“I don’t want to be hearing this,” Barbara replies in a singsong voice, leaning on the walkway’s railing and staring at the dark depths of the cave. It seemed bigger to her when she was younger.“Master Bruce trusts you,” Alfred insists, nonplussed. He joins her in admiring the view. Barbara wrinkles her nose at the damp smell. Sometimes she misses this place, but not the smell.“He trusts Dick too. Or he used to,” she says.“Master Dick has made it clear that he can’t leave Bludhaven. Master Tim. Z continued to visit her, although not often. Mrs. H broke into my thoughts when she continued the story."We showed up at the restaurant without calling ahead. He tried to pull that macho bullshit 'I don't have time for you right now' act he does, but we weren't having it. I'm not going to say he's a teddy bear under all that bluster, because he isn't." She paused and looked from one to the other of us, probably wondering how much we knew of Mr. Z's rather colorful past, and apparently decided. They were amazed at what I had done in the last week.They were enthralled by my reminiscing of my motor racing the prior weekend, as I showed them a couple of racing reviews on my smartphone, showing them articles from specialized sports magazines that had just come out.They wanted to know if it was something I was going to pursue further.I admitted it was really just a one time deal, telling them all about Tony, how he was the main driver of the car, and that he had brought the sponsorship. Finally, a pair of the largest boobs Petra had ever seen pushed out of the silk shirt. She cried again, horrified by the incredibly large breasts tugging and swaying on her chest. Like a pair of soccer balls squeezed within her skin.Finally, Petra was able to tear her gaze from the impossibly large bosoms. She stared up, and cried as she saw herself. She was still young, pretty. Too pretty. Curly locks of golden hair swirled around her face, dangling down off her shoulders. Her lips were full.
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