarrassing to the chief
matron.

She clapped her hands and a small black eunuch appeared, bowing.
"Bring me Eva, the new German grandmother. You know the one?" The boy
nodded and fled.

Three minutes later, the grandmother entered Fatima's suite, knocking
on the already open door.

"You sent for me, reverend matron", she said, with deep respect. What
could the chief matron want her for, she wondered, trying desperately
to think what she could have done wrong.

"Ah, Eva, my dear. It is good to see you looking so well. Sit down.
Now, you have been here how long is it? Nearly six weeks? Have you
been asked to visit the Pasha's bedroom?"

"Well, yes, reverend matron, but only the once", answered the German
woman.

"And? How did it go?"

"The Pasha tried me from all directions, but I don't think he was very
satisfied with the overall tightness, because he never asked me back.
Pity, I enjoyed his attention very much. His equipment is nice and
thick. He must make some of these young girls' eyes water! With
respect, ma'am!"

"Well, yes, I imagine he does", Fatima said. "Look, I think the harem
can make good use of a woman of your experience. I want to offer you
the chance to become a matron."

"Who? Me?" Eva was flustered, and didn't know what to think. "Thank
you, matron Fatima, I would love that, but what would I have to do?"

"What were you before you came here?"

"I am a hairdresser and beauty consultant by trade. I had my own
little salon in Germany and being located not too far from the local
high school, I used to have many young girls trying hair styles and
make up for the first time."

"Excellent", said Fatima, rubbing her hands together, "I need somebody
in the harem baths. Quite urgently, in fact. You can start training
today and in a couple of days you will be a capable bath matron."

"But what I will have to do?" asked the German woman, licking her lips
in anticipation.

"Your duties will include bathing and shaving of all the new girls who
arrive at the harem. They are all virgins and you will be the first
harem person to touch them. Needless to say, you will have to be very
careful. If any of them loses her virginity, *you* will be severely
punished."

"But ... how could I ...?"

"I think I make myself clear, Eva. I know you like to play with
pre-pubescent girls. I have watched you. Well, you can touch them,
frig them and play with them, but not damage them. I think perhaps I
should prune you before you join the ranks of the matrons."

The German woman didn't like the sound of that. "Prune me? What does
that mean?"

Fatima smiled. "All harem matrons, including me, are pruned. They are
simply circumcised. You know, like little boys? All their fleshy
parts, including the clitoris, are removed and their sexual urges are
curbed once and for all. It is usually a simple and quick operation,
although in your case, it might take a little longer. If I remember,
your ornaments are quite abundant. But I am myself an experienced
circumcistrice and I do most of the cutting in this harem. I also do
the boys. Boys, girls, they all come the same to me!"

Eva went pale. "I am not sure if I want this job after all!"

Fatima stood up. "That, I am afraid, is not your decision. *I* will
think about it and let you know before the evening. If I decide, I
will cut you myself, tonight. Now, let me take you to the hamman. Oh,
by the way, do you know how to administer a proper enema?"

"Yes, of course, reverend matron. I used to be a nurse, years ago. I
did it then, quite a lot. You could say I am fully experienced."

That's good. Cleaning out each new girl after her arrival will be a
part of your duties."

The two women made their way to the harem bath. There, in the pool
room, they found a half a dozen nude children playing in a large,
shallow pool. Fatima noticed an instant spark in the grandmother's
eyes. She knew that this new matron would take good care of the
perfumed nubile flesh which paraded before them.

"I have decided already", Fatima said. "Report to the sick bay
tonight. I will personally circumcise you. I will remove all your
meaty labia, cut you clean there, but I will leave your fat clitoris
intact. You can have something to play with. Just remember, if you
misbehave, your tickler will meet the same fate as your ornaments. Is
that clear, woman?"

"Yes, ma'am, it will not happen. I can promise you."

"I hope so. I hope so. Now you will meet the chief bath matron, who
will start you off on your training. Also, over there is the head
barber matron. I want you to learn the trade of shaving the pudenda.
You will help her with the barber's job. As a hairdresser, you should
be familiar with the general idea, if not the precise location."


**********

Cinders ejected the floppy disk containing Carolyn's letter and
dropped it into her bag with shaking fingers. This whole business was
getting too risky by half. The teacher had spotted her logging in at
the beginning of the lesson, and had wandered over to see what she was
doing. She had come up with some cock-and-bull story about getting
some more information from the Norwegian school about over-fishing in
the cod banks, and Mr Andrews had seemed satisfied. He'd probably come
over to look at her tits, she thought, blushing as she glanced
sideways at the teacher's tightly-trousered bottom.

Why do I have to feel so *horny* at a time like this, she seethed. I'm
supposed to be feeling *nervous*, for Chrissakes. I've just sent a
message to a foreign police headquarters. A message with a great long
attachment. The thought of a great long attachment made her think of
Fizzy Andrews again, and here he was, strolling over.

"All right, Lucinda?" he said, grinning down at her. God, the way he
said 'Lucindaar' like that. It made her all *moist*. She tried to sit
closer to the desk so her nipples wouldn't show so much, but with her
vast tits resting in her lap, there wasn't room to get them under the
desk. The teacher noticed her efforts and leaned forward to point to
something on her monitor screen. Eventually he stood up. He didn't
seem entirely comfortable. "Okay now? You're coming along nicely!"

He was nearer the mark than he knew! "Fine, sir. Thank you, sir!" She
had to close her eyes tight to avoid having to sneak a look at the
front of his trousers.

Now all she had to do was wait for Mansoor's reply.


**********

"I have to get back to headquarters. I only dashed out for a minute.
There's work to do, and they'll be missing me."

"Doesn't it matter to you that *I'll* be missing you, too? I need lots
of extra looking after now, you know."

"I know! But not in the middle of the afternoon. It won't do either of
us any good if I get fired, or posted to guard the oil pipeline five
hundred kilometres from the nearest running water."

Emily watched as he buckled his belt, tucked his snub-nosed automatic
into the top of his pants at the small of his back, and shrugged into
his jacket.

"Go on with you, get back to work, you horny bastard. You know you
couldn't keep away. It was your idea to seduce me in the middle of the
afternoon."

"My idea? You practically raped me ...! Anyway, that decides it. If we
do have a big rescue job at the harem, you're definitely not coming on
it! I've asked the weights and measures clerk for full details of the
Swedish woman; if it is Erica's mother, we're going to have to lift
her out as well as Candi. We need to know when *her* baby's due, we
can't risk her being eight and a half months gone when we burst in
there with our Kalashnikovs blazing."

"Golly, no! Last thing you want. Here, gissa kiss 'fore you go!"
Mansoor bent over the bed. "No, that's enough, don't start anything
you can't finish!" He stood up, adjusting his crotch with some
difficulty, and turned for the door. "Mansoor?" she said softly. He
turned at the doorway and raised an eyebrow.

"Be careful!"


**********

The weights and measures clerk carefully typed Fanni's details into
the message. 'Projected date of birth ... description of subject ...
specification of potential daughter (including brief summary and
description of enhancement treatment schedule), dates of acquisition.'

The weights and measures clerk was nothing if not thorough. That ought
to bring us some welcome publicity, he thought. The world's scientists
would be beating a path to our door. He sent the message and sat back,
imagining the electrons winging their way down the phone lines to
Mansoor's desk at the irrigation office.

And talking of irrigation, he thought, here's that Candi girl in for
her enema. Looking slimmer already.


**********

There were two more messages waiting for Mansoor when he sat down at
his desk, feeling the damp patch where his cock had seeped into his
underpants. He forgot his discomfort at once, and sat up straight.
There was a huge letter from the English girls, signed by the older
sister who had been here at Zulfiqar's, Caro. She rambled on and on,
but he could almost hear Caro's voice as he read the words. They had
settled down at home and school, but were missing Candi. Piers was
missing Candi. Candi's mother was missing Candi. Toots wasn't missing
Candi but she sent all her love and kisses. She hoped the message
would arrive safely. He quickly printed out the text of the letter and
slipped it into an inside pocket. Emily would want to read this.

The other message, from the harem, gave all manner of information
about the Swedish mother and her possible daughter. It was all there,
blood group, hair colour, description in the most chillingly intimate
detail. Mansoor hesitated a moment, then began to type a fax. It was
addressed to the Swedish Police: Bureau of Missing Persons.


**********

Emily read the letter, tears pouring down her cheeks. "She says she'll
write again if you tell it's all right to. You will, won't you?"

"I shouldn't, you know that. But I will do it, as it's for you. I told
the Swedish police about the other message, from the harem. That
clerk, he must have gone crazy, telling us all that stuff. Either
that, or he's got it in for the management there. They'll go wild when
they find out."

"Are they going to find out?"

"Probably, they're bound to eventually. It's just a matter of time."

"What will the Swedish police do when they get your message?"

"They'll file it, if they're anything like our lot. It could be the
last we'll ever hear of it. What's one missing woman mean to them?"

"Mansoor. What if they're not?"

"Not what?"

"Not like our lot, here. What if they tell the papers, leak the story
to the television news? We could have every reporter and cameraman in
Sweden over here by tomorrow."

"They can come if they like, but they'll never get into the country.
They won't get an entry visa."

"Well, if they won't let them in, what's the plan to get Candi out?
The same trick won't work again, embarrassing the powers-that-be so
they let the girls go rather than lose face in the West. They'd kill
Candi before they let that happen again."

"No airport this time. She'll go out by ship. When the time comes,
we'll have a ship down at Nahwaz. She can slip aboard that and be away
within an hour of arriving at the dock. No fuss, no crowds."

"I hope so", Emily said, shaking her head.





Chapter 42:- Big Story!

Fanni and Gretchen paused for breath. The Pasha, his football shorts
round his ankles and his polyester Liverpool shirt rucked up under his
armpits, cut an undignified figure sprawled on the bed. The two
pregnant European women had become carried away by the moment, and as
soon as the Pasha had fallen asleep, they had adopted a side-by-side
sixty-nine position, suitably modified to overcome the handicap of
their twin bulging bellies.

They found they were only able to go down on each other successfully
if they took turns - twenty seconds each - and in a remarkable
demonstration of Swedo-German collaboration, they brought each other
to what is usually known in erotic literature as a panting climax, by
the use of tongues and fingers. They rolled into a sitting position
and eyed the Pasha fearfully. They had made quite a lot of bilingual
noise.

"Is he still asleep?"

"I think so!"

"He must be knackered, as Candi calls it", whispered Gretchen. The two
women spoke in English. It was the only language they shared with any
fluency. They referred to it as the language of love, which would have
incensed any Frenchmen present. An extremely unlikely event, they
thought, and in itself something for which to be profoundly grateful.

The football match had ended in a goal-less draw, which might have
accounted for the Pasha's loss of concentration some way through the
second half. On three or four of the array of screens, a team manager
was being interviewed. Faintly, the words came to them, "Yeah, Brian,
we're gonna be taking each game one at a time from here on in ..."

On one of the other screens, a news broadcast was in progress.
Suddenly, Fanni sat bolt upright and started fumbling for the remote
control. "That one, that one there", she pointed at the screens,
"second from left, no, RIGHT, on the top row ..." She delicately
extracted the device from the Pasha's crotch, pressed a button, and a
small control panel slid silently and discreetly from a recess in the
bedside table.

"Screen Number Nine!" shouted Gretchen in a whisper, pressing the
appropriate number on a keypad, then twisting a knob violently
clockwise. One of a row of five slumbering, headphone-wearing eunuchs
sat up suddenly, clutching his tortured ears, grasped a remote control
unit and pressed two buttons. The volume came up. A reporter was
standing outside some sort of building. Fanni hunched forward, hanging
on to his every word. It meant nothing to Gretchen - it was Swedish
with Arabic sub-titles - but she knew enough to shut up while Fanni
watched.

The shot of the reporter gave way to archive film of an airport late
at night, with blanket-huddled figures being hustled past the whirring
cameras and blazing sun-guns. Then there was a shot of a number of
girls coming down the steps of a building, waving to the camera in the
winter sunshine.

Fanni gasped, her fingers in her mouth, then pointed wordlessly at the
screen. The girls walked past the reporter, who carried on talking,
then the picture cut back to the newsreader. Tears were streaming down
Fanni's face as she clutched Gretchen's arm.

"What's the *matter*?"

"Didn't you SEE?" She flung out an arm and pointed at the screen
again, now showing a guerilla firing a rocket launcher. "It was
Erica!"

"Who?"

"Erica! My little girl. My daughter. And Kitty. And little Annafrid.
They're all right. When I was kidnapped, I didn't know what happened
to them, but there they are on the news. They were kidnapped, too, it
said. Now they are looking for *me*, but don't know where to look!"
She buried her head in Gretchen's shoulder.

"Quick!" The German woman helped her off the bed. "Let's get out of
here. We'll get the boys to tell the Pasha you are ill. I have
something to tell you. Quickly. Come on!" And she grabbed Fanni by the
arm and, with a last glance at the snoring Pasha, they fled from the
bedroom.


**********

They sat on one of the beds in their sleeping quarters. "Candi will be
back soon", said Gretchen. "She was telling me about the escape, about
the time she got pregnant. Her friends were rescued from here, they
all got away in a van, but Candi was so fat she couldn't get in, so
she got out and let the rest of them go."

Fanni stared at her, knowing what was coming.

"Three of the girls were Swedish, she said. Erica was one, and Kitty,
she had a huge bust, apparently, down to her knees ..." Fanni yelped
in horror and bit her fingers, "and there was another Swedish girl, I
thought she called her Frida, who was in the van. She came with
Carolyn, Candi's English friend."

"And they all got away?"

"She thought so."

"And they'd been here?"

"Yes."

"Had they been tortured? Locked in a box, like Ziggi, or pumped up to
enormous size, like your Helga? You said Kitty's breasts were down to
her knees! She's big, very big for her age, but not as big as that!
NOBODY is!"

"Candi will tell you everything she knows about Kitty, and Erica, too.
In fact, she'll do it now, here come her matrons!" Sabah led Candi in,
wrapped in enormous towels and looking exhausted. Nejla followed,
looking around her hungrily. Her eyes settled on the two pregnant
women for a moment and she licked her lips, apparently at the prospect
of giving the two of them a good clean-out as well.

But they left, unfulfilled, and Candi sagged into a heap on her bed
with a groan.

"Candi. Candi, don't go to sleep for a minute, darlink!"

The girl opened one eyelid and peered at them sleepily. "Whaddya want?
I'm shagged out!"

"Erica's been on TV! In the Pasha's bedroom."

"Erica?" Candi sat up, wincing.

"And Kitty. It was news film from Sweden. Fanni is Erica's mother"

Candi stared, then pointed feebly at Fanni. "You ...?"

The woman nodded. "What did they do to her?" she asked in a trembling
voice.

Candi tried to remember. "Oh, they just grew her tits. Not as big as
Kitty. Not as big as Cinders. That's my friend's sister. Big, though.
Even bigger than yours. And they made her big down here. Her pussy and
her clit. They had her on this pump thing and they injected her with
some stuff, and her bits got all enormous. Shit, they hung down nearly
to her knees, her pussy lips!" Fanni was chewing at both hands,
shaking her head from side to side.

Candi went on. "But she's all right? And Kitty? Are *they* all right?
And what about my friends. What about *Piers*?" She gripped Fanni's
arm and shook it like a dog with a stick.

"We didn't see your friends. But Erica and Frida, and Kitty; they
looked okay", said Gretchen. "There was a shot of them coming out of a
building and waving at the camera. Kitty was walking, slowly, and she
looked very big. I thought she was pregnant, but it could have been
huge boobies after all. And Erica looked fine." She held Fanni's hand
comfortingly. "And Candi, if *they* all got home, I bet your friends
did too."

"I hope so. Oh, it's great news. I'm going to find Fatima and make her
let me out ..." ...and she started to get to her feet. The other two
dragged her back.

"Wait, Candi", Gretchen insisted. "Not yet! Let's take our time and
plan what we're going to do. They're alive, they're well, and they're
going to be looking for us. It's a big news story! Every newspaper in
the world is going to want to be the first to find us. One thing's for
sure. They will!"


**********

The Lashmore kids didn't see the news that night. Piers was in his
room. Cinders was at her friend's house, Caro was at the swimming
pool. They arrived home within two minutes of each other to find Toots
almost fizzing with excitement.

"Frida's been on telly!" she yelled at once.

"Whaaaat?" cried Caro.

"An' Erica, and Kitty ... all on de news!"

"... what have they done ...?"

"... what time was it ...?"

"... are they all right ...?"

"Dey was comin' out of a building. Looked like a big buildin' and dey
was wavin' at the camera. All happy. Erica in front, then Kitty and
Frida. Some woman wid 'em!"

"They're safe", Caro whispered. "What time was it on telly?"

"Nine o' clock news ..." but Caro was already surfing through the
channels looking for a news broadcast. She found a shot of Big Ben and
a newscaster. And the whole story came out. 

Piers came out of his room to see what all the noise was about. They
told him.

"Any news of Candi yet?" he asked, eagerly. There wasn't, but there
was hope, at least.

Later, Dawn found them all, still constantly replaying a tape of the
news in Caro's bedroom. She gaped as Caro stammered out the story.
Finally she hugged all four of them. She couldn't encircle Cinders and
Toots very well, but it's the thought that counts.

"In the morning, I'll ring the BBC. We'll get in touch with the girls,
no problem. Come on then, get to bed. You won't sleep, but at least
you can try!" And she kissed Caro again before shooing Cinders and
Toots before her into their bedroom. To Piers, she said, "and we'll
find Candi, too. We will!"

Piers reddened. "How did you know about me and Candi?" he said.

"What's to know?" Dawn laughed. "I'm your mother!"


**********

Fatima could avoid Candi, but she couldn't avoid the entire harem.
Everywhere she went the next morning, girls and matrons would approach
her, with due deference to her rank, and tell her that, with every
respect, Candi wished to see her and was looking for her everywhere.
Something *very* important that was too urgent to wait. The message
was imparted with knowing looks and smirks. Every girl in the place
seemed to know that Candi and Fatima had something going!

The little slut, she thought, she's spreading rumours. The Pasha will
find out in no time. It had to be faced. She found Candi in the
medical centre and dismissed her two matrons.

"Come back in half an hour", she told Sabah and Nejla. "I need to talk
to this young woman!" The two matrons left, giggling, and Fatima felt
the blood rise to her cheeks as she confronted Candi. "Well", she
demanded, "you have been asking to see me. Here I am. What is it you
want from me this time? More jewels? A ruby to stick up your asshole?
Oh, yes, I know. You want to get off the enema regime? Is that what
you want? You know it is doctor's orders. You have to go on with it."

"Ooooh, no! It's lovely. I really like it. No, what I want ...", she
looked about her and lowered her voice. "I need to get out of here. I
want to go home!"

"Home? But that's crazy. It's impossible. Nobody goes home. *This* is
your home for life."

"My life, Fatima, or yours?"

"Both of us. All of us. I can't send you home."

"There's no such word as 'can't'", Candi said, sounding like a
schoolgirl. "I think it might be best if you arranged things so I can
get out of here. Me and my bestest friends, of course", she added.

Fatima's head spun. It was impossible. Yet it might just be a
solution. If Candi was out of here, she would be out of the way. It
might be blackmail, but she couldn't come back with further demands if
she was off the premises. Fatima opened her mouth, but no words came
out.

She turned on her heel and hurried off.

"See you later, Fatso", she heard as she went through the doorway.


**********

"How did it go?" Gretchen asked.

"Dunno. I told her what I wanted and she sort of ran off."

"She'll be back, darlink, don't worry!"

"What do we do when she does come back?" Fanni wanted to know.

"She has got to get in touch with that cop. Mansoor, was it?"

Candi nodded. "Mansoor. At police headquarters. He drives the chief of
police around. How's she going to get in touch with him? We need to be
able to point her in the right direction."

"You said there used to be an inside man here, worked in the laundry?"

"Used to be, but he's not here any more."

"How did he get in touch with Mansoor, just pick up the phone?"

"No, you can't get a phone call out of here. The phones only work
inside the harem. They reckon there's only one phone connected to
outside, and that's the Pasha's clerk. She'll just have to get out and
talk to him. Like at one of those auction sales."

"Candi. There's one thing. If she gets you out, and you've got to
escape, you know, run for it?"

"You reckon I can't run", said Candi belligerently.

"No! It's not that. But if it's in a month or two? What about baby?"

"It will just have to be sooner then. Within a couple of weeks!"





Chapter 43:- Now Or Never

"I thought of calling in at school and bringing you all home, but it
was only another hour to wait. I spoke to the man at the BBC. He
remembered us. He's coming round in the morning. But here's the best
bit! He's spoken to Sweden. Erica is living with Frida's mother, a Mrs
Carlsson. Mrs Carlsson phoned an hour ago. She's flying over tonight,
with Erica and Frida. They'll be at Heathrow at half past eight. Daddy
is collecting them from the airport. I'll call the school first thing
in the morning. You won't need to go in tomorrow!"

Toots leapt off the armchair and flung herself into Dawn's arms.
Splosh, it went. Dawn staggered back. Toots made quite an impression
when she flung herself against you. "Anyone would think you didn't
like school, Toots", she said. "I'm sorry about the television people
being here again, but at least, this time, it shouldn't be such a
strain. And we'll be getting Candi back this time."


**********

They waited up for their guests to arrive. There were introductions
all round, and too much excitement to sleep, but finally the kids made
their way upstairs to bed down wherever they could. Frida joined
Cinders and Toots, Erica went in with Caro. Piers got no-one, although
he seemed impressed by the sight of Frida, who looked at him shyly,
then lowered her eyes.

Erica seemed reluctant to undress at first. "I still feel nervous
about what they did to me", she told Caro, who went and sat next to
her and held her hand. "You know, down here. But Mrs Carlsson took me
to the doctor, and he sent us to another doctor. It was horrible. So
embarrassing!"

"What happened?" Caro asked, horrified and eager.

"He had this nurse woman, they were both Middle Eastern. Oh, it was
like being back in the harem, the way they talk about these nasty
things so casually, you know? He, the doctor, was telling Mrs Carlsson
he wanted to cut everything off, the whole lot. He measured
everything. Everything! And when he'd measured all my pussy and the
lips, you know? How they were all dangling down, with those gold rings
and all?"

Caro nodded.

"Well this nurse had been done, a long time ago, and we were just
sitting talking about it, and Dr Khalid, that's his name, he told the
nurse to show us her ... you know! And you know what she did?"

"No! What did she do?"

"She was standing next to the doctor's desk. And she just pulled her
dress up. She wasn't wearing anything underneath at all. Dirty cow!"

"Yuck!" said Caro. "Go on!"

"And she just put one foot up on the desk. Just like that. I was about
half a metre away from her. I could have reached out and touched her
thing. It was just like a crack, nothing else there at all. And he
said thank you to her, and she put her foot back down, and let her
dress down again, as if nothing had happened!"

"Oh, Erica, that's dreadful!"

"Yes. And then he said that's what ought to be done to me!
Clean-shaven, he called it. Well, we went home, and Mrs Carlsson asked
what *I* thought about the idea. Well, I told her! And the week after,
we went back to Khalid, and he asked what we'd decided, and Mrs
Carlsson said, 'just cut it back so it doesn't show', and he got all
angry, would you believe, and more or less said it was wrong to have
all these sex toys. That's what he called them, toys!"

"He didn't!" said Caro, indignantly.

"He did. But Mrs Carlsson told him this was Sweden, and it was nearly
2000 AD, and who did he think he was. I thought she was going to hit
him with her handbag."

"Oooooh! Don't stop!"

"He did the operation. He cut everything down to just a couple of
centimetres. He gave me all the gold rings to keep, including the big
one ... have you still got yours?"

"This one?" Caro lifted her nightress and showed her.

"Oh, God, yes! Well, mine was about this big." She showed Caro with
her fingers. "He cut that out. I've got it at home. Everything's tidy
now." Suddenly, she lifted the hem of the extra large T-shirt she was
wearing for bed. "Here, look!"

Caro looked. Erica could wear a bikini now, if she felt confident
enough, and if she was careful to get one with the right size pants.
She had to admit to herself, Dr Khalid had done a neat job. The sight
of it was making Caro get quite turned on. She put her arms round
Erica and hugged her tight. The Swedish girl was surprised, but hugged
her back.

"It's as well we're both wearing nighties", Caro giggled, "these
nipple rings could make a nasty mess if they got tangled up with each
other!"

"We'd have to send for Dr Khalid to cut us apart."

"Anyway, we made it", Caro sighed. "All we have to do now is to get
Candi out. And your mother, of course."

"Yeah. That's all!"


**********

"Pssst! Helga! It's me." Grandmother looked strange and unfamiliar to
Helga in the harem matron's clothing. It suited her; it could have
been designed for a hugely-endowed middle-aged woman with broad hips,
powerful thighs and, of course, vast breasts. As indeed it was.

"I've just heard some news. About Ziggi!"

"What about her. They going to let her out of the box?"

"Oh, you guessed!" Grandmother adopted a pouting expression, like an
overgrown schoolgirl.

"When is it to be?" Helga asked, nudging her in the ribs.

"You can't push *me* like that, I'm a matron, remember. It's four
day's time. I heard them arranging it. There are going to be dancers,
a band, there'll be stacks of food, all the food you can eat. No wine,
of course, you know what this lot are like."

"And what about Ziggi?"

"She's going to be the highlight of the evening. Everything builds up
to her being let out of the box. They're going to bring the box, with
her in it, into the main area, round by the fountains and things.
They'll tell her they've brought her round there so she can watch, and
she won't feel out of it! But after all the dancing and fun and games,
they're going to have a grand opening ceremony and let her out!"

"God. I hope she can walk after all that time in there!"

"She'll be okay. They say she can move her legs a bit in there, and
with all the standing she's been doing, she'll be able to get around.
She'll feel stiff, naturally, but she'll be all right. I can't wait to
see what she looks like!"

"They were right to make a matron out of you, you're as kinky as they
are!"

"I suppose so", Grandmother sighed. "And all this bathing and feeling
up the girls makes me realise what I've been missing all these years.
I've felt more enormous young tits these last few days than I ever
knew existed! Oooops! Here comes the Dragon. I'm off! Tell your mother
about Ziggi, won't you!"


**********

Helga found her mother with the other two pregnant women. They were
just going down toward the maternity ward. "We've been invited to have
a look round", said Gretchen. "Drop in any time, they told us. So we
are."

"Can I come? Helga asked, eagerly.

"Don't see why not." In English, Gretchen explained to Candi and
Fanni. "Helga's coming along to have a look. She'll end up in there
soon enough, looking the way she does!"

Helga pushed her mother playfully. "We're not all like you, you know."

"Well, you come with us, anyway. It might be enough of a frightening
experience to make you more careful about what you allow between your
big wet thighs."

Helga walked along beside the others, her monstrous breasts bouncing
at every stride. "I was going to try and find the twins. Ziggi's going
to be let out in four days' time. Big celebration night. Music and
dancing and food. No booze, of course. Then Ziggi gets let out as the
grand finale!"

"Ziggi!" shouted Candi. "Oh, that's great. She'll be glad to get out
of there. I bet she'll have wasted away. The poor kid will be
starving!"

"Maybe we should all try and slip something extra to her during her
last four days", suggested Fanni, amid noises of general agreement.
They arrived at the door of the maternity ward.

"Well, go on, then", whispered Candi.

"It's all right, no need to rush in", hissed Fanni.

"Are we all ready, then? said Gretchen, softly.

"What are we all whispering for", Helga whispered, pushing open the
door.

They weren't ready for the scene of buzzing activity that met them.
The ward was large and square, rather than the usual long room with
beds down both sides. There were beds along one wall, about a dozen,
although there would be plenty of room for more if there was an
epidemic of babies for any reason. The women looked around,
fascinated.

The rest of the room was the scene of separate activities, each taking
place under ceiling-mounted spotlights, like little tableaux. Groups
of matrons hovered about, performing a variety of strange tasks.

In the centre of the room, a woman was suspended in an elaborate
arrangement of slings and ropes, which held her face downward, arms
and legs extended like a great starfish. As they watched, horrified, a
bored-looking eunuch pulled on a rope, guiding it through his fingers,
and lowered the woman over a tank of water. Her mound, even more
extended in this position, touched the surface and the eunuch stopped
lowering while three small boys fussed around, filling the tank to the
brim with water.

The women recognised the technique as a variation on the
breast-weighing machine. In this case, though, the woman's breasts
were allowed to hang outside the measuring tank. They swung freely,
and another boy, perched on a step-ladder, steadied them with a
broom-handle to stop them getting in the way.

Satisfied at last, the matron in charge of the operation signalled to
the eunuch, and the woman's body descended until her belly was fully
beneath the surface. Gallons of water overflowed and sluiced down a
gully to a drain in the floor. Then the eunuch hauled her quickly up
again, his black skin rippling with the effort, and the woman glided
on a gantry across the room, before being lowered on to an empty bed,
where the boys released her slings and helped her over on to her back.

Gretchen looked at Candi with an expression of amazement and disgust.
But Candi's eyes were fixed on another operation taking place in the
corner. A matron wearing headphones was bending over a hugely pregnant
woman, applying something looking like a sink plunger to her belly.
The big black rubber sucker had a curly cable coming from it, leading
to a box hanging round the neck of a eunuch, who also wore headphones.
He adjusted various controls as he listened.

At a signal from the matron, he threw a switch, and all eyes in the
ward turned to a loudspeaker system, from which came an assortment of
amplified gurgling noises, and the sound of the heartbeat of the
foetus. The performance went on for half a minute or more, while a
second eunuch made entries on a portable computer; then the belly
sound effects were replaced by soft Middle Eastern music. Somehow, the
warbling, wailing music seemed a fitting background for the depraved
scene. It was like a bazaar where all the customers were unaccountably
heavily pregnant.

All around the room, matrons were measuring women, constantly probing
and wielding tape measures, while eunuchs tapped readings into
miniature keyboards.

Helga touched her mother's arm and inclined her head towards the door.
She set off, and the others followed, Fanni and Candi colliding and
becoming momentarily wedged in the double-width doorway as they both
tried to pass through at the same time, while looking over their
shoulders at the macabre scene behind them.

They stood outside in silence, pale and sweating. Finally, Gretchen
spoke. "Candi, darlink! You've got to ask yourself. If you have the
choice, do you get away from here as soon as you get the chance, or do
you have your baby in this Hell?"

Candi shook her head slowly. "We've got to get out of here! We've got
to!"




<end of Part XII>


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