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





Chapter 36:- Jewels In The Crown

Candi climbed off the weighing machine, holding carefully on to the
shiny metal handhold, and felt for the floor with her bare foot. It
was there. Grunting, she pulled herself upright. Yeeow. She'd nearly
busted the thing this time. If she did crush the weighing machine,
perhaps they'd have to send her home. Be nice to have the baby at
home, she'd have a couple of months off school, March and April.

Funny thing, Christmas had come and gone, and she'd never noticed. If
she hadn't kept a note of the date every day, she'd never have known.
No presents. By her reckoning, it was January. She'd even had a
birthday, and nobody knew. No presents for that, either. Fourteen! She
wondered if Mum had bought her a present, in case she came home.

Home. She wondered if Caro and Cinders had made it. And Piers. If they
hadn't made it, would the Pasha have brought them back here, or just
had them murdered. And if they *had* made it? Piers was coming back
for her. He was! He had a special reason to come back for her now. His
baby. Piers's baby! She'd call him Piers, of course. Piers Junior,
he'd have to be, when she got back to ...

"Oh, what's the use ...?" she sat on the edge of the weighing machine,
and a great shuddering sob ran down her massive body. Someone was
speaking to her. Probably that bloody lezzie again, Fatima. Not now,
Fatso, I'm not in the mood. It wasn't her. Not Fatima's voice. She
looked up at the blurred figure, and wiped her tears away.

A pregnant woman. Ordinary. Not black, or Arabic or anything. English?
An English woman?

"Are you English?"

"Nein. No, I'm German. You are English?"

"Mmmm. Hi, I'm Candi. I'm ... I'm having a baby, too."

"Are you? I mean, it doesn't show yet."

"You mean, it doesn't show 'cos I'm so fat."

"No! I'm sorry. I am not good in English. How long is your baby born?"

"I'm six months now. I keep a calendar by my bed. He'll be born in
April."

"Same as me! We have them together."

"Is this your first as well?"

"My first?" The woman laughed. "Oh, Candi! This will be six! My
daughters are here. My son is ... I don't know. Somewhere here, my
daughters are. I said that already. They will be okay, I suppose, but
they make their busen, how you say, their ..."

"Their tits? They made them grow?"

"Their tits. Yes."

"Yeah, they do that to all of us here. The Pasha likes big tits. Huge
ones. So he makes them grow. I think he likes fat girls, too. Look
what they did to me! What's your name? I haven't seen you before."

"No, we are here only one week. I am Gretchen. My daughters are Helga,
and Willi, and Steffi, and Ziggi..."

"Ziggi?" Candi shouted. "Ziggi's your daughter?"

"You meet her?"

"This morning. They made her grow already. They're going to put her in
a box. She said they've made a box to fit her, and she's going to live
in the box. I dunno why. They do some funny things here."

"Funny? Ziggi in a box? This is funny?"

"No, it's not very funny, is it!"


**********

The engineer was making last-minute adjustments to the apparatus. The
physician was standing to one side, looking a little uncertain of the
wisdom of what was going on here. Ziggy sat and watched, her head on
one side; Fatima standing by her stool with an arm round the girl's
shoulders.

The apparatus had been changed slightly since the last time I had seen
it. The pipes and hoses were now clipped neatly in bundles and led
away to a metal cabinet twinkling with red and green lights. As he
worked, the engineer explained the function of the various parts. "Red
hose, warm water, blue one, cool. Both controlled by the master
control unit. Waste goes down the brown pipe, there."

"This bit's new. This warm air trunk carries dry air to blow the
girl's bottom dry after she's been sprayed." He pressed a button on
the cabinet, and a fan started up somewhere inside. The warm air pipe,
as fat indeed as an elephant's trunk, flexed and wobbled as the air
passed through it. "That's okay", he said and switched it off.

"Once she's in the box, she'll be able to operate all the plumbing by
pressing this switch with her nose. The other major change is the
sleeping position. See how the box is mounted on these A-frames that
hold the spindles on each side of the box?"

The A-frames were so large and heavy I hadn't even noticed them. I had
assumed they were only there to support the box while it was being
worked on. I could now see that the box was pivoted about its middle,
and was free to tilt backwards to a horizontal position. The engineer
pushed a switch, and a whisper-quiet motor gently swung the box until
it was completely horizontal.

"That's so she can sleep, it will be more restful than standing up all
the time. A sensor tells the control box when she's dozed off, then it
waits a couple of minutes before tilting to this position. When she
wakes up, it waits five minutes, then automatically stands her up
again."

"Ingenious. How do you think of these things?"

The engineer laughed. He enjoys hearing people tell him what he wants
to hear. He returned the box to the vertical.

"Right, now we're ready for Ziggi. Fatima?"

The chief matron led Ziggi over to the apparatus. It was obvious how
she would fit into it, sideways, so that only one side of her body was
encased in the foam lining. Fatima helped her in, lifting the girl's
right breast so that it fitted into the space provided for it. There
was plenty of room for it to grow - upwards at forty-five degrees,
oddly enough - but plenty of room.

"The breast food injections will go through the holes in the ends of
the breast cavities", said the engineer. We'll use a long needle.
Later, it won't need to be so long, and eventually her boobies will
reach the end of the space, and the nipples will peep out through the
holes. Then we'll know she's nearly ready to be let out! Right, let's
hinge it shut!"

This was a tricky operation, as Ziggi's left breast had to be lifted
into its growth space before the two halves of the box finally came
together. It took a couple of attempts, and the girl squeaked in pain
when her boob became trapped, then it slid into place and the box
fitted neatly together. Only the girl's horrified face was now
visible, peering out of the top of the apparatus and whimpering in
fright.

Because of the upward angle of the breast enclosures, the top of the
box was almost level with her chin, and protruded straight forward
almost a metre in front of her. It made a flat table in front of her
eyes, where food could be placed while she was being fed. Anyone doing
the feeding would have to stand to the side of the box, as it stuck
out too far to reach her mouth from directly in front.

"So far, so good. Her breasts were a little bigger than they should
have been", said the engineer, looking at Ziggi as if it were all her
fault. "Still, no harm done! Just a couple of things to do, now." He
fastened three large toggle clips which secured the box closed, then
attached a winding handle to the side of the apparatus, about where
her waist would be. Slowly, watching a digital display panel on the
side of the control cabinet, he wound the handle until the girl gave a
squeal of pain, then he backed it off a quarter of a turn.

"That controls the size of the waist. We will wind her in a bit
tighter every day. She started off with 44 cm. I have cranked her up
to 42 to start with. It will be uncomfortable for her at first, but
she'll get used to it in a day or two."

Ziggi's eyes were wet with tears. She was gasping for breath.

"How small are you aiming for", I asked the engineer.

"The Pasha wants 25 cm, but I'm sure he'll settle for 30, when he sees
it! With her tits filling all that space up the top and her bottom
taking up all the room down below, she'll have the best hourglass
figure the master has ever seen, in a month or two!"

A month or two! I could imagine it. Fatima was stroking Ziggi's hair.
I found a towel, soaked it in water, and gave it to Fatima to wipe the
girl's face. The poor kid! I would have to bring her something special
to eat later on, to see if it would make her happier.


**********

I was a bit upset when I got back to the physician's quarters, because
I had missed Helga's weighing and measuring. I asked the weights and
measures clerk where she was.

"You missed her!" The clerk gave me an insolent grin. "She was in and
out in five minutes. It's all this new equipment. It's increased
productivity no end. If this goes on, we'll be able to bring girls in
from all over the Middle East for weighing and measuring. I might
suggest it to the Pasha, we could turn this place into a little gold
mine."

I looked for the book with the girl's details. "Where's the book?"

"No book any more!" He sounded aghast at the very idea. "It's been
phased out in our on-going dehistorification initiative. We're
paperless as of this week. It will save twenty thousand a year in
stationery and pens alone, and it will enable the implementation of
large-scale redeployment of human resources to make room for a
twenty-four per centile annual right-sizing in our accountant
recruitment arc."

"Ark?"

"No, arc!"

"Oh, *arc*!"

I knew we should never have sent this nerd on a business management
course. I'd have a word with the Pasha, and get him replaced by a girl
with big tits. Better do it soon, while I was still in the Pasha's
good books. Assuming he still had good books and hadn't phased them
out in his on-going dehistorification initiative.

At least, dehistorification would mean a lot to Ziggi in her
apparatus. In the bad old days, she'd have been in a big stoneware
pot, and they'd have had to break it in a few months' time to get her
out. So she was living in the lap of luxury in her cosy box, with hot
and cold running water and warm air dryer to stop her going mouldy. I
hope she appreciated it.


**********

"How are the new girls settling in", Mansoor asked.

Emily pulled up her gauzy pants and adjusted her top. It was getting
rather snug. "Hen's fine, she's getting used to things now, but Jane
still hasn't said anything."

"Jane? How do you know her name, then?"

"We don't. We christened her Jane because I was Tarzan." Mansoor
looked so perplexed by that statement that Emily decided it would be
easier not to try to explain further. She hurried on. "She seems happy
enough; I mean, she smiles a lot, even during the sex, but she just
never speaks. We should have called her Harpo."

"Who is this Harpo?"

Emily opened her mouth, then closed it again. "He used to be in the
movies. He played the harp, and cut people's ties off with a pair of
scissors."

"I see", said Mansoor. He was silent for a few minutes. "We heard
about the German family. The ones I told you about? They've gone into
the same harem as Candi, as we suspected. The chopper got a picture of
them as they were exercising. It was just before the Winnebago left
the desert to go back to the harem. Here."

The photographs Mansoor fished out of an inside pocket showed the
motor home surrounded by rocks. The man in the blue suit was looking
up, shading his eyes. The African man and the matron from the harem
were at the door of the vehicle watching the family. There were six
females of various ages, but the pictures were taken from too far away
to see any useful detail.

"The Winnebago arrived at the harem and went into the grounds",
Mansoor went on. "It drove away two hours later, and went straight to
Al Shafiz Airport. It stopped outside the car rental offices. Blue
Suit and the driver got out and went into the terminal. A while later,
the blue helicopter took off. The Winnebago was empty. We checked it
for clues with a fine toothcomb."

"What's a toothcomb?" asked Emily. "Do you have them, too?"

"Standard police equipment all over the world, apparently, although I
never actually saw one."


**********

"Hello, Candi!" Fatima used her huskiest voice.

"Oh, hi!" What did *she* want. As if Candi couldn't guess. She
reclined on her couch, allowing her transparent pants to cling to the
contours of her plump flesh. Not being able to see it was a drawback,
so she stretched her leg out to one side just to make sure the
material outlined her pussy more dramatically.

Fatima licked her lips. Obviously the view was having an effect on
her. "Come to my room for the rest of the afternoon, Candi. I have
some new jewels for you to try."

Worth it, thought Candi. Let's see what she's got this time. In fact,
her sex parts were getting pretty-well encrusted with jewels by now,
but she might suggest something *really* big and flashy for her navel.
That ought to be worth an hour's sucking!

"I'm ready when you are, madam", she told the older woman, and
struggled to her feet. Then she padded ahead of Fatima down the
corridor to the chief matron's sleeping quarters, Fatima admiring the
view from behind.

In fact, as Candi was quite unable to see past her breasts and
stomach, it could be almost *anyone* tongue-ing her down there. So she
could indulge her wildest fantasies. No, not just anyone! Fatima gave
the most fantastic head imaginable. When I get home, Candi thought, I
will remember some of the things Fatima does with her tongue. It might
come in handy.

The teenager chose a huge ruby from the pile Fatima spread before her.
It gleamed from the depths of her navel like an all-seeing eye. The
gym mistress would love that when she got back to school! Although,
thinking about it, of course, the gym mistress would only be able to
see it if Candi lay on her back with her breasts lying on each side of
her body. Standing up, they hid her navel completely. Candi decided
that if only she could be allowed to go home, she wouldn't even object
to the gym mistress inspecting her prostrate, naked body.

"We will have the jeweller mount it there tomorrow", Fatima purred,
"now, my sweetness, part your silken thighs. My goodness, you are
dripping wet already! After this, you will need another bath. I may
even join you ..."





Chapter 37:- Any Time Is Feeding Time

Ziggi's box was placed just outside the doorway of the medical centre.
The position was dictated by the availability of water and waste
disposal services, as well as the necessary power and data cables.
>From Ziggi's point of view, it was an excellent spot, as she could see
everyone who came and went. In the course of a day, her sisters, her
mother and her grandmother passed at least three times in each
direction, and they always stopped for a chat.

Candi and several of the others girls were for ever coming by, too.
The physician was a nice enough old boy, and so were the matrons and
orderlies who stuck the needles in her nipples twice a day. Hassan and
Fatima had been very nice to her while she was being fitted into the
apparatus, and even the engineer, although he tightened her waist-band
ever day, always had time for a friendly word or two.

They all brought her little items of food. Apart from her breakfast,
lunch, afternoon snack, dinner and supper, the medical staff usually
fetched her a few sandwiches in the middle of the night. Candi brought
her chunks of Turkish Delight. Fatima specialised in delicious little
cakes. Hassan seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of thick creamy
gateaux, which he fed to her with a fork. Her grandmother seemed
anxious that she wasn't eating properly, and smuggled odd bite-size
portions of meat and vegetables from her own meals. Her mother made
sure she always had enough bread and cheese.

The twins gave her sweets, which they said the Pasha gave them for
some reason. And Helga brought her freshly-made cakes the nice lady in
the kitchen always gave her.

"Have another bite", she told her young sister. "There are three more
in this bag." Ziggi did her best, but it had been a busy day in the
medical centre. She hadn't stopped eating since breakfast and it was
almost time for supper. She farted and found room for another
mouthful. Delicious!

"Thanks", she said, remembering her manners.

"You're welcome", said Helga. "How's it going in there?"

"It was horrible for the first two weeks", Ziggi panted, "but it's not
too bad now. I can piss and shit whenever I like, with nobody to stop
me, it's great!"

"Nobody ever stopped you shitting before, did they?" Helga asked,
perplexed.

"Not exactly, but now, I can go ten times a day if I like. And I do!"
A distant expression crossed her face. "I'm having another one now!"

Helga had been about to finish off the last of the cakes, but changed
her mind. Ziggi grunted, concentrating hard, then a blissful smile
spread across her face.

"This is the best bit", she murmured, and bent her head down to turn
on the water spray with her nose. "After the first week, I found the
water spray was hitting me at *just* the right place! I do it all the
time now! Oooooh! Jeezus, that's fantastic!"

Helga looked at her sister with envy. "What's happening in there?" she
demanded.

"I dunno, but it feels just like wanking!"

"Oh, you dirty little pig!"

"I can't help it if the water hits me just there, can I?" the girl
whined, petulantly.

"You don't need to bring yourself off every half hour, though, do
you?"

"Every half hour? Oooh, no, it's much more than that sometimes!"

Who would have thought, when the engineer and the Pasha had planned
their apparatus for Ziggi, that it would have transformed itself into
a high tech wanking machine within a week?

The hot air fan started, and Ziggi closed her eyes. "Night, Helga",
she sighed, dreamily. "See you in the morning."


**********

The weights and measures clerk was pleased with Ziggi's progress. She
was sound asleep when he looked in on her before going to bed, so he
left the packet of Giant Original Chocolate Chip Cookies on the top of
the control cabinet where the night medical staff would see them. They
would feed them to her when they woke her up for the toilet and a
kebab or two in the middle of the night.

Her weight had increased by leaps and bounds in the month since she
had been installed in the box. And the engineer had reported that her
waist was now down to a very comfortable 33 cm, which was excellent
news. That equalled the world record, 33 cm. Perhaps the harem would
appear in the Guinness Book of Records next year. He would have to
remind the Pasha. A bit of good publicity never did any harm.

He gazed at Ziggi proudly, the box in its horizontal sleeping
position, her head resting slightly on one side, her mouth slightly
open. Peering down through the feeding-holes in the breast spaces, he
could see the nipples had already reached the holes, so her breasts
were now almost 45 cm long. There was no way of seeing her buttocks,
unfortunately, but the weights and measures clerk could imagine them.
Most enjoyable, it was, too. In a few more weeks she'd be really
compressed - nearly bursting - then they would have a grand dramatic
box-opening. He wondered if the world's press and television would be
interested. Really, the Pasha did miss out on so many public relations
opportunities.

Still, the master was getting on in years, and becoming set in his
ways.

But the weights and measures clerk had an idea. He could give the
Pasha a pleasant surprise!


**********

The weights and measures clerk was in for a pleasant surprise himself.
The next morning, he had sat down at his terminal as usual. He had
passed Ziggi in her box; the cookies had all gone, and as she had just
finished her breakfast, he had given her only half of the large
chocolate bar. She could have the rest in mid-morning with her coffee
and Danish pastries.

Quickly he checked the list of automatic readings which had downloaded
themselves from Ziggi's apparatus overnight. Weight gained. Weight of
waste ejected. Orgasms, eleven and a half. A bit below her normal, but
well within parameters. Being a no-ball, he accepted the concept of
half an orgasm with equanimity. There were a few more daily tasks to
complete, then he could get on with his plan.

He hadn't expected to find an Internet connection already in place.
Who had set that up, he wondered. It works, too, he said to himself,
as somewhere in the harem a modem dialled out and he found himself
logged in. Quickly, he closed the connection. Not yet!

Within half an hour, he had discovered a whole bunch of directories on
the network, not protected by a password, so presumably available for
anyone to use. Anyone with the knowledge, of course. There weren't too
many of those in this place. Perhaps the engineer, the technical
people who kept the computer network running, maybe the Pasha himself.
No, not the Pasha; wrong generation. No need for passwords, there was
no point in protecting information if there was nobody around with the
know-how to access it.

He browsed through the information and discovered a mail program.
Handy, he thought. If I can find out a few addresses, I can send a
message or two out and see what comes back. He explored further, and
found something called the Out Box. Oddly, it seemed to be full of
messages. He selected one at random and began to read ...


**********

The girls in the bath loved Candi's ruby. They were smart enough not
to ask how she came by it. There was nothing to be gained by getting
on the wrong side of the chief matron, so they kept their suspicions
to themselves. One day, it might be one of them. They watched Candi
wallow in the steaming waters, then waddle away to have her boys check
her body for hairs.

She had a heavy date tonight, the Pasha fancied a bit of pregnant lust
again. Just the three of them, Gretchen would be there as well. Not
that the Pasha would even dream of penetrating the German woman, of
course, but having the two of them in his bed was well on its way to
becoming the highlight of the week.

The Pasha hadn't yet sent for the eldest daughter, Helga. He had
dropped in on the medical centre hoping to find her being weighed and
measured, but the clerk told him that she was in and out in five
minutes now, with the new automated systems that were in place.

At least, the Pasha had remembered to bring a strawberry cheesecake
with whipped cream along with him. He had fed several handfuls to
Ziggi, then left the rest for the medical staff to give to her after
her lunch.

The evening went quite well for the two mothers-to-be. Unusually, the
Pasha fell asleep halfway through, and the two women propped him up
between them with pillows, and settled down to watch fifty
simultaneous channels of satellite television.

"Gretch", Candi said, after a while.

Gretchen couldn't quite get used to her new name. "Yes, Can, what it
is?"

Candi didn't mind. Everybody called her Can back home. "Do you want to
stay in this place for the rest of your life?" She spoke softly,
keeping an eye on the gently snoring Pasha.

"Of course not! But have *you* any idea how we could get out?"

"Not me, but Fatima might!"

"Fatima? *She* won't help us escape, she's a faithful servant of this
guy here..."

"I wasn't thinking of just *asking* her. I was hoping she might be
persuaded to change her mind."

"I don't think we could be persuasive enough for that."

"Oh, I don't know. Perhaps we could arrange it so that she'd *have* to
change her mind ..."


**********

So, it had been Adnan!

The weights and measures clerk blew out his cheeks. Adnan, the laundry
technician who had disappeared at the same time as Kitty and the other
girls, had been up to something. He had sent a number of messages to
one particular address. They were in some sort of shorthand: not code,
but bits and pieces of words that made no great sense. It might, after
a few hours of study, but not at first reading.

There were no replies, the In Box had been emptied, but there was a
large file which had been attached to one of the incoming messages. He
managed to display it, but it appeared to be nothing more informative
than a pencil sketch of a young boy, a white boy with
disproportionately large ears. Surely nobody had ears as big as that.
He would have remembered if he had seen *this* boy.

Anyway, the clerk had someone to send a message to now, he would write
and introduce himself. It would be useful training. Once he was au
fait with the system, he could start his public relations exercise. He
could open a Web page! The Pasha would be over the moon with delight
when he found the harem mentioned in the Guinness Book of Records!

He selected 'New Message' and began to type.


**********

"Funny thing, today, I had a message from the harem."

"A messenger?" Emily finished brushing her hair and admired herself in
the full-length mirror. She turned this way and that, and a little
smile appeared on her face.

Mansoor was watching her reflection. "Not a messenger, an e-mail
message." Emily turned round to look at him directly.

"But Adnan's not there any more, is he? And he said nobody else uses
the mail system."

"He said nobody else even knew how. But it's not him, although it's
his address. Funny, whoever wrote it said we didn't know him, and he
kind of introduced himself. He's a clerk; called himself the weights
and measures clerk, like it was an official title. And he said he has
access to all the weights and measurements of all the harem girls. As
if he was proud of it!"

"Does he know about Candi?"

"He didn't mention her. But the way he just came right out and said
all this stuff! It's weird."

"What should he tell *you*, of all people?"

"What do you mean, me, of all people? He has no idea who I am. He
certainly doesn't know I'm the law. And I'm not about to tell him for
a while."

"Have you told him anything?"

"I figure we've got to find out as much as we can before he gets
discovered by somebody in the harem. Or before he realises he's
telling his whole life story to a complete stranger at Police
Headquarters. We have to play him along, but quickly. I can't ask him
about Candi, or anyone else. All it's possible to do is to get him to
talk as freely as possible about his weights and measures, and see
what he tells us. Then I can ask a few questions ..."





Chapter 38:- A Bargain

I don't often get visitors at the harem. We are very much a closed
society, self contained. We need to be able to look after all our
needs from our own resources. So I don't get many visitors. It was a
surprise to get a call that a Mr Abdijian was here to see me, and
waiting in the small reception room.

"Mr What?"

"Abdijian", said the matron with a shrug. "I haven't seen him, I just
pass messages for other people."

Was she being insolent, this matron? I looked sharply at her, but she
looked completely innocent. Or as innocent as a harem matron can be.
"I'll see him shortly", I told her. "Tell him that!"

"Oh, I'll tell him shortly, shall I? Well if you're going that way
shortly, you may as well tell him shortly yourself."

I don't know where we get the staff, these days. I stomped off down
the corridor. This Abdijian was keeping me from important harem
business: I had been going down to give Ziggi a hunk of gateau we'd
had flown in from Bavaria only this week. Now it was going to have to
wait until she'd had her lunch. Inconsiderate caller like this
Abdijian would make our girls starve, and they wouldn't give a
tinker's cuss.

I burst into the reception room. A man was reading a magazine. He put
it down and stood up as I came in. It was Blue Suit. "You?" I said.

"Who else did you expect?"

"Oh, no, nobody. They must have got the name wrong, these careless
girls."

"Oh, really, who did they say had called?"

I can't remember. Khatchaturyan, or something!"

"Sorry, my fault. I do gabble sometimes." As ever, he spoke slowly and
distinctly. "My name does sound rather like Khatchaturyan when I
gabble."

"It's quite all right", I said, forgivingly, "but how can we help you.
Or you us?"

"Pregnant women."

"Sorry?"

"Pregnant women. I noticed a few weeks ago, when you bought the German
family from me; how are they, by the way; I noticed your master seemd
particularly taken with the mother, the pregnant one."

"Ah, Gretchen", I said.

"Gretchen. Lovely name. Yes, he seemed most pleased with her. I had
thought the Pasha preferred them young and staggeringly
over-developed."

"He does indeed. But pregnant ones are also an interest of his. More
of a sideline, really, but at the moment, he is spending a great deal
of time with two of ours. Gretchen and young Candi, you remember her?"

"Ah, the lovely Candi. English girl. Marvellous! And pregnant, too.
What a happy event. Well, I have another one for him."

He could be so blunt, sometimes. Our way of doing business is to skirt
around a subject for several hours before coming to the point. So
brusque. Almost European. "Another one?"

"European girl. Well, a woman, really. About thirty-something, I
suppose. Look, I won't beat about the bush any longer. You came up
trumps with the Germans. I need to move this one fast. She's nearly
seven months gone, and I don't want to risk her dropping it on the
stage at the next auction sale. Can you use her?"

"I can hardly spend my master's money just on a whim, like this."

"Sorry, I thought he trusted you with his financial affairs. After
all, he allowed you to name your own price for the Germans ..."

"That was different ..."

"... very different, actually. You can have her for forty-two
thousand!"

"I can't commit the Pasha to spending forty-two ..."

"All right, forty!"

I had to laugh. Here he was, expecting me to be able to buy some
woman, sight unseen, she might be a right dog. And to think, he
honestly believed I could, *I*, Hassan, could buy her on my own
initiative.

"Thirty-eight. Sorry, I can't come down any more. Did I mention it,
she has huge tits! Thirty-seven five; I'm cutting my throat as it is."

It sounded a reasonable price, actually! And I had spent many times
that amount last month on the German family. "Done!" I heard myself
say.

Blue Suit stood up and extended his hand, fingers outspread. "As
usual, a pleasure..."

"Mine entirely", I said, feeling less than sure of myself.

"I'll deliver her tomorrow, if that's agreeable?"

"Certainly. Tomorrow. I'll brief the Pasha. Where does she come from,
by the way, this woman?"

"From Turkey. But she's Swedish."

"Swedish, huh?" Perhaps this wouldn't be such a bad deal after all.


**********

Blue Suit sat in his helicopter and pressed several buttons. "Hello,
Latif? Abi! Yeah! Great!" He mopped his brow with a large blue
handkerchief. "Okay. I saw Hassan. Yeah, the African one. Ha-ha yeah!
No problem. He swallowed it whole. Twenty-nine five! I know, he drives
a hard bargain, it was five lower than my rock-bottom figure.
Tomorrow, right? Okay, then. In the morning. Bye."

He signalled to the pilot with a whirling finger above his head.


**********

"Hello, Aftab? Latif. We'll take the blonde dog off your hands. Nah!
Twenty-seven five. I know, I know. Well, do *you* want her around when
she drops her litter? Nah, dunno who's having her. Some wanker fancies
pregnant birds. Must be to pay twenty-seven five for a couple of
months's fun and games! Yeah. Tonight. See ya."


**********

I was sweating when I knocked on the Pasha's door. A black boy opened
it just wide enough to get his head round it. "Whatddya want", he
said, chewing gum with his insolent mouth open. What is it with these
people? Don't staff show any respect these days?

"I wish to have words with the Pasha!"

"Hang on, I'll see if he wants to see ya!" And he left me standing
outside the door. In the passageway like a brush salesman. The boy
returned. Now he'd have to show me in, and show some respect. "Ten
minutes, okay? You wanna come back, or you gonna wait there?"

"I'll wait inside."

The boy muttered something under his breath. He opened the door a
little wider, so I had to squeeze through. When I looked round, he'd
disappeared. "Little bastard!"

"I beg your pardon?" The Pasha was at my elbow.

"Oh, sire! You are here!"

"Where else would you expect me to be? It was me you wanted, wasn't
it?"

"Oh, yes. I wished to see you about a small and insignificant matter."

"You need money for something?"

"Wha...? Well, yes, a little, in fact."

"See my clerk, you know you can always get petty cash. What are you
buying, anyway?"

"Oh, just a woman. A pregnant woman." This conversation wasn't turning
out the way I'd planned at all.

"Pregnant? How much?"

"Thirty seven and a half ..."

"She couldn't get any more pregnant than that. She'll be having it any
day now! What do want a nine months pregnant woman for?"

"That was the price. She 's only six months gone."

"Six months? Hmmm. Same as Candi and Gretchen. Very nice, too. How
much did you say she was ...?"

"Thirty ..."

"Ah, yes, I remember. Send her in, then, let's have a look at her."

"She'll be here tomorrow!"

"Tomorrow? Why are you getting me all excited if you haven't got her
for another day? Get her in here tomorrow as soon as she arrives. No,
second thoughts, get her cleaned up first, then I can use her straight
away."

"What about the money ...?"

"Told you, see my clerk, it's petty cash. Right, gotta go. It's half
time in the match."

That would explain the Pasha's bizarre form of dress. He was wearing
soccer kit.

"Where's she from, this woman?"

"Turkey. But she's Swedish."

"Swedish, huh? Like Kitty!"

Well, not quite.


**********

"I wish we knew Mansoor's name", Caro complained for the umpteenth
time. "How can we get in touch with Emily if we don't know anyone's
name? Toots, can't you remember any names?"

"Shit, I can't even remember me own name, remember?" Toots pouted and
slumped in the armchair, her chin in her hands, her breasts squashing
out beneath her arms to the sides.

Lucinda tried another tack. "What about the other bloke? The one who
worked in the laundry?"

"Adnan. There must be fifty thousand Adnans in that country. And they
wouldn't have let him near the harem again after his part in the
escape." Caro thumped the table with her small fist, and the others
started in surprise. "It's got to be the police headquarters. If we
get through to headquarters and ask for Mansoor..."

"How many Mansoor's have they got, you reckon?"

"Only one who drives Zulfiqar's car. But what's the use? We can't just
ring enquiries and get the number. It's not that sort of country."

They'd had the same conversation fifty times since arriving home.
Usually it broke up with the girls despairing of ever getting in touch
with Emily. It was different this time.

"Caro?" Mother, shouting from downstairs. "Phone, quickly, darling!
It's a bit of a bad line."

Caro picked up the phone. There was nothing but a loud hissing noise,
with echoing crashes and bangs. "Hello?" she shouted.

"Caro? That you?" The voice was familiar, somehow. Surely not!

"Yes, it's me, Caro, who's that?"

"It's Em! Emily!"

"Emily?" she shouted, and Cinders and Toots shot to their feet and
crowded round Caro. "Where are you? Are you home? In England?"

"No. Listen, pet. Ah've gorra be quick. Got a pencil. Here, right this
down ..." And she recited a strange group of words. Caro shrugged and
wrote it all down. "Make sure you get the dots in the right places, or
it won't work. Oh, shit. I've gorra go. Bye, pet ..." There was
nothing on the line any more. Just a faint hiss, then the dialling
tone.

"Bye ..." Caro put the phone down, her voice cracking. "She had to
go", she explained to the other two.

"How was she?" Cinders asked.

"She didn't say."

"Is she still at Zed's?" said Toots.

"I don't know!"

"What about Mansoor?"

"I DON'T KNOW!" Caro flung the pencil across the room. "Oh, shit! She
got through to us, then there wasn't time to say anything. And now
she'll never get through again. I know she won't. Zed's probably
killed her for using the phone."

Cinders was studying the piece of paper. "Have they got a computer at
Zed's", she asked.

"Never saw one. I shouldn't think Em has much time for games anyway."

"No, but she might have time to read a message. This is an address,
you've written down here. An email address."

"What d'you mean? It doesn't look like one."

"No. When you wrote it down, you wrote exactly what Emily said. You
put Monserrat as the first word. If you'd put mansur@, or mansoor@, it
would make sense."

"Let's see." Cinders was right. The rest of the address was clear
enough. It was just that first word. "Have you got email at school?"

"Yes, in the IT lab", said Cinders. "I could try sending a message to
this address tomorrow, see what happens."

"Try both spellings of Mansoor, okay?"

"Okay!"

"Where you going, Toots?" She was halfway through the door.

"Shan't be long. I gotta go celebrate. Down the village green."

"Horny little bitch", said Cinders. 


**********

Emily was a bundle of nerves for the rest of the day. Zulfiqar had
come into the house while she was on the phone and she was sure he'd
seen her through the window. She waited for the blow to fall. But
evening came, and bedtime. And that was it. She had cut the call short
without being able to say anything to her friend. The chance might
never occur again.

All she'd managed to do was to pass that stupid address. It had all
happened on impulse. Zed was out. Mansoor was away on a job. She'd
found Caro's number while sorting out some papers. Tears fell on the
piece of paper. She'd last seen it at the airport as Caro stuffed it
into the pocket of her robe before she flew away home. Another piece
of paper showed Mansoor's email address. It was worth a try. Anything
was worth a try.

She didn't even dare mention it to Mansoor when he called in on his
way back to headquarters. He would only scold her for endangering
herself by using the telephone without permission.





Chapter 39:- Slimmer Of The Month

Gretchen and Candi lay side by side in the medical centre. They had
passed Ziggi on the way in, and both had given her something to eat,
her mother had a spicy, savoury meatball, and a minute later, Candi
provided a small cherry cake. "Sorry it's not more", they had both
said, in turn, but you'll be having your afternoon snack in an hour,
won't you?"

Ziggi had belched happily and nodded.

Now the two pregnant women were talking to each other while matrons
hovered ready to carry out their regular inspections. One was
approaching with a tape measure. They still carried out these
measurements by hand, as the engineer had not yet devised a machine to
automate the process, to the open disgust of the weights and measures
clerk.

"I must confess, I've been feeding Ziggi", said Gretchen. "I'm sure
she's being starved in that box. The engineer said he's got her waist
down to 33 centimetres. She must be going mad with hunger."

"It's cruelty", agreed Candi. "I give her a cake now and then. I'll
try and get hold of a few more if she's being starved. It's nearly
five weeks now, that's a long time for a growing girl to be without
food!"

The matron slipped a hand beneath Gretchen's back and slid the tape
round her belly at the widest point. She brought the ends of the tape
together and announced the measurement to the clerk, who tapped the
figures straight in on the keyboard. "How big was that", whispered
Candi.

"About one hundred-forty, one-forty-five, I think. Didn't get a good
look. Why do they keep measuring us all the time?"

"Dunno. They always have done. Look out, my turn!" Candi needed two
matrons to lift her, and a third to push the end of the tape
underneath her. A fourth pulled it through and wrapped it round her
mound so that the two ends met near her ruby-filled navel."

"That's nearly two hundred!" snorted Gretchen, "I'll never be that
much!"

The physician was hovering near the clerk's desk. He shook his head
and came over. "Hello, Candi. Frau Schwalbenschwanz." He inclined his
head to Gretchen. "Candi. I have something serious to tell you. If
Frau Schwalbenschwanz will forgive me ..."

"Go ahead, doc, Gretchen and me are bestest friends."

"Very well. You are much too heavy, Candi. We have been monitoring
your weight carefully, and it is too great. You are very fit. Indeed,
I have never seen such a fit young woman as you, but you must lose
quite a lot. I want you down to one hundred kilos by the time you have
your baby."

Gretchen gasped. A hundred kilos would mean nothing to Candi until she
had translated it into pounds and then into stones. Gretchen could
relate to the figure straight away, and knew it meant Candi losing
something like fifty kilos in three months. They were going to starve
the poor child! Not content with starving her poor little Ziggi...

The physician went on. "We will start straight away. The matrons will
prepare you for an enema this afternoon, then we will start you on a
special high-nourishment diet. You will not starve, don't worry. And
you will become much fitter as you lose weight. It is for your own
good, believe me."


**********

Fatima's eyes lit up. She loved Candi just the way she was, but if the
doctor said she needed to lose fifty kilos, okay, it would be just as
much fun helping her lose it! The reason was a good one. Candi's
thighs were so huge that even as fit as she was, she couldn't spread
her legs wide enough apart to let the baby through. That was fair
enough: and she'd be even better to play with afterwards without the
risk of getting suffocated.

"It will be a pleasure, doctor. I'll get a couple of my women and
we'll get down to it straight away tonight. We'll start with an
enema!"

"Yes, I thought you might", said the physician. "Enjoy!"

She called a couple of matrons. Sabah was one of the best,
experienced, and in line for the top job one day. The other one was a
new matron, Nejla. Fatima thought she looked about twelve. A sign that
you're getting older, when the matrons start to look young.

Sabah was ready to start straight away. "Let me at her! I always
thought they'd overdone the fattening on that one, you could see her
thighs were much too big. Just like everything else. I can't imagine
that anyone could find her attractive."

Fatima looked at her sharply. Did she know something? Or was she just
guessing? Sabah's face was inscrutable. The chief matron turned to
Nejla. "You haven't administered an enema before, have you?"

"No, ma'am."

"Well, you're in good hands with Sabah, here. She loves doing them. I
sometimes think she would prefer an enema to having a good stiff rod
up inside her."

"Certainly I would", remarked Sabah, genuinely surprised. "Wouldn't
anyone?"

Nejla asked, "What do we have to do? I have never done any of these
things. I know about fattening them up, but we don't get make girls
slimmer here too often."

Fatima laughed. "It's great fun! We'll take Candi to the shower and
put her in what we call the flushing stall. It has everything we need
installed there. We inject a certain amount of warm water inside her.
She will have to hold it for at least a quarter of an hour while we
take a good look at her puffed-up balloon. Then she gets two more.
After that, she will get another enema every two hours until the end
of her first diet day. You don't really *need* to take notes, Nejla,
you'll pick it up soon enough once we start."

Sabah had a gleam in her eye. She carried on where Fatima had left
off. "Tomorow, and every other day, she will get three *hefty* enemas;
one in the morning, one at noon, and one before she goes to bed. The
amount of water, especially during the first two days, is carefully
measured and we increase it a little bit every time she gets it.
You'll be able to watch her shrink before your very eyes."

"Wow! I think I could start to enjoy this."

"You'll need a lot of experience and knowledge before you can treat a
girl this way on your own. The water must be carefully measured. Don't
forget she's got a hugely distended belly. The secret is first of all
to let the water in very, very slowly. If you fill her up too fast,
you might do some damage. I've seen some nasty things, believe me.
There was a young eunuch once, not too experienced, he filled a
prepubescent girl too fast and too much."

"What happened?" Nejla was enthralled.

"She had the kid right there in the enema stall."

"It scared the shit out of the eunuch, I can tell you!" laughed
Fatima. "But anyway, it's lot of fun. You have to be careful not to
get caught, but you can really play with the girls when they're full
up."

"Tell me more", said Nejla, reaching for her notebook again.

Fatima could hardly conceal her excitement. "Right, when you pump warm
water inside the pregnant girl, it builds up a terrific pressure on
her lower belly and her pudenda. I never saw a girl who didn't get
really "hot*! You wouldn't believe it! You'll see. She'll open up like
a flower blossoming in the spring sunshine. Both sets of labia and all
her other wrinkles will be really swollen and hanging out of her slot
like the petals of an open rose. In the middle will be her tickler,
puffy and red, huge and just about ready to jump out of there. If
she's still got one, that is!"

Sabah joined in. "Of course. When I first started as a matron, I was
in a harem where the Pasha couldn't stand seeing a set of girlie-bits
on a slave for five minutes. Circumcision was a daily routine. They
always cut the girls while they were getting an enema. See, the
circumcistrice found that when the belly was full and distended to the
absolute maximum, it made it so easy to make a good clean job of it.
Our girls were so clean and nicely cut we actually did contract work,
pruning for outside clients."

Fatima jumped in. "But *we* will use the full belly for something
else. We will show you on Candi today. When she gets to the end of her
second treatment, and she's wide open and sticking out, we will frig
her! It won't take a minute and she'll have a really big one. You can
go down and watch as her puffy lips get purple red; then - just like
that - they get all wet and dripping with girl-juice. I tried it a
couple of times on myself, it's incredible. But in Candi's case we
have keep an eye on her belly and its expansion and movements. What I
always do, I probe and check the filling belly all the time it's
filling, while with the other hand I can still play with her
girlie-bits."

The three of them were silent for a moment, getting wet just thinking
about it. The only sound was of three lots of heavy breathing. Nejla
recovered first.

"Well, come on, girls, let's go! You've got me soaked already. I will
definitely learn something on Candi today, even if it's only how to
take care of a pregnant belly!"


**********

"Never mind, Gretch", said Candi. "I needed to lose a few pounds. I
can give half my dinners to Ziggi!"

"Oh, Candi, darlink! I feel so sorry for you. An enema. It's
dreadful!"

"Oh, I dunno", said Candi, dreamily. "One of the girls the other day
was saying how she'd had one, and she said she'd never been so turned
on in her life!"

"I'm sure I could think of some better ways if you gave me time. Like
about ten seconds!"

" I'll be all right, Gretch. Is that really your name, by the way?"

"What, Gretchen?"

"No, Frau Whatever he said?"

"Schwalbenschwanz?"

"Yeah!"

Gretchen spluttered helplessly. "It was Grossmutter's idea. She said
the first name that came into her head. I suppose, we're stuck with it
now."

"It's quite a pretty name", said Candi. "Shit. Here they come now.
Time for the treatment. See ya later, okay?"

"See you later, darlink."


**********

Nejla really learned a thing or two in the enema stall. Sabah enjoyed
herself immensely. Fatima indulged herself, pretending to carefully
examine Candi's swollen belly, while intimately fondling the girl
between her enormous thighs. Candi made a mental note to tell the
enema fans among the harem girls that it was okay as far as it went,
but it wasn't a patch on the real thing.

She lay, panting, in the medical centre. Sabah and Nejla had left for
their supper, chattering eagerly about great enemas of the past.
Fatima ran a hand across Candi's belly, stroking her gently and
possessively.

The girl looked up drowsily at her. "You do that so nicely, Fatima!"
she murmured.

"Thank you, my dear. You know why, don't you?"

"No. Why?"

"Because you're very special to me, Candi. There's never been anyone
quite like you before!"

Candi closed her eyes and smiled to herself. "Fatima", she said.

"Yes, my sweetness?"

"What would they do to you if they found you were taking me to bed and
making love to me three times a week?" She felt Fatima's hand stiffen
on her belly. The stroking stopped. Candi, with an effort, kept her
eyes shut. "I'd hate them to *do* anything to you, Fatima. Know what I
mean?"

The hand was removed from her mound. She opened her eyes. Fatima had
gone.




<End of Part XI>


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