The Adventures of the Golden Goose

Chapter 4: The Bad Doctor Strikes!

By FermiRefuted

[Author’s note: This two-part story written with both thanks and apologies to Mr. X, who has provided us all with so much entertainment using these tropes that I had to have a go at them myself. Advance warning that this chapter and the next are a “lost in the sewers” / tentacle monster story - Fermi]

Part one: Nerve and knowledge

“Rise and shine, Goose!”

CRACK!

The leather whip lashed viciously across the Golden Goose’s quivering rump, waking her up with a squeal. The world lurched around her and she felt a sharp stretch across her upper back. Her sore, overextended arms were held fast over her head by manacles which dangled from the ceiling.

The Golden Goose was in her trademark gold bikini, which strained tight around her plush, voluptuous figure. Plump and replete from her nightly diet of criminal semen, she had been easily captured. Her typically delicate peroxide curls were dishevelled from the brief, unequal struggle, and her golden-feathered mask and headdress was in crumpled disarray.

The heroine’s bulging stomach, spray-tanned a rich copper tone, sagged down over the thin strip of golden cloth that disappeared into the deep, hot cleft of her labia. Her recently-shaved mons now boasted no blonde pubic fuzz to conceal it. The jutting shelf of cellulite that was her bottom shimmied constantly as she struggled, to no avail. The vigilante’s large breasts heaved and jostled with her distress and humiliation.

“Oh… you rotten sods!” she shouted, into the shadowy, dimly-lit chamber. The windowless concrete walls and the close, musty air gave had an underground feel. “Where… where the bloody hell am I?”

Cruel male laughter filled the chamber from all directions, but answer came there none.

CRACK!

“AAAH! STOP IT!” squawked the Golden Goose, feeling stinging red welts rise on her buttocks. She flinched away from her assailant as far as her chains would allow.

The laughter of her captors continued to boom throughout the cavernous space. Teetering on top of her six-inch stiletto pumps, the heroine found herself facing the glass wall of a huge aquarium tank, stretching from floor to ceiling. Light rippled through the water, casting a blue glow over everything.

Between the Golden Goose and the tank stood a thin man, ghastly pale, with high, sharp cheekbones and a prematurely greying undercut. The dim light gleamed off his black leather trenchcoat and the sunglasses he apparently wore indoors. He, and the two muscle-bound thugs in sleeveless vests who flanked him, wore latex medical gloves.

The man in the leather coat held the whip. His mouth, lips parted in a cold permanent sneer, twisted into a grin as he met the Golden Goose’s panicked, darting blue eyes. Between them and the tank glittered a table of pristine surgical equipment.

“Oh, no…” said the Golden Goose.

“Oh, yes.” Said the Bad Doctor.

***

“In some ways,”, said Emeric Spendlove M.D., a.k.a. the Bad Doctor, leader of the Relentless Boys and – until recently – the premier drug dealer in Gruntham-on-Sleet, “We are quite alike.”

The blue light of the tank glistened on the Bad Doctor’s sunglasses. Leering down at the Golden Goose, his face inches away from hers, he cupped and pinched her soft, trembling breasts while the heroine squirmed and whimpered.

“Is that right, babes?” murmured the Golden Goose, trying to ignore the warm, excited puckering of her own nipples as the doctor expertly massaged her tits. “How do you work that one out?”

“We are, in our way”, said the Bad Doctor, squeezing one of the hefty jugs and observing the heroine bite her lip with pleasure, “each advancing the cause of science. You probably have as much unprotected sex as any woman in the United Kingdom today conceivably could. I ran your bloodwork a few weeks ago, Golden Goose. The sheer amount of experimental contraceptives, immune boosters, and antiretrovirals you take to avoid pregnancy and the clap massively exceeds any safe medical limit. Frankly, I’m impressed.”

“How the hell did you get a sample of my blood, Spendlove… OOOH!”

Flicking his thumb across the stiff nub of the Golden Goose’s nipple, the doctor shrugged.

“It was simple enough. You’re a whore in a mask, Golden Goose, and it’s genuinely difficult to find a single raised surface in Gruntham which doesn’t have your DNA smeared all over it. Tell me, does that imbecile ‘Doctor’ Cruise give you a rota for servicing his lackeys, or do you just drop your knickers whenever you see an erection?”

The Golden Goose paused and shifted uncomfortably in her bonds. As the Bad Doctor teased her nubs, a delicious heat was building up between her thighs, moistening the tiny golden triangle of her gusset. She took a deep breath, pushing out her heaving chest for the doctor’s evil caress.

“Ok, fair cop, Spendlove, but… oooh… what do you expect… I love cum and the Good Doctor’s lads just love to give it to me… I just can’t help myself…”

“Indeed.”, leered the Bad Doctor, tipping his hand and watching the Golden Goose’s boobs gently collide and tremble atop her round stomach. “My findings indicate that your course of medication has significantly altered your body chemistry and hormonal balance. Doubtless that explains your outrageous weight gain and rampant promiscuity.”

The Bad Doctor’s probing hand dropped to the Golden Goose’s ample belly and began to knead her tender flesh as she wriggled in her bonds.

“Yeah, you’re a genius, Doctor... uhhh… oooh…”, she smirked, feeling the shiver of goosebumps rising on her skin. “Needed to run… a bunch of top shelf diagnostics… to find out… aah… how I like a pie and a pint and a snog behind the bike sheds. Really fucking empirical, babes.”

The Doctor gently eased his finger into the Golden Goose’s tender belly button and began to gently pump it in and out of the soft recess. The blonde moaned and shivered from head to toe, her glossy pink lips parting in ecstasy. The silver bell dangling from a fine chain on her navel tinkled as every inch of her quivered and bounced.

“You’re actually enjoying this, aren’t you?”, he hissed into her ear. “Parading around this bloated gut through the most devastating obesity epidemic in human history?”

“You’re fucking right I am, Spendlove,” panted the heroine, “I fucking love it… I love having the fattest arse in town… and the thicker I get… ahh… the more your boys seem to like it…” The Golden Goose arched her back and began to gyrate her hips, shimmying her soft tanned rump for the Bad Doctor’s hidden minions. “That’s right, isn’t it, lads?”, she grinned into the shadows. “We like a bit of jiggle, yeah?”

Out in the dark, someone wolf whistled.

“Drop it low, Goose”, said a voice from the shadows.

“Leave it out, Kevin.” said another.

“So…” said the Bad Doctor. “You really have become the perfect vessel for my plan…”

“I was… oooOOOH…” the Golden Goose moaned as she savoured the scratching sensation of his fingers and felt the clinging, damp cloth of her distractingly tight golden bottoms chafe against her labia. “I was hoping this basically was your plan… aaahh… but I’m open… to suggestions.”

“Oh, no, Goose…” said the Bad Doctor, withdrawing his finger from her pillowy stomach.

The heroine gasped and pouted with disappointment. She wiggled her hips and rang her bell to tempt him back.

“I’m not like the other villains in this town.” Hissed Spendlove. “One bad turn deserves another. I know you lost me the Civic Centre. I will have my revenge.”

The Bad Doctor snapped his fingers and his hulking henchmen moved out of the darkness. The Golden Goose squeaked with delight as four muscled Relentless Boys lifted her off her feet, supporting her quivering back and parting her chubby thighs.

“Oh Doctor, I never thought you had it in you!”, she gasped. “I always wondered when you’d finally take me… Lads, I’ve got a bit of a cameltoe situation down here, can you just get that…”

One of the Golden Goose’s captors obediently started to peel her overstretched thong away from the heroine’s sopping wet mons. His hands trembling, Waxy Stan fumbled with his belt buckle and tried to lift his cock into position, rubbing the underside of her thigh with the hot spongy head of his glans.

“I’ll get her warmed up for you, Doctor, this slag’s gagging for it!” He yelped.

“Don’t you DARE touch her without permission, you fool! PEANUTS!” Roared Spendlove.

The Bad Doctor lunged at Stan with a disposable medical sharp, scratching him. The henchman clutched at his wounded bicep, shaking like a leaf.

“But… but doctor... my allergies…”

“Will never get in my way again.” Said Spendlove, gripping Stan by the hair as the young man’s throat closed up, his face swelled like a souffle and anaphylactic shock set in. “Die, Stanley. Die like the evolutionary dead end you are. I’ll make sure your mother compensates me for lost earnings.”

With a final choking gurgle, Waxy Stan died there on the concrete floor.

“The GMC was right…” said the Golden Goose in disgust. “You are proper mad.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have said that” winced Shaun the Muppet from behind the heroine’s other thigh.

All the blood drained from the Bad Doctor’s face.

“THE GMC?” he thundered, “What the HELL would they know? Bureaucrats and retirees! Almost as bad as the FUCKING epidemiologists!”*

Teeth grinding, clawing at the air, Emeric Spendlove M.D. rampaged around the concrete chamber, kicking at chairs and walls and minions in a blind fury. Glass shattered and metal tinkled as he flipped his table of medical tools.

“SIR Chris and SIR Jonathan and all those Covid MASTERMINDS turning the population autistic with their filthy vaccines when MY redundant lung implantation procedure would have saved MILLIONS of lives! BILLIONS!”

“That’s not what they said at the tribunal though, is it Spendlove?” said the Golden Goose. “What was it they called your Frankenstein shit? ‘An ethical abomination, morbidly conceived and wretchedly executed?’ Something like that?”

“Exactly that, you eidetic BITCH!” screamed the Bad Doctor. “No vision, ANY OF THEM! With the correct Wim Hof breathing techniques, it would have WORKED! What kind of medical ethics board sacks the most TALENTED surgeon in the Sleetside NHS Community Healthcare Trust in the grip of a fucking PLAGUE?”

“You were harvesting organs from intensive care patients, you prick!” yelled the Golden Goose. “They weren’t even dead!”

“They would have died sooner or later!” howled the fallen physician. “Why do you think we sent all the infectious patients out into the care homes? God’s triage! The whole country clapped and cheered us on Thursday nights! They called us HEROES!”

“You were heroes, Spendlove.” Said the Golden Goose quietly. “All of you. But heroes keep going when the applause stops and that wasn’t enough for you, though, was it?”

The Bad Doctor threw back his head and let out a wordless, primal scream. The entire room stood still as his breath died away. Hunching his shoulders, Doctor Spendlove turned and thumped his head on the glass surface of the tank.

There was a silence.

“We believe in you, Doctor.” said Shaun the Muppet timidly.

The Bad Doctor banged his head against the glass tank again and swallowed a sob. The Golden Goose looked around at the morose expressions on the faces of the drug dealers who held her tight.

“Ah-yippie-yi-ooh, ah-yippie-yi-yeah” murmured Tommy Tanner, with Gregorian solemnity. “Ah-yippie-yi-ooh-ah.”

In gruff, off-key voices, the Relentless Boys broke into a halting rendition of Aqua’s 1997 hit single ‘Doctor Jones’.

The song rang out from two dozen dehydrated throats, and The Bad Doctor seemed to draw energy from the classic dance track. He straightened up, mopped the cold sweat from his brow and neck with a tissue, and turned back to the Golden Goose with a snarl on his lips.

As the gangsters reached the repeated chorus of “Please, please cure me.” Spendlove raised his hand for silence.

“The Doctor is in, Boys.” He said, his eyes staring over their heads toward a high and lonely destiny. “None shall stand in his way. And none can escape HIS VENGEANCE!”

“DOCTOR! DOCTOR! DOCTOR!” chanted the Relentless Boys together.

“Now.” Said the Bad Doctor. “Ben. The Inseminator, please. For our guest.”

Terminal Ben, a wall of muscle with Popeye forearms, carried a glass and steel medical instrument out of the darkness. With a bow, he placed it in Spendlove’s hand. The device was shaped like a caulking gun, with a pistol grip and a shaft - or barrel - shaped like a densely ribbed dildo. Clear plastic tubes ran to a reservoir of dark, viscous fluid.

“What… what the hell is that?” said the Golden Goose.

The Bad Doctor pulled a spring-loaded bolt on the instrument back with a click and looked up at the struggling blonde with a cold smile.

“I created this device just for you, Golden Goose. The payload would be much more satisfying if delivered in vivo, but I’m not sure if even your capacious womb could accommodate the, er, member this was supposed to spurt out of.”

“So that’s… that’s someone’s cum?” the blonde stammered, her puffy lips trembling, “why… why am I not getting this the old-fashioned way, Spendlove?

The Bad Doctor’s smile grew wider as he stood silhouetted against the shimmering blue glass surface of the tank.

Then, in the murky water beyond, something moved.

The Golden Goose yelped and squirmed and kicked. She was unable to take her eyes off the enormous pale tentacle… or tendril… that slowly brushed across the surface of the tank. As she stared, other tentacles began to reach out of the blue haze. Desperately, she tried to close her thighs, but the Relentless Boys held her fast and the Bad Doctor grinned down at her puffy, yawning snatch with self-satisfied contempt.

The heroine’s eyes never left the prying, searching tentacles trapped behind the glass,

“Doctor, what… what are you going to put inside me?”

Spendlove extended a latex-sheathed fingertip and gently brushed against the Golden Goose’s pink, exposed clitoris. The heroine stiffened from head to toe and tried to swallow a moan. Spendlove brushed over the quivering love button again, and despite her thrashing attempts to close her thighs, the Golden Goose was unable to hide the feminine ejaculate which began to glisten in her cunt once more.

And in the background, the thing continued to unfurl tentacle after tentacle, slowly heaving its squirming central mass up out of the murky depths of the tank. A deep purr like the sound of a pneumatic drill a few streets away began to rumble through the chamber.

As he spoke, the Bad Doctor continued to tease the blonde vigilante’s defenceless vulva until she was forced to tear her eyes away from the creature in the tank and look imploringly up at him.

“A rare and endangered lifeform, Golden Goose. They normally spawn around deep ocean volcanoes and they live entirely off thermal energy. Out of the water, their eggs need somewhere hot and wet to fully mature, and my correspondents overseas tell me that the most reliable place to incubate them is the well-stretched cunt of a slutty superheroine. Of which I think we have established you are the nearest, if not the finest, specimen available.”

“EGGS?” gasped the Golden Goose. “You’re… you’re going to IMPREGNATE me?”

Breath quickening, the blonde felt an eager heat rise in her womb as the Bad Doctor tickled a gloved fingertip around her nether lips. Flicking a switch on the Inseminator, the dildo applicator began to vibrate.

“I estimate your uterine walls will foster fifty to a hundred embryos in this cycle.” Said Spendlove.

“You’re going to force me to carry hundreds of those disgusting things inside me… squirming and… and growing!”

The Doctor nuzzled the supple head of the Inseminator against the sensitive petals of the heroine’s vulva and smiled coldly as she opened herself, wet and willing, for the vibrating shaft.

“And if you survive the delivery,” he said, “I shall fertilise you again and again for as long as you continue to provide useful data.”

“I’ll be helpless…” the Golden Goose wailed, “just a walking incubator, ripe and swollen with the seed you pump into me...”

“I can’t think of a more qualified test subject.” Leered the Bad Doctor, slipping the Inseminator into the heroine’s dripping cunt.

“OOOH YES DOCTOR!” moaned the Golden Goose, as she felt the Inseminator tingle and throb against her vaginal walls. “I’m so READY for this! Please… PLEASE…”

“The Goose is ours, gentlemen.” Cackled Doctor Spendlove in triumph, as he pulled the trigger, flooding the heroine’s womb with cold black alien semen.

The Golden Goose’s shocked scream, the cheers of the Relentless Boys and the rumbling, purring percussion of the creature in the tank all combined together in a hellish crescendo.

***

Karen Roth, owner-editor of the Daily Grind, watched her smartphone vibrate ominously across the desk towards her. It was Tanya. Her ace reporter. Luscious, perky Tanya. Irrepressible Tanya.

Get a hold of yourself, Karen.

The lanky redhead squirmed in her office chair, her toned, powerful thighs clamped together like a vice. She took a deep breath and centred herself.

She tapped the green icon.

“What is it, Titania?” snapped Karen, keeping her American accent stern and clipped.

“We… need to talk, Ms. Roth.” Said Tanya.

Miles apart across the bleak grey concrete landscape of Gruntham-on-Sleet, both women slipped their fingers down between their thighs and began to explore.

“I’m… I’m not going to be able to make it in to work today, Ms Roth.” Murmured Tanya, winding her long pink fingernails into the blonde tangle of her public hair. “I think… I think I caught a nasty, er, virus last night…”

“What kind of symptoms are we talking about here?” said Karen, tracing the smooth triangle of her perfectly-waxed vulva as she enjoyed the chirp of Tanya’s estuary accent down the line.

Lying naked on the red silk topsheet of her Super Queen sized bed, Tanya looked up at the mirrored ceiling as she took in the overnight changes to her body.

“Well… my boobs are feeling really sore for one thing…” said Tanya, delicately cupping and pinching her soft flesh, and wincing at the results. “And my nipples are… they’re getting bigger, Ms Roth. And they’re feeling really stiff and sensitive... Oh!”

Tanya gasped as she accidentally caught the quivering tip of her right breast with an exploratory fingernail and felt a surge of pleasure rush from her chest to her loins. Karen, listening in to her whimpering subordinate, sank down into the leather of her office chair and slipped an eager finger between her moistening labial lips.

“Keep talking, Titania, I need to know every detail.”

“I’m feeling… queasy, too…” said Tanya, rubbing her free hand over the plush swell of her stomach as the other delved deeper into her cunt. Deep within her uterus, a roiling sensation of internal pressure throbbed relentlessly. Her belly, usually pillow-soft from the blonde’s moisturising regimen, was now tight and distended. “Really bloated from last night… my guts are on fire right now.”

“Titania”, breathed the redheaded editor, “I can’t possibly sign you off sick unless I can touch you for myself. Today. You have to come into work like this.”

“Ms Roth, I… I can’t fit into any of my tops right now, I’m just too swollen…” said Tanya, tracing wet circles around her clit.

“Make it work.” Growled Karen, working her index finger deeper into the well of her vagina. “We’ve broken even at the Grind for the first time since I took over and I need my top reporter at the newsdesk.”

There was a pause. With regret, Tanya slipped her slick fingers out of her feminine hothouse.

“I… I hate to bring this up, Ms Roth, but that’s… that’s become a problem too. You never ran my piece on Danderville Oil. You know? And the earthquake that destroyed Ogdenville, New Mexico?”

“I told you, Titania, we’ll cover the story comprehensively when the Trenton One rig comes online. I’ve got Nigel covering Danderville’s community service contributions all over Sleetside. You know they’re sponsoring a whole litter of orphaned kittens at the Swellage Euthanasia Centre?”

Tanya sighed. She really hadn’t wanted to do this today.

“I know why you’re sitting on the story, Ms Roth. The Golden Goose told me you’ve got history with Tex Danderville. She told me you’ve done this for his fracking projects before. It’s pretty standard ‘catch and kill’, yeah?”

Karen froze in her seat, skirt and tights pulled halfway down her well-toned thighs. Her coffee, long-forgotten, sat cold on the desk.

“T… Titania, I… I don’t know what the Golden Goose told you, but…”

“Oh, she told me a lot. She said you were really rough with her too. And normally she likes that. So I was surprised.”

Desperately, Karen stirred around in her cunt, clutching her thighs together and trying to reignite the spark.

“This is a misunderstanding. I can explain… everything. Ok, yeah, I’ve got a past. I’ve done a lot of things I’m not proud of… and sometimes my instincts are… a little off. I admit it. I just… this will all make so much more sense when you put those big… sore titties of yours in my hands… I promise I’ll be gentle, ok?”

Tanya bit her lip and swallowed as she cupped her breasts defensively.

“I need some time to think, Ms Roth.”

“Think? About what?”

“About a lot of things, alright? About, like, integrity. About the public interest. Maybe about that job offer from Reuters.”

“Reuters? Again? Don’t you dare even think…”

Tanya ended the call.

Karen, overbalancing in the leather swivel chair, crashed to the floor of the Daily Grind in a 20 denier tangle.

On the other side of town, Tanya, sighing with frustration, gently massaged her blossoming abdomen and felt the heat radiating from her womb. On the ceiling, her reflection continued to swell.

Part 2: Mother Goose

“Jerry, I won’t be coming home tonight.”, said Mayor Lola Muirhead, as she slipped a blue silk stocking up her creamy thigh.

“Very good, dear,” said Gerald ‘Jerry’ Muirhead.

As darkness fell over the rolling Capability Brown landscape of the Bolmondely Estate, Jerry sat tabbing feverishly between OnlyFans and the latest electoral polling numbers. Meanwhile, his wife squeezed her ripe, voluptuous curves into the blue lingerie costume of the Golden Goose’s trusty sidekick True Blue.

“I’ll be taking out the new Landy as well. The blue one with the tinted windows.”

“I told you, dear.” Said Jerry, “That gardener’s been stealing the fertiliser. The state of the petunias this spring.”

“I’m leading a double life, Jerry.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Lola, just make sure you invoice them for the missing bags!”

Lola rolled her eyes as her husband lunged inexpertly at the half-empty bottle of Bell’s Whisky on his glass desktop. The bottle spun off and shattered on the hardwood floor. Jerry cursed without tearing his eyes from the gyrating teenagers on his monitor.

In the hallway mirror, True Blue fixed on her cats-eye domino mask. A thin lanyard of pearls dangled from either end of the mask, meeting at the back of her long snow-white neck. Her chocolate-brown hair was neatly cut back into a severe bob. The brunette’s strong bones and superbly maintained skin had kept her looks enchanting as she entered her late forties, even as age and comfort had rounded out the rest of her buxom hourglass figure. The elaborate floral lace of her bra curled lovingly around her gently sagging breasts, lifting and shaping the delicate mounds into a well of pale cleavage. Her equally lacy blue knickers wrapped tightly around her broad hips and held back the swell of her prominent backside. Just an inch or so of her buttocks hung out of her underwear and her stockings rose up to where lacy elastic garters held them fast around her well-fed matronly thighs.

Before her alliance with the Golden Goose, Lola Muirhead would never have dreamed of exposing herself to Gruntham-on-Sleet’s criminal element like this, but the stout blonde’s brazen assets and exhibitionist costumes had given her such a thrill that she simply had to throw herself into the groping hands of the vigilante trade herself.

Slipping on her four-inch blue patent leather stilettos, True Blue sashayed out into the starlit night.

***

The labyrinthine concrete walls of the Bankside Industrial Estate blocked out all but the most determined stars overhead.

“Goose!” Exclaimed True Blue, “What on earth has happened to you?”

“Babes, if I’d known being knocked up felt this good, I’d have let it happen years ago.” Said the Golden Goose.

True Blue bit her lip. The ordinarily plump and buxom Golden Goose had rounded out beyond all reason. The blonde’s womb, invaded by The Bad Doctor, had swollen into a nine-month pregnancy bump in just a few days. Her tightly stretched, gravid belly now bobbed in front of her, and the heroine rubbed her pink-nailed hands protectively over her burden as True Blue examined her partner’s physical changes.

The Golden Goose’s, tawny, spray-tanned breasts sagged heavily onto the round swell of her stomach. Each was now noticeably larger than her head. Her nipples had thickened and darkened and now stuck out erect like sore thumbs. As True Blue rubbed her finger over the trembling tip of one boob, a tiny drop of milk formed and ran down the underside of the Golden Goose’s enlarged tits.

“No wonder you’ve gone topless, Goosie darling, these look terribly sore.”

“Oh, don’t, Blue…” moaned the Golden Goose, “I can’t even touch them without setting off a leak.”

True Blue made a mental note and circled her partner.

“My god, your hips are even wider!”

“Dr Spendlove said my hormones are going into overdrive”, said The Golden Goose with a proud smile as True Blue gently pinched the jiggling flesh of her enormous rump. “I’m sensitive everywhere. It feels amazing, babes… I’m on fire!”

The curvaceous brunette ignored the faint scratch of envy at the back of her mind as she slipped a hand down to the Golden Goose’s snatch. True Blue’s eyes went wide as she felt the slick, quivering flesh of her partner’s hugely inflamed labia. The blonde moaned and bucked, squirting gouts of feminine lubricant onto True Blue’s hand as the older heroine delved deeper and eventually found the gusset of the Golden Goose’s thong where it rubbed ceaselessly against the heroine’s most sensitive spots.

“Goose, you’re too loved up for this”, said True Blue. “If we get into any danger at all you’ll be…”

“I’ll be completely helpless, Blue. they’ll catch me easily and smack around my poor preggo body… and they’ll fuck us non-stop until we beg to be their slaves. Won’t it be awful?”

The Golden Goose licked her lips and held True Blue’s gaze for a long moment while the two panted in the chilly night air.

“Alright, you’ve sold me.” said True Blue. “Where’s the deal taking place?”

“In there”, motioned the Golden Goose to a nondescript industrial unit with a rusty steel shutter over the shopfront and broken windows. “We’ve still got time to set up. Did the new gear arrive?”

True Blue smiled and traced a complacent finger down the soft white canyon of her own cleavage and popped the boot of the Land Rover. Inside were two matching sets of hers & hers bondage gear, gold and metallic blue. The yellow electric light gleamed off polished metal cuffs and chains, and glistened on freshly oiled leather straps.

“Oooh…” cooed the Golden Goose, her eyes shining with anticipation.

“Quite.” Said True Blue.

***

The Dingo’s thumb nervously rubbed over the grip of his Glock 18. Flying solo wasn’t the Australian mercenary’s preferred MO but Tex Danderville badly needed his good friend Charlie, so that’s how it had to be. The faint tobacco scent of the abandoned Dublin Jack cigarette factory wafted through the air like the ghost of vices past.

Alexandro “El Gringófilo” was the first to step into the circle of light. A stocky 5’ 10”, the Columbian had picked up a couple more facial scars since The Dingo had seen him last and was as cocksure as ever, a chrome-plated Mk VII Desert Eagle clearly visible in the shoulder holster beneath his suede jacket.

Both men held stainless steel briefcases.

“Bloody hell, Alex.” Said The Dingo. “Am I glad to see you.”

“I have your shipment as promised, direct from Las Culebras Cartageneras.” Said Alexandro. “100% pure. My compliments as ever to your employer.”

“That’s fantastic, but realistically what is that, ten kilos?”

“Fifteen, Dingo. You are a trusted dealer.”

“Mate, that’s barely a month’s supply for old man Danderville. The bloke is an absolute fiend. I need regular flow here.”***

El Gringófilo smiled broadly, an African conflict diamond gleaming in his teeth.

“Given the high regard in which the cartels have always held Danderville Oil, I could set you up as a wholesale customer if you are able to neutralise your local gangs.”

The Dingo scratched thoughtfully where his crewcut blended with his thick neck.

“We’ve been planning an op like that for a few weeks…” he said. “I’ll have to run it past Molosse though…”

“Then I will take my payment”, said Alexandro curtly, placing his briefcase on the ground, “and leave you to finish your plans…”

The Dingo hesitantly laid down his own briefcase.

“Alright, fine… just… one thing you should know…”

“HELP!”, cried a distraught female voice from out of the darkness. “Oh, someone, please help us!”

“What the fuck is this?” said Alexandro with a dangerously cocked eyebrow.

The clatter of high heels and jingling bells echoed at the darkened end of the shop floor and the Dingo readied himself for things to go off-script.

The Golden Goose and True Blue, plastered in industrial grime, tottered unsteadily into the light on thigh-high 8-inch platform heels. Their necks were clamped in heavy gold and blue leather collars, linked by a three-foot gold chain which kept the heroines jostling and tugging each other together. Both vigilantes were topless, with clamps cruelly pinching their sensitive nipples. Each clamp kept an appropriately colour-coded bell bouncing at the end of each bountiful boob, ensuring the heroines’ unsteady approach could be easily heard in the dark. Both women’s hands were bound fast behind their backs with metallic cuffs. The Golden Goose’s tiny g-string and True Blue’s lacy knickers were both tightly bunched around their knees, hobbling the heroines’ steps. True Blue’s exposed womanhood was pink and puffy and surrounded by a neat triangle of dark pubic hair. Any sight of the much shorter Golden Goose’s enlarged nether lips were blocked entirely the huge sagging swell of her pregnant stomach.

“Oh, thank God.” Gasped True Blue. “We only just managed to escape from those awful teenagers!”

“Ladies!” said the nonplussed Dingo. “We, er, weren’t expecting you.”

“Please protect us, lads…” panted the Golden Goose. “We’ve just been chased all around the estate…”

As the Sleetside Specials staggered into the light, the Dingo saw the source of their whimpering; both heroine’s bottoms were spanked red raw.

“Our new costumes were supposed to be inspirational…” whimpered True Blue, “but they seem to have gotten the wrong idea…”

“Oh.” Said the Dingo. “So you went out looking like that?”

“Of course!” said the Golden Goose. “We’re chained together to show we’re an inseparable team!”

“But who the hell handcuffed you?”

“We did!” said True Blue. “To show that we’re unafraid of Gruntham’s criminals! And the bells symbolise that honest citizens have nothing to fear from us!”

The two heroines shimmied their shoulders to demonstrate, shaking boobs and bells deliciously.

“But all the street dealers have just been laughing at us and groping us all night and we’ve been totally defenceless.” Said the Golden Goose despondently.

“Dingo, these two prostitutes have seen my face.” Said Alexandro grimly.

“Oh… you’ve got this all wrong, mate.” Spluttered The Dingo. “These aren’t hookers, mate, they’re… well… they call themselves heroines but they pretty much just suck and fuck all the local criminals non-stop.”

“That’s not fair, Dingo.” Pouted the Golden Goose, “Remember last month when we helped you out with that International Breast Inspector bloke from OPEC?”

“The Sheikh had such cold hands”, shuddered True Blue.

“The local gangs just keep them around for entertainment, Alex.” said The Dingo. “They’re basically groupies.”

“Entertainment?” gasped True Blue.

“They’re going to ravish us, Blue!” moaned the Golden Goose.

“Oh, no, take me,” pleaded True Blue, “Goosie’s expecting and she’s much too fragile.”

“I’m so delicate.” Sighed the Golden Goose. “And my tits are so full…”

“See what I mean…” said The Dingo, staring mesmerised at the quivering heroines. “Completely docile.”

“Perros locos e los Ingleses, I suppose.” Said Alexandro.

“A lady is merely excéntrica, Señor.” Sniffed True Blue.

Alexandro felt a smile creep across his lips.

“You should really get those cans of yours looked at, Goose.” Said The Dingo, pushing a mocking finger into the blonde heroine’s engorged left jug.

“OOOOH…” Moaned the Golden Goose as she reflexively shrank away from the mercenary’s touch and bumped into the soft body of True Blue. Despite the roiling ache in her breasts, the cruel teeth of her nipple clamp prevented the spray-tanned heroine from getting any relief.

“Please be gentler with her!” chided True Blue. “She hasn’t been properly milked today!”

“The Golden Goose is a big girl”, said The Dingo. “She can hold it in for a little longer.”

He roughly poked the blonde heroine’s other breast and cackled as she squawked, trying and failing to retreat again.

“This girl looks pregnant, Dingo.” Said Alexandro. “She will have health problems if she is not regularly milked.”

“Did you hear that, Goose?” said True Blue. “Someone else understands dairy farming.”

“Oh, please, Dingo…” begged the Golden Goose, ringing her bells with a bounce of her swollen breasts. “Please milk me… Rough as you like… I’m too sensitive to do it myself…”

By this point the Dingo’s cock was a burning log of desire tenting out the front of his fatigue trousers. He pounced on the Golden Goose who squealed and wriggled fruitlessly in his arms.

True Blue, straining to keep her balance as the Golden Goose yanked her chain, found her pale, slender arms being caressed by “El Gringófilo”. The cartel agent leaned in to breathe in her ear and rubbed his own meaty bulge up against the trembling pink underside of her severely punished bottom.

“Alright, Senora, while The Dingo plays with gordita rubia perhaps we can pass the time inside... oh. What’s this?”

Alexandro, grinding his crotch between the soft sagging pillows of True Blue’s rump, encountered a hard obstacle. The brunette gasped as his fingers reached down to brush the hard smooth sapphire blockage inside her anus.

“Oh… Goosie and I have matching plugs”, breathed True Blue. “They symbolise… er… our discretion. Do whatever you want to us… and we’ll never tell a soul.”

Alexandro fumbled with his fly as True Blue and the Golden Goose were turned to face one another, the heavy gold chain linking their collars going slack at last. The Golden Goose moaned and struggled as her tormented breasts were bounced off her partner’s drooping assets and the bells clashed discordantly.

With their hands still cuffed behind them, the two were unable to do any more than whimper expectantly as their breasts rubbed and jostled together.

“Be brave, Goose”, murmured True Blue, planting a delicate kiss on the blonde’s pink collagen lips.

“We should do this every week, babes.” Breathed the Golden Goose, returning the kiss tenderly.

Then, both heroines cried out with joy as their studs got to work.

Alexandro thrust his hot, firm, smoothly conical penis into True Blue’s wet love tunnel. She gripped and squeezed his length with gusto, tossing her grimy brown bob and moaning with pleasure as he started to pump with short, sharp thrusts.

The Golden Goose let out a cry as The Dingo released the spiteful grip of her nipple clamps. The twin bells rang out one last time as they hit the concrete floor. The blonde struggled with the panicked urgency of a caught rabbit as the mercenary hefted her enormous, sensitive mammaries in his broad, hairy hands.

“Uuuuuh.. Aaah… I think you’re going to get a little wet, Blue.”

“Oh… oooooh…” groaned True Blue. “Get me wet… Get me as wet as you can…”

“You two should really get a room”, sniggered the Dingo.

“We’ve got one, actu… AAAAAAAH!!” Cried the Golden Goose as The Dingo mashed her swollen tits with his thick fingers. Thick jets of milk sprayed over True Blue and both heroines revelled in the pleasure of the moment.

The Dingo squeezed the Golden Goose’s breasts alternately, giving her no room to breathe as he splattered the floor of the abandoned factory with her precious bounty. The blonde vigilante thrashed and struggled in the mercenary’s arms as she felt her milk gushing out of her thick nipples in a torrent. His erection still trapped inside his uniform, The Dingo’s hips clapped into The Golden Goose’s own colossal caboose, sending ripples of motion through the jiggling cellulite pillows.

“Harder, Dingo…” gasped the Golden Goose “Please squeeze me HARDER… wring me OUT, babes…”

“Oh, sir…” panted True Blue as Alexandro pushed deep into her cunt, flicking over her g-spot like a jolt of lightning. “Oh, SIR!”

With a sudden rictus tension and a sharp two-way tug on their collar-chain, the Sleetside Specials climaxed simultaneously, shuddering and moaning and squirting feminine lust from their cunts. Alexandro came a moment later, as True Blue’s vaginal walls closed lovingly around him. His calloused fingertips digging into the brunette’s motherly hips, he felt the trigger surge of pleasure at the base of his cock and pumped his sticky load deep into the softly rounded heroine.

“Ooooh…” said True Blue, as Alexandro continued to gently buck his hips to draw out the last moment of pleasure. “That’s really quite lovely…”

“Hang on…” said the Dingo, still methodically milking the Golden Goose’s tender tits, “I haven’t gotten off yet.”

“Uh… uuuuh…” groaned the Golden Goose as the Australian’s fingers dug deeper and deeper into her sore boobs and her squirts of milk reduced. “If you want, Dingo love… you can give it a rest and fuck me.”

“No he can’t, Goosie,” said True Blue, her hair absolutely soaked with milk, which ran in sticky rivers down her body. “You have to be properly drained so those udders of yours stay healthy and get bigger and more productive.”

“That’s right, love.” Growled the Dingo into the Golden Goose’s ear as he crushed her slackening breasts in his palms. “These funbags are my fucking punching bags until we get EVERY. LAST. DROP. OUT.”

“UUUGH… AAAH!!!” bawled the Golden Goose as The Dingo brutalised the last dribble of milk out of her mammaries.

Alexandro pulled out of True Blue’s slick cunt and the sated brunette heroine turned to pull him into a wet French-kiss, made wetter by the milk dripping off her.

“Thank you”, she moaned into the smirking cartel agent’s ear “And we won’t breathe a word about your little private cocaine deal.”

El Gringófilo jumped back from True Blue as if he had been bitten. With a sudden nervous energy he pulled out his Desert Eagle and pointed it directly at the other three.

“They know, Dingo! They heard us. I don’t like this. At all.”

The Dingo, gloating over the Golden Goose’s now-slack breasts, looked around in confusion.

“What the fuck is it, mate?”

“Step away from the girl, Dingo.”

The Dingo slowly edged away from the Sleetside Specials and glanced around in bewilderment to locate the all-important briefcases. Exhausted, the Golden Goose folded at her thong-constricted knees, dragging True Blue down with her by their connecting chain. With a clatter, the heroines collapsed in a pile of squirming legs and heaving bosoms.

The Golden Goose began to tremble at a new, disturbing tempo.

“Goose, are you alright?” said True Blue.

“I think it’s coming…” murmured the blonde.

“You almost had me, Dingo”, hissed Alexandro, his Desert Eagle unwaveringly trained on the Specials. “And this was quite diverting. But we need to dispose of these two.”

The Dingo drew his Glock and flipped off the safety catch.

“I told you I am not starting a shooting war today. Be smart, Alex. If we kill the mascots what do you think the local team is gonna do to me? I mean to us?”

The Golden Goose started to make a high, keening noise. Her thighs splayed open and her belly heaving, the russet-tanned vigilante arched her back and braced for a round of heavy contractions. Murmuring with concern and unable to assist with her arms pinned, True Blue began to kiss and lick her partner’s strawberry-red, dripping-wet twat.

Alexandro and The Dingo felt their gun arms go slack as the Golden Goose started to birth a clutch of glossy purple eggs. Straining and gasping, the bouffant puff of the heroine’s hair deflated into a sweaty thatch as she popped out one flexible gelatinous sac after another.

True Blue gasped with sympathy as The Golden Goose struggled to squeeze out each egg. Spotting the bright, glossy red button of the heroine’s clit bobbing exposed and sore at the apex of her cunt, the brunette gave it a soothing kiss.

“OOOHH BLUE YOU LEGEEEND!” squealed the Golden Goose, her hips bucking as she squirted out five eggs in a single gush. “MOOORE!”

True Blue continued to lavish lips and tongue on the Golden Goose’s clit as the heroine rapidly laid her last few eggs in an explosion of musky juice. The tawny-tinted heroine wrapped her thighs around her partner’s neck, pulling the brunette’s lips into a passionate French kiss with her exhausted, inflamed snatch. The shackled vigilantes groaned together blissfully.

In a wet, slimy heap next to the Specials, the purple eggs began to visibly throb.

“Dingo…” said Alexandro, throat dry and voice hoarse. “There are things a man learns when he has been in this business too long.”

“Like what, mate?”

“When a busty heroine in a mask births a clutch of eggs, it is time to run. Grab a briefcase. Run.”

“I… I lost track of which one’s which!”

“It doesn’t matter. We can just…”

There was a wet crack as a pale violet tendril pushed through the surface of the topmost egg and began to probe the dusty air. Shrieking, Alexandro turned and sprinted for the factory door. The Dingo, equally panicked, began to back away, torn between the two gleaming briefcases and the horrific scene only a few inches from them.

The first tendril extended, thin and tremulous, until it grazed the hot, rippling thigh of the Golden Goose. Immediately, the wispy violet appendage swelled into a thick tentacle. The topmost egg burst open and the mass of pink tendrils whipped out to seize the Golden Goose by her thigh, her ankle, and the damp rags of her thong. The other eggs began to pulsate and split just as quickly, a pile of waving, seeking tendrils reaching out for heat and life.

The blonde heroine gasped and tried to struggle away from the surging, writhing mass of heat-seeking tentacles which was quickly enveloping her leg.

“Blue, MOVE!”, she squeaked, kicking her partner away as she wriggled and twisted, trying and failing to get purchase in her overstacked platform heels.

“Oh, fucking hell!” exclaimed True Blue, flinching away from the twisting ropes of thickening, darkening tentacles.

Tendrils began to snake out across the concrete floor toward True Blue and the Dingo. The Dingo snapped and sprinted for the exit empty-handed.

“I’ll be sending you the bill for this, ladies!” he shouted from a safe distance before fleeing into the night.

Tentacles now snaked up both of The Golden Goose’s legs and began to explore the heroine’s luscious hips and gaping vulva. Gasping at yet another round of warm, sloppy attention in her most sensitive spot that night, The Golden Goose managed to get her neck rested on the edge of one of the steel briefcases. With an effort, she rubbed her collar against the hard surface until she found the safety release.

“Blue…” she said plaintively. “You’ve got to run… these things are just like Spendlove’s monster… they want heat and somewhere to breed… babes, they want me!”

“Don’t you dare push that safety catch, Goose.” Scolded True Blue, extending a long, milky-white leg toward the writhing tentacle mass, “I meant what I said. We’re an inseparable team, and if that means… OH!”

A thick vascular tentacle wrapped round the ankle of True Blue’s kinky boot and swelled instantly into a purple vice grip. The brunette found herself yanked to the ground parallel with her partner as both were swiftly sucked into the writhing mass. Tentacles wrapped up their arms and circled their sore breasts.

Every touch from their writhing purple captors produced a tingling, warm sensation like being enveloped in damp cotton wool. The heroines shivered as body heat was leached into the squamous monstrosities. As the tentacle creatures filled out, they rumbled and purred with apparent pleasure of their own.

“UUUH…” True Blue moaned as the two vigilantes were intimately explored by the searching digits of the purple creatures. “This is… really an extraordinary feeling… was it like this with the Bad Doctor?”

“Nothing like…” said The Golden Goose. “Ooooh… ooooh no… I could… I could stay here forever...”

“Me… aaaaah… me too…” breathed True Blue.

Gasping and panting, the two heroines felt tentacles gingerly tugging and sucking at their labial channels. Sensing the deep wet heat of their expectant wombs, the tentacles began to redirect heat and fluid there.

Now face-to-face, limbs pinned by ropes of pulsating flesh and quivering bellies exposed, the Golden Goose and True Blue moaned with unabashed pleasure as they felt the tentacles thickening inside them, stretching their inner walls and filling them up.

Purring tentacles started to atrophy at the furthest reaches of the mass. Unnoticed by the Specials, the weakest tentacle monsters swiftly scuttled away from the melee and wriggled across the factory floor to hide under the abandoned machinery.

Heavy, fecund bulges formed at the plundered entries of the heroine’s vaginas and both the blonde and the brunette whimpered with anticipation as their doom approached.

True Blue’s brown eyes met the Golden Goose’s blue. Stretching their necks, their moist lips brushed, sharing a tender kiss before every tentacle which wrapped them stiffened into a hard mass and began to pump the globs of seminal fluid into the heroine’s wombs.

“OOOH Yeeees…. Ooooh. Ooooh…” moaned The Golden Goose, in orgasmic pleasure yet again as she felt her hungry womanhood expand and bulge with a familiar weight.

“Uh… oh, my… oh, please…” panted True Blue as she too was flooded with tentacle ooze.

Exhausted, the two vigilantes snuggled together on the bed of ossifying tentacles, as sleep stole over them and new life blossomed within.

***

An hour later, The Bad Doctor watched with a twisted smile on his lips as the Relentless Boys gently loaded the dozing, heavily pregnant Sleetside Specials into an unmarked grey van. Chloroform pads taped over their noses and mouths, the heroines were dead to the world.

Deeper in the factory, there was an electric crackle as the Relentless Boys tried to winkle out the remaining tentacle beasts with cattle prods.

“How long do we have?” He asked his skulking minions.

“Plenty of time, Doctor.” Rasped Terminal Ben. “Cruise and his blokes have locked down all the major routes out of town, but they’re not looking for us.”

“Interesting.” Said The Bad Doctor. “Let’s move Make sure you get plenty of photos of the Golden Goose for us to send to the Daily Grind. The people of this town deserve to know their precious heroines’ condition.”

Part 3: Labouring in twilight

“It’s a basic question, Des.” Said Karen Roth testily. “Are these photos real or not?”

Desmond Hambone, the Daily Grind’s staff photographer, scratched his stubble as he tried to get comfortable in his chair opposite the boss. Broad-shouldered and grizzled from a life at the coal face of Fleet Street, his semi-retirement at the Grind was usually untroubled by editorial.

Flashing across the wall-mounted monitor were image after image of The Golden Goose and True Blue heavily pregnant, bound and in evident distress somewhere in Gruntham-on-Sleet’s derelict storm drainage system.

“Digital manipulation and deepfakes are easy, Karen.” Shrugged Des. “The kids can do anything these days. Might be real, might not be.”

“Incredible. So what do these pictures tell us? The Golden Goose and True Blue are third-trimester pregnant, apparently, despite this showing up in no photos for the last six months.”

“Could just be food babies. The Goose is a unit and that other bird looks too old to get up the duff.”

“True Blue is a juicy rack of mutton dressed as a juicy rack of lamb. If she’s getting as much dick as the Golden Goose, it’s… at least plausible she could get knocked up.” Said Karen uncertainly. “Come on, Des, you practically invented the upskirt shot back in the day. Are these photos any good to us?”

Des blew out his cheeks and stared out of the window where a pigeon fought a rat for control of an extractor vent.

“We’ve got to run some new Golden Goose content for Page 3.” He sighed with resignation. “We’ve exhausted the ‘year in review’ and the ‘best of’ and we didn’t actually have a prize lined up for the competition to guess her measurements. The public are furious. Back in the day if we got hot photos like this, we’d just run a piece speculating about the tarty celebrity in question without actually making any factual claims. You know what I mean; ‘controversial images have emerged’ and all that.”

A shadow passed over Karen’s face as she thought the situation through.

“Send me a draft by 1400, Des. Unless Tanya can come up with something better we’ll have to run it.”

Des nervously rubbed tobacco-stained fingers together.

“There’s another possibility, Karen.” He ventured. “What if the Golden Goose really is in the family way and Tanya’s been covering for her all this time? They are mates.”

Karen threw back a mouthful of black coffee.

“I… I don’t think so.” She said. “Tanya’s reports are always extremely candid. She wouldn’t… she would tell me if something was going on.”

Des leaned forward with a pained but avuncular look on his face.

“Karen, I’ve seen this happen before. Blimey, I’ve done it myself! You’re the new boss, you take a shine to a dolly bird in the office and before you know it you can’t keep your hands off her. And with Tanya shaking her norks in here all day, who could blame you?”

“Des, this is not an appropriate conversation.”

“My point is that it always goes wrong. Before you know it they’re climbing that ladder onto other jobs and half-arsing their own work and banging on about child maintenance, and a magistrate takes away your house and car and you’re living alone in a static caravan in Norfolk. Happens every time. That’s how I learned women are poison.”

There was a brief silence as Des nodded sagely at his own advice.

“Present company excepted obviously.” He went on, “But if you’re dead set on being a lezzer, which I’m willing to accept these days, you really need to know this stuff.”

Karen stared at Des in silence. Des stared back. Eventually Des began to pick his teeth with a forefinger.

“Two o’clock for that draft, Des.” Said Karen coldly. “If you see Nigel, tell him I need photographs of these mythical growling tunnel spiders he keeps emailing me about if he wants me to take them seriously.”

***

The sewer system of Gruntham-on-Sleet winds its hollow tendrils deep beneath the roots of the town. Urban planners in the 1950s layered concrete over Victorian brick, itself layered over medieval stone. The resulting network is a warren of filth frequented only by rats and fugitives, known to Gruntham’s criminal underworld as The Runs.

This evening, the gentle lap of surface runoff was broken by the sniggering of Relentless boys and the whimpers of their captives.

“Fascinating.” Said the Bad Doctor. “What a delightful twist of biology.”

The Golden Goose squawked and tried to flinch away as her captor’s bony fingers cupped and squeezed the underside of her hefty, swollen breast. Almost immediately, a stream of thick, creamy milk squirted from her puffy nipple, splashing into the filth of the gully below.

Still helplessly cuffed and chained together, the Golden Goose and True Blue hardly needed restraining. With their lank, grime-encrusted hair clenched tightly in Terminal Ben’s fists, though, the Sleetside Specials strained to keep their backs and straight despite the burdens they now had to carry. Both their bellies were swollen with rapidly-maturing eggs, and the heroines could barely support their own weight on their trembling calves. Each vigilante’s swollen, hot-pink labia puffed out between their thighs, engulfing the ragged strips of cloth just barely identifiable as bikini bottoms which still rubbed and scratched against their slick inner folds. Most dramatically of all, their breasts had inflated with milk, bloated and sagging over the swell of their pregnant stomachs.

True Blue’s lankier body had filled out significantly, her widening hips and swollen breasts now catching up to those of her blonde partner. The Golden Goose, meanwhile, was as round as a spray-tanned beach ball. Dr Spendlove eagerly mauled the blonde’s engorged knockers, which dribbled their sticky contents in a never-ending stream down the heroine’s gravid tummy.

“Doctor… UUUUUH…” gasped the blonde heroine, “Oh Doctor please… Please don’t squeeze so hard… they’re really sore… AAAH!”

Ignoring her whimpered protests, the Bad Doctor beckoned to another of his musclebound assistants. Rodge the Bodge lumbered forward, his smartphone camera raised and a perverted grin on his face. Allowing himself the stiff imitation of a satisfied grin, Spendlove addressed the video, lifting one of the Golden Goose’s leaking tits toward the lens.

“Project Tamatori, Doctor Spendlove recording. The 10^th Breeding Cycle is almost complete and as you we see both the subjects are ready to pop.”

Spendlove raised his index finger and probed at the gaping tip of Golden Goose’s spongy nipple with a dirty fingernail. The Heroine shrieked with the intense sensation and shimmied from side to side, squirting milk with every slosh of her overgrown tits. Spendlove gripped her breast harder to keep it in frame, squeezing out a longer jet of milk and a deep moan of release from the Golden Goose.

“Apparently as a result of the ongoing hormonal changes to their bodies, both subjects continue to lactate and their rate of milk production is increasing. Since the 9^th cycle completed, the Golden Goose’s mammary glands have now increased in size and weight by more than 50%. Excess leakage is now constant. Today we’ll be measuring her overall productivity.”

The Bad Doctor clicked three times on a dog training clicker and Randy Simes brought forward a stack of steel buckets and a low stool. The Golden Goose gasped.

“Ooh… doctor… are the lads going to milk me properly today?”

“We will completely drain both of your breasts, if that’s what you mean.”

“About bloody time….” Said the Golden Goose “It just aches when they’re half-full.”

“Draining you is just going to make you lactate more, Goose!” warned True Blue. “He wants make us both into his breeding cows.”

Spendlove sneered at both heroines and barked a laugh at his henchmen. They grunted vaguely in response.

“Don’t flatter yourselves, ladies. I want my tentacled army. Your bloated udders are just an amusing side-effect.”

He beckoned over Rodge the Bodge and began to examine True Blue as Simes squatted on the stool in front of the quivering Golden Goose and rubbed his hands with sanitiser.

“Oooh yeah…” Whispered the Golden Goose as the muscular teenager gently massaged the blonde’s ponderous mammaries and milk began to trickle down his wrists. “I might make a bit of noise, alright Simes? Just ignore me and be as rough as you like.”

“Oh… er…” said Simes uncertainly, dropping the heroine’s leaking breasts and peering in disgust at the clumps of orange residue on his hands. “What… what the fuck is this?”

The Golden Goose stared down in dismay at the pale handprints on the streaky surface of her boobs.

“That’s… that’s RAL 0505020 ‘Maghreb Sunset’.” She whimpered, her collagen lips quivering with humiliation as her failing spray-tan melted away before her eyes. “And basically the last of my dignity down the drain, babes…”

“Is that all, then?” snickered Simes, seizing the heroine’s blotchy teats around their saucer-sized areolas and squeezing them with enthusiasm.

“UUUWAAAAH!!” howled the Golden Goose as the Relentless Boy mercilessly pumped her tender mammaries and thick creamy gobbets of milk began to splash into the buckets at her feet. The Golden Goose thrust her enormous rump out behind her, bending over her pregnant belly and lowering her teats to a comfortable height for Kevin to maul them. With the full weight of her breasts settled in the palms of the young drug dealer, the Golden Goose’s squeals turned to gasps of satisfaction as the enjoyed the sweet sensation of his firmly kneading hands sinking into her sore flesh.

“Interesting” said the Bad Doctor, squeezing and tweaking True Blue’s inflated hourglass hips and breasts. “Your skin looks fresh and clear despite your age. Possibly some kind of rejuvenating effect of the pregnancy hormones.”

“You cheeky little shit.” gasped True Blue, blushing as Spendlove pinched the soft flesh of her inner thigh where it bulged out between her lacy knickers and even lacier garters. “I do moisturise, you know.”

“Perhaps it’s dietary.” Mused Spendlove, to camera. “Since being released into the Runs, we’ve been feeding our two subjects with an efficient nutrient formula of my own devising.”

He clicked twice with the dog clicker. Vampire Lawrence advanced on True Blue with a canister and a feeding tube.

“Remember… uuuh! Remember to… oooh! Just relax your… throat, Blue!” panted the Golden Goose in a low voice as Kevin continued to wring gouts of milk from her fat nipples.

“I do know how to suppress a gag, thank you Goose,” said True Blue in mild irritation. She obediently opened her mouth and Lawrence slid the soft hose down her delicately spasming throat. Spendlove unscrewed the lid of the canister and poured a greyish-beige soup into the mouth of the funnel.

As True Blue gargled down the contents of the canister, she moaned first with sated hunger, then grunted with surprise, her eyes glancing around wildly to the Golden Goose.

“What… uuuh… is it, Blue?”

True Blue gave a staccato series of grunts and moans. Her blonde partner glared up blearily at the Bad Doctor through a curtain of filthy blonde hair.

“You’ve done something to the feed, haven’t you, you fucking prick.”

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about” said Spendlove, in genuine surprise.

True Blue grunted again as she continued to gulp down the grey fluid.

“She says it’s thinner and… blander than usual?” said the Golden Goose.

“It’s the same formula, damn it!” growled the fallen physician.

Finally, True Blue finished the stream of nutrient gruel and coughed up the clear plastic tube. Her voice thick with the effort of choking down the sticky liquid, she looked at Spendlove in undisguised contempt.

“Good God, Doctor!” the brunette exclaimed. “Was there no spunk in that at all?”

Spendlove’s face flushed.

“There… there is no spunk in the formula!” he exclaimed. “There was never any spunk in the formula!”

“Well that just isn’t true.” Said True Blue. “And I think we of all people would bloody well know the difference.”

The Golden Goose murmured agreement as Kevin’s fingers sank deeper into her quivering breasts to wring out still further reserves of milk.

Rodge the Bodge, huffing out a sigh of regret, stopped filming the rapidly escalating situation and pocketed his smartphone.

“Sorry, girls.” Said Rodge. “We all spaffed in in as much we could over the past couple of weeks… but the Doctor’s got us all on semen retention now.”

“BEES!” The Bad Doctor screamed with rage, stabbing his steroidal henchman in the neck with a syringe.

Retching and turning purple, Rodge the Bodge toppled with a splash into the foul mixture of human waste and sanitary wipes which ebbed its way through the Runs.

“I’m surrounded by IMBECILES!” he shouted into the void. “After all your COMPLAINING back in November! WASTING your PURE ESSENCE on these mindless SLUTS! This experiment is RUINED!”

“I can’t believe you just made me drink a… a smoothie with absolutely no sperm whatsoever!” stuttered True Blue.

“That’s just disgusting.” Said the Golden Goose. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Doctor.”

“And YOU!” raged Spendlove, rounding on the pregnant heroines. “You can forget about any more free rations from the Relentless Boys. Simon, step away from that filthy trollop immediately.”

There was a snap from his dog clicker and Randy Simes sprang away instantaneously, overturning his stool.

“Oh…” sighed the Golden Goose in disappointment as her slack, drooping tits swung unattended and Kevin dragged the full pails of milk back into the shadows.

“Since YOU seem determined to mother this fat whore”, said Spendlove, dragging the Golden Goose upright by the hair and pulling True Blue into a tight embrace with his other hand, “You can start doing it properly. Goose, I think you know where your dinner is coming from tonight.”

The handcuffed heroines squirmed and whimpered in Spendlove’s grip, as their swollen bellies squashed and jostled together. Both heroines and the mad scientist gazed down into the double well of cleavage which nestled between them, True Blue’s full, ripe and snowy-white mounds rising to soft peaks above the Golden Goose’s deflated and patchy milkbags.

As they continued to jostle against each other, chain trailing down by their shoulders, Spendlove’s hand pushed into the small of their back, the heat rose into their blushing cheeks and the Sleetside Specials finally made eye contact.

“It’s ok, Blue.” Said the Golden Goose quietly. “Your nips look delicious right now. I’ve been thinking about sucking on them for days.”

“Oh, Goosie.” sighed True Blue. “I was so excited when you were being milked… There’s… there’s nothing I want more.”

With a cackle, Spendlove slipped behind True Blue and hoisted her large, bulbous breasts up, pushing them forward toward the Golden Goose’s pink lips. The Brunette’s dark, swollen nipples poked out with excitement and True Blue gasped and whined as the Golden Goose ran her tongue in a tender circle around the areola.

“Oh PLEASE don’t tease me, Goosie…” cried the brunette.

The Golden Goose smiled mischievously and lapped again, no less delicately, at the True Blue’s other nipple. The matronly sidekick moaned helplessly as the blonde flicked from nipple to nipple, working the pink nubs into feverish stiffness without offering any succour to the brunette’s sensitive, overfilled jugs.

True Blue moaned and twisted, grinding her plush bottom up against the Bad Doctor, who held her fast as her jiggling breasts were tickled and tormented by the Golden Goose. Finally, the mature heroine groaned with relief as the Golden Goose sucked an entire nipple into her mouth and began to gulp down the hot fresh milk which squirted from her boob. The rush of milk from the heavy gland gave True Blue a hot, warm glow which tingled from the tips of her nipples to the quivering, moist folds of her snatch. She relaxed her neck, resting her lolling head on the Bad Doctor’s shoulder.

“That’s so nice, Goose. So good. Suck me, darling…” she muttered as the chubby blonde drank her fill.

“Psychologically fascinating.” Said Spendlove. “A true Jocasta complex. Desperate to nurse the children you never had. Am I right?”

True Blue, too overcome by sensation to lift her head from its rest on his shoulder or resist the firm grip of his hands around her tits, opened her brown eyes wide and blushed once again as the Bad Doctor’s words awoke a cloud of butterflies in her pregnant belly.

“What… what do you mean?” she said hesitantly.

“I mean this is what your body needs.” Said Spendlove. “Your unrealised psychological desire for children and your sublimated hunger for sexual stimulation has led you here, to the most satisfying moment of your life.”

“Oh…” said True Blue, trying to process the implications of the Bad Doctor’s words. “I… I suppose it has…”

“Don’t let this geezer shrink your head, Blue”, said The Golden Goose, detaching her lips from the brunette’s throbbing nipple. “Last week he was a surgeon and a zoologist and an endocrinologist. This week he’s a trick cyclist and a fucking obstetrician. The absolute brass neck on him. I just let it wash over me at this point.”

The Bad Doctor’s jaw worked, seething as he groped for a response. He glared furiously round at Randy Simes and Vampire Lawrence for support. They avoided his gaze.

The Golden Goose, undaunted, again attached herself to True Blue’s plenteous breast and gulped down the hot, fresh juice which flowed from her matronly sidekick.

“Oh, GOOSIE dear… Oh YES!” True Blue cooed, shivering in blissful pleasure as the blonde heroine eagerly suckled the milk from her swollen teat.

Lips curling back into a snarl, Spendlove stepped around the heroines, reached down and clamped his bony fingertips around the gold-embossed base of the Golden Goose’s butt plug. Exerting gradual, firm pressure, he began to tug the plug back out of her anus.

“I think…” he hissed “You’ve set altogether too many of the parameters in this experiment.”

With a gasp, the plump blonde’s jaw dropped open and her puffy pink lips quivered, groping for True Blue’s nipple. Propped up on her high-rise platform heels, The Golden Goose tried to shuffle her rippling bottom backwards to clench around the escaping plug.

“Don’t… ooooh… please don’t take it, doctor…” she pleaded. “It feels so good inside me…”

The Bad Doctor’s cruel contest with The Golden Goose’s sphincter forced the heroine to abandon her milky fountain and be dragged back into the arms of her enemy. Yanked by the chain which still connected their collars, True Blue quickly found the doctor probing between her pale silky buttocks as well.

“You… you beast!” sniffed the brunette, shuddering as Spendlove took a firm grasp of her own blue crystal stopper and unable to prevent herself flinching as he worked it back and forth, putting delicious pressure on her tender anus.

Toying with both plugs, smirking at the Sleetside Specials’ gasps and squeals, Spendlove easily wrangled the two unsteady, heavily pregnant heroines back into an obedient line, both masked faces staring helplessly into the yawning darkness of The Runs before them.

“Now that’s more like it.” Hissed Spendlove, working the heroines’ hips back and forth until they were both bent double at the waist, generous bottoms thrust into the air as all their effort focused on clenching around their plugs. “Ben. Get the specimens.”

There was a clatter and clink behind the Specials as the Relentless Boys dumped two picnic sized cool boxes on the sewer floor. Just Kevin and Terminal Ben each took a long metal set of tongs and gingerly lifted off the twin lids.

The faint sound of a rumbling purr could be heard from between the bags of ice contained within. Both Relentless Boys reached inside the boxes with their metal implements and carefully extracted pink, diminuitive Growlers, which wriggled their hatchling tendrils in the cool air of the sewer.

Spendlove laughed viciously as he heard the heroines moan in realisation.

“I should think this was pretty simple, ladies. Can you escape our two little friends here while they’re chasing your heat signature? As hot and wet as you are I should think they’ll have no trouble following you”

“Joke’s on you, Spendlove…” panted the Golden Goose, hair falling in a cascade from her bowed head. “Those little buggers are the main reason we’ve never tried to escape…”

“You can watch if you like…” huffed True Blue, “But your boys might struggle to restrain themselves once the tentacles show them how to really satisfy a girl…”

“I don’t think that will be necessary.” said Spendlove, watching the two heroines’ puffy pink cunts glisten and drip with the excitement of their impending violation.

Without further ceremony he pulled out the Specials’ butt plugs with twin pops like prosecco corks. Their sore, exhausted anuses gaped and dilated in tandem with their quivering lips and dripping cunts. The heroines squealed, rolling their soft bottoms back and forth, clutching in the empty air to rescue their stolen toys.

“Let’s see if you’re so keen on my creatures’ attention after they’ve laid their eggs in your intestines.” Sneered the Bad Doctor. Now RUN!”

Spendlove brought his flat palms down as hard as he could on the tormented and now utterly opened and defenceless rumps of the Golden Goose and True Blue. The shock, pleasure and sexual horror finally pushed both heroines over the edge and with a deep moan they both came. Feminine juices gushed down their thighs in a torrent. The Golden Goose’s knees buckled first, sending her boobs-first onto the floor of the sewer and dragging True Blue down into a shivering, orgasmic, milk-squirting heap.

Terminal Ben and Just Kevin dropped the infant growlers into the noisome trickle of water at the sewer bottom and rapidly backed away as the squirming pink creatures reached out thickening, darkening tentacles for the groaning pile of heroinely flesh.

Spendlove, striding somewhat more rapidly than usual as he watched the tendrils of the growlers sniff for him in the sewer air, hustled his Relentless Boys back toward the emergency lighting and the clear air of the surface.

The Sleetside Specials squirmed on top of each other, their thigh-high boots kicking the air, tender, ravaged breasts bouncing and jiggling, as tentacles again wrapped snaked around their exposed thighs and arms and wound into their hair, searching, probing for somewhere hot and wet to lay their eggs.

The Golden Goose squeezed her eyes and mouth shut tight and moaned deeply from her diaphragm as a wriggling tendril snaked its way between her buttocks and began to throb. She felt the digit exert steady pressure on her well-exercised sphincter and moaned deeply from her diaphragm. With a lusty tingle building in her loins, she began to move her hips in rhythm with the pulsing, aching sensation. The tendrils wrapping around her hips and neck thickened and darkened, pulling her into the tight, soft embrace of the creature as it rapidly reached sexual maturity. She felt the tell-tale rush of heat toward the tentacle in her anus and the pitch of her moan built to a shrill whine as she unclenched and surrendered her back-entrance to the beast’s foul seed.

True Blue tried her best to suppress a scream as she felt her thighs roughly parted by the growing tentacle creature. As she felt a forest of slimy tendrils swarming over her groin and rump, seeking out new breeding grounds, she stammered and whimpered and attempted to hold still. As the monster found a home for its young and thrust its way into her defenceless anus, though, the brunette’s jaw dropped, she gasped with shock and the creature took the opportunity to slide another thick tentacle into her mouth, as a treat.

The frenzied, lust-addled groaning of the two heroines, the purring growls of their squamous lovers, and the squirting of many fluids mentionable and unmentionable on the brick-lined walls and floor could be heard in the Runs for some hours that night.

Part four: Rubber necks and brass cans

A low rumble reverberated through the Daily Grind office like a passing jet aircraft.

“Fucking hell”, said Val Diamond, Office Manager.

“It’s the Growlers! I told you they were real! I told you!” shouted Nigel Northgate in triumph, Features Editor.

The staff huddled at the front window to witness the awful scene below. Des Hambone snapped away through the glass with his trusty SLR.

Emerging from all of the gullies in Market Square was a stream of waving, writhing violet tentacles. Reaching up, swelling and darkening in the spring sunshine, the creatures were swarming to street level for the first time.

“Oh, shit!” exclaimed Val. “Nige, Sam’s getting the breakfast order in today!”

“Oh, bollocks.” Said Nigel.

Trotting back across the square, trainee journalist Samantha Larkspur was heavily laden with a box of bacon rolls, sausage sandwiches, Karen’s usual avocado toast, and the Daily Grind’s customary 2ltr container of Worcestershire sauce. Her slender, doe-like legs quivering on top of her stiletto heels, Sam swerved and dodged to avoid the grasping tentacles as they aggressively lunged at her from beneath drain covers and out of manholes.

To the cheers of staff, and one muffled boo from Des, Sam managed to close the gap to the office door and plunged through.

With a massed growl which rattled the single-glazed office windows, the thwarted Growlers burst out of the many cracks in market square and surged in a squamous mass at the Daily Grind building. Like a purple tide they crashed against brick and mortar and steel and glass and the building shook as a million tentacles pawed at the poorly-insulated, heat-bleeding outer wall.

“Oh, they’re massive…” murmured Nigel in horror, rubbing a sweaty palm over his bald scalp. “They’re real. I fucking said. I fucking…”

“Snap out of it.” Said Val, her artificially-enhanced silicone cleavage heaving with suppressed dread in her leopard-print jumpsuit. “The security lock’ll hold them for a few minutes. We need to find a way…”

“It’s pointless.” Said Des. “They’re between us and the Old Tannery multi-storey car park.”

“Everyone get upstairs.” Said Val, glancing toward the old fire axe by the staircase.

Before the Grind team could move, however, an avalanche of perished building materials crashed through the ceiling from the floor above.

In the rubble stood six feat of lean, compact feminine muscle in skintight spandex leggings, Kevlar-lined gauntlets and sports bra, and a visored helmet covering everything but her vicious scarlet- lipstick mouth. Her solid washboard midriff gleamed from solar plexus to perfectly-waxed public mound.

“Alright, you limey SOBs, listen up and listen good.” Boomed Madame Razor.

“It’s the legendary cat burglar, Madame Razor.”, shuddered Nigel. “Remember the feature we did back in October?”****

“I thought the Golden Goose sorted her out?” said Val.

“Nah.” Said Des. “She got away. Everyone thought she went back to America.”

“I came here to settle a score with your boss, Karen Roth.” Snarled Madame Razor through gritted teeth. “Thought a couple broken bones would remind her what defamation means to a supervillain. But that cowardly bitch is hiding in a filing cabinet or something. Then I saw this crazy shit outside.”

“Did you do this?” exclaimed Val. “Is this some dirty little revenge on the Golden Goose?”

“Absolutely not.” Said Madame Razor. “I’ve seen creatures like this before. Trust me, you would not go near them by choice.”

“I fucking don’t trust you, love.” Said Val.

“You don’t have to.” Said Madame Razor. “Just be straight with me and we will get out of here. You.” Madame Razor pointed at Sam. “Are you wearing panties today?”

The trainee blushed and squirmed.

“Er… no…” she admitted. “Val told me not to, she says the lads prefer…”

“Got it. Shut up.” Snapped Madame Razor. “Bad news folks, these things are as bad as I feared. These monsters are chasing pussy. Your pussy. We need to get all the ladies out of here now, or those beavers are going to be full of tentacles and popping out eggs by sundown.”

“Well that’s fucking disgusting.” Said Val.

“It is. Fellas need to watch your asses too. These things aren’t picky.” Said Madame Razor. “Just stay on my six and I’ll cut us all through to your dumb right-hand-drive bumper cars. And I suggest you all clock off for the day.”

The Growlers, tentacles splayed across the transparent office entrance door, were now shoving. Hard. Cracks appeared across the glass.

“Stand back.” Said Madame Razor. Raising her heavy gauntlets, with a flick of her wrist a dozen blades sprang from hidden mechanisms to create two deadly talons at the end of her taut forearms.

The Daily Grind staff huddled by the lifts as the Growlers finally burst into the office with a sound like rolling thunder.

Madame Razor became a blur of motion as she slashed and cut right and left at the tentacled horrors. Murderous steel cut through unnaturally distended flesh, splattering a blue ichor across the floor. The newspaper offices rapidly became a charnel house of growler blood and slithering, dissected remains.

“Come on, folks!” shouted Madame Razor over the animal growls. “Follow me!”

Gruntham’s journalists followed Madame Razor’s pert, steely rear as the villainess carved her way through the floundering mass of Growlers outside like a bronze-age warship through the demon-infested seas of antiquity.

The Growlers appeared to shrink back in shock from Madame Razor’s furious assault. In less than a minute the Grind team had cleared the square and were running for the Old Tannery. Madame Razor brought a heavy boot down on a rattling manhole cover as pink tentacles began to poke through.

“Oi, Madame!” Shouted Des, raising his camera. “Hold it for a second?”

“What, damn it?” said Madame Razor, looking around at the snapper.

A narrow tentacle darted out and flattened itself against a crimson-clad leg. Instantly it bloomed a dark purple and encircled Madame Razor’s ankle. The villainess was yanked off her feet and her red-visored helmet landed hard on the pavement.

“Oh, shit.” She said, cold dread wrapping around her chest as quickly as the tentacle up her leg. Pink fingers reached between her splayed thighs for her barely-clad vulva from below the steel cover.

Val Diamond brought the fire axe down on the tentacle with a crunch. Blue fluid squirted copiously out over the tarmac. Madame Razor was seized under the arms hauled away from the rattling manhole and lashing, disembodied tentacle by Nigel and Sam.

“Thanks.” Wheezed the crimson villainess, clambering back upright as the sea of mauled tentacles pulsed and heaved across the square.

“Thanks to you.” Said Nigel.

“Hang on a minute.” Said Sam. “Karen’s still in the office. She’s on her own!”

“Let them have her.” Sneered Madame Razor. “A few rounds with these little perverts’ll probably loosen her up. Am I right?”

There was silence from the remaining staffers.

“You wash your mouth out.” Said Val. “Karen’s the best boss we’ve had at the Grind since the days of Beaky Bob.”*****

“Her remote working policy is fucking decent.” Said Des.

“She gave me a week off when poor old Uncle Bulgaria passed away.” Sniffed Nigel.

“He was a great dog, Nige.” Said Val.

“And I’ve never worked anywhere with free tampons in the ladies’ room before.” Said Sam.

“Woke bullshit if you ask me.” said Des.

“So if you’re not going back for her, ‘Madame Razor’ or whoever you are”, said Val, hefting the fire axe, “We’ll do it ourselves.”

Madame Razor’s jaw dropped and rapidly closed again. Muscled tightened in her neck and a terrible emotional struggle seemed to take place inside the glossy red helmet.

“…ok, fine.” She said thickly. “I’ll get Roth. She’ll be at the car park in 20 minutes, alone, alright? Because I have an appointment to get to. An evil appointment.”

Val, Sam, Nigel and Des sprinted for the cars while Madame Razor turned at bay for another round with the Growlers.

***

Twenty minutes later, Karen Roth, dishevelled, spattered with Growler blood and breathing hard, staggered through the Old Tannery car park. Waiting next to her crimson Aston Martin DB11 Volante was the entire staff of the Daily Grind.

“Thank Christ you’re safe”, said Val.

“I’m glad you guys made it out,” said Karen, running grazed knuckles through her sweaty auburn fringe.

“Weird to say it, but I think we’re all bloody glad Madame Razor showed up.” Said Des.

“I’ve… said some bad stuff about her over the years.” Said Karen hesitantly. “Now I guess I might have to dial it back a little.”

“What the hell do we do?” asked Nigel.

“Not as if we can call the police.” Said Des. “How are you supposed to deal with that crazy shit digitally?”

“I think the Golden Goose has the key to this.” Said Karen. “But if the photos we’ve been getting are correct, she’s being held prisoner somewhere in the city. We need to find her.”

“Alright.” Said Val. “What do you need?”

“Nige, I need you to map every reported Growler sighting and give me filters based on dates.” Said Karen.

“On it.” Said Nigel.

“Val, I need you to talk to some of your old buddies in Knacker Square and see when and where the Golden Goose and True Blue were last sighted. If they have been captured, the sisterhood will have seen a bump in trade.”

“Absolutely, Karen”, replied Val.

“And Des”, said Karen. “Pull your head out of your ass for once and look again at all the photos of the Golden Goose and True Blue we’ve had from our anonymous source. Ignore the giant tits and find background details that will lead us to those two.”

“What about Tanya?” said Des. “We should call her. No-one knows the Golden Goose better than her.”

“Tanya… Tanya’s been talking about finding another job lately.” Said Karen.

The team stood silent, dumbfounded.

“I know I shouldn’t be telling you this”, said Karen, tears starting in her green eyes, “But I don’t want to lose her… and I don’t want to push her. Especially if the Golden Goose is in trouble… she’d want to hit the streets with us but with her body… she’s ideal prey for the Growlers.”

“Yeah”, said Des, contemplatively. “She really is.”

“How do you know for sure what the Growlers are, Karen?” said Nigel.

“Let me put it this way, folks.” Said Karen. “Don’t ever take a job in Delta City.”

A shudder ran through those members of the team familiar with U.S. news.

“We’re Gruntham’s journal of record, people.” Said Karen, straightening up to her full height of 6’2”. “Let’s get to work.”

The work will continue in Chapter 5 of the Adventures of the Golden Goose!

Footnotes

*The power struggle between the Cruisers and the Relentless Boys was introduced in The Golden Goose Chapter 2: New Management

**The General Medical Council (GMC) are the UK’s regulatory body for medical doctors. Emeric Spendlove was struck off in following the Sleetside Healthcare Horror incident in August 2021.

***Readers will recall the arrival of Tex Danderville and the DOGS in Golden Goose Chapter 3: The Septics are Coming.

****Madame Razor’s first appearance in Gruntham-on-Sleet was also featured in GG Ch. 2: New Management.

*****’Beaky’ Bob Freeman, Editor-in-Chief of the Daily Grind, 1992 to 2009. A legend in his own lifetime, he died of liver cirrhosis in 2015, attempting to drink as much Buckfast Tonic Wine as possible to “beat” an expected ban by the Scottish Parliament.

Tags:

BBW, lactation, impregnation, cumflation, bestiality, dubcon, tentacles

Disclaimer

This is a work of fantasy fiction for entertainment purposes only. The author does not condone violence against women, drug dealing, or organised crime.

All characters, events, and locations depicted (apart from HM United Kingdom which is, at time of writing, a real place, and Delta City, which is Mr X’s creation) are entirely fictional, original creations by the author, FermiRefuted. If you enjoyed this story, I’d love to hear from you at FermiRefuted@hotmail.com.