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[Prologue]
 

As I recall, it was supposed to be a normal July in 2450 New Darwin. Children started the new school year fresh from two months of care-free play. College students enjoyed their last gasp of freedom before returning to a world filled with boring lectures and tedious assignments. As for me, Sam Sloboth, reporter for the New Darwin Herald, I had my share of unenviable jobs, such as covering the upcoming city council elections. If I had a dollar for each photo I took of a politico kissing a baby I would've run for office myself.
    Politics, however, was the last thing on my mind when a series of incidents broke up the normal July routine. What would've been the story of the decade was canned by my superiors and highly placed city officials. Though I have no reason to believe so, I hope the story I'm recording now will find its way into the hands of people who need the information. It just might save their lives.

The afternoon of July 15, 2450 was unusually cool and windy. It felt like late October weather. For Pamela Higgins, senior, Lawnsmore High School, it just as well have been the dead of winter.

    Pam was running late. The make-up chemistry lab took much longer to complete than anticipated. She ran the risk of missing her friends at the local shopping complex. "I just had to get sick last week," bemoaned Pam as she hurried along the sidewalk. "I hope Jackie and Wilma are waiting for me." Pam pulled a minicomp from her shirt pocket and enabled her earbug. She dialed a number. "Jackie? Yeah, it's me... It couldn't be helped... Mr Cox made me do the lab twice. Yeah, he's a real taskmaster. How soon? Oh, a shortcut and ten minutes? Sounds good. Kisses!" Pam secured her minicomp.

    Pamela Higgins would've done well if she remembered what her parents said about shortcuts.

    The shortcut was an alley used by supply lorries to service nearby businesses. Pam often made use of this route and felt at ease each time. But now she felt a bit apprehensive. Pam swore she sensed the walls closing in on her. The exit seemed to move away into the far distance.
    Pam stopped suddenly. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Her senses told her that she was in danger. She never had a chance to move. What appeared to be a woman simply materialized out of nowhere. The mystery woman had the most captivating face and hypnotic eyes that Pam had ever seen. Paralyzed, Pam couldn't move or yell, yet she didn't cared. She felt completely at ease, as if she knew the woman all her life. The woman stood but a hand span away, looking deep into Pam's eyes. She appeared satisfied with what she saw and, with dramatic suddenness, lunged at Pam's neck. A pair of pronounced fangs bit into the flesh.
    Cooing with delight, Pam embraced the woman bosom to bosom. Pam never knew the joy she felt at that moment. She wanted to feel that way forever. Just as quickly as she attacked, the woman drew back her fangs. She smiled seductively at her victim, then kissed her like a lover. Walking backwards, the woman simply vanished into thin air.
    Her chest filling with heat, Pam got on her knees. Moaning with pleasure, Pam rubbed her small bosom urgently. Then it happened. >From outward appearances Pam's breasts blew up like a corny special effect from an ancient sci-fi movie. The bra died first, unable to withstand the strain placed on it. Her shirt material, previously capable of handling whatever Pam's breasts had to offer, was tested to the limit and failed. Her urgent bosom continued to grow, brushing past the ruptured shirt and placing her now-dead bra out onto her lap.
    Pam giggled as she playfully poked her new boobs. She couldn't help but realize that she was literally a very big girl now. It was in this state of bliss that the Police found her. Imagine their surprize when they discovered that the girl's watermelon bust was real flesh instead of plastiskin. Thank goodness for large police blankets.
 

1

I'm glad that I work for the New Darwin Herald, New Darwin's premier newspaper. Founded in 2120 by eccentric colonist Joseph Bixby, the Herald prided itself on its long record of reporting excellence. Then one wonders what kind of guardian angel is looking out after me. Normally the stunts I pulled off would've resulted in my permanent employment as a dishwasher in a third-rate nightclub. My immediate boss, Vince Clermont, would love to see me work at such a place. He would make it a point to have dinner there each night just to make sure I stayed busy. But Vince will have to keep dreaming about that, for he had a more immediate use of my talents.

    "Sam! Where are you?" said Vince as he walked down the aisle. Sam's cubicle was indistinguishable from all the others on the outside. Only a simple nameplate grace the cubicle's door. Embolden by his authority, Vince entered without knocking.
    The inside of Sam's cubicle was an altogether different story. Sheets of printed news articles competed with flat photos for space on the walls. A storage cabinet next to the desk was equally decorated. Taking up the south wall was a Jordan couch. It looked a bit worse for wear due to its use as an impromptu bed. The assemblage of clutter on Sam's desk reminded Vince of a tornado-ravaged subdivision. As for Sam himself the man was absorbed in a bit of reading. Only then did Vince rap his knuckles on the door.
    "Enter, my most exalted Lord High Executioner," Sam said, dark eyes twinkling. "What brings you down to the level of your most humble servant?"
    "I'd hardly call you humble," Vince said. "I don't know what the Old Lady sees in you, and frankly I don't either. We need a body at the Pampas rally. You can't possibly get into trouble at an event like that."
    "Unless he spouts asinine nonsense I'll behave." Sam grumbled as he picked up his minicomp and camera.
    "You better behave," Vince countered, "and don't provoke the man like you did to Andrew Nitts. The poor man is still in therapy."
    "That's where all politicos should be." Sam grabbed his well-worn hat off the top of the storage cabinet and walked off.
 

2

July 16, 12:40 p.m. Vicky Bace, 16, was walking back to school after having lunch at the Tri-Corner mini-mall. The mall was only half a kilometer away, so the walk was reasonably short. Momentarily, Vicky Bace would find that distance insurmountable.

    Vicky walked briskly down the sidewalk as she listened to her favorite music over her headphones. She decided to eat alone after discovering that Lian, her best friend, had gone to a Roaner concert with Kevin, Vicky's steady. To say that Vicky was miffed was putting it mildly. She could see how Kevin would want Lian's company instead of her. Lian was tall, had long legs, brown-shaded skin, and a natural 38F bosom. Vicky was no shrinking violet with her blonde hair, slim waist and 34D bust. Honestly, she thought to herself, why would Kevin want Lian as his honey? Besides, Kevin is running the risk of having his eyes put out if Lian turns around too quickly!
    Just then Vicky felt a strange compulsion to stop. It was as if her feet grew roots and anchored her firmly to the plasticrete sidewalk. She turned to her left, looking down the service alleyway with expectant eyes. A surge of fear and apprehension filled her as she saw a woman materialize out of thin air. The woman advanced, her arms spread wide in a gesture of peace. Vicky felt her fear dying. The woman looked harmless and friendly. Indeed, Vicky got the instinct impression that she knew the woman all her life. Reciprocating the gesture, Vicky opened her arms to embrace the woman.
    The woman hugged Vicky firmly. Then, with swiftness, a pair of fangs bit into Vicky's neck. As with Pam, Vicky felt a rush of warmth and love. She never felt so content before in her life, and she wanted the feeling to last forever. Breaking contact, the woman gazed lovingly into Vicky's eyes, then kissed the girl firmly.
    Vicky closed her eyes and didn't see the woman leave. Sitting down on the sidewalk, Vicky ripped open her blouse, thus sparing her rapidly expanding breasts that dramatic chore. With greedy fingers the girl caressed and squeezed her growing endowments. She giggled and laughed out loud, oblivious to the attention she was drawing to herself. A nearby pair of police officers was summoned to the scene by a concerned citizen. When the officers found the girl they noticed the wounds on her neck. An ambulance was called for, and the police kept the onlookers at a distance. Though one onlooker had some questions to ask.

I had lunch at a hotdog stand located at the Tri-Corner mini-mall. The only thing better than a hotdog loaded with mustard and relish was getting a story on the front page. Vince would give his usual rant on my 'inappropriate behavior' on the one hand and thank me for putting a slime like Pampas in his place on the other. All in a day's work, I suppose.
    I noticed a set of rollers (EMS or police lights) nearby and decided to investigate. It was then that I was introduced to my next story. A young woman was sitting on the ground. Though draped in a police blanket, it was clear that the woman had a considerable set of norks. Taking photos of the scene, I next asked the officers what happened.
    "Well," said the first officer, a senior patrolman, "it appears this lady's hopped up on goofballs. She laughed, giggled and ripped open her own shirt."
    "What about the bandage on her neck," I asked. "A self-inflicted wound?"
    "Something like that," said the second officer. "She had a pin in her hands. Look, she got me in the wrist." The officer showed me his bio-bandaged wound.
    "Yuck!" said the sitting woman. "This bandage is irritating me!" She took off the bandage, revealing her neck. Not missing a beat, I took a photo. "And this blanket! It's so rough on my booby skin!" With no hesitancy the woman removed the course blanket. I was right, for she had a pair of watermelons fit of an Angelican woman. She could do some serious rib damage with those things.
    Hastily, the officers draped the blanket over the woman's chest again. She was ushered into the ambulance and spirited away. I could get her name later at the hospital. Now it was time to go back to my desk and prepare a story.

"Congratulations, Sloboth," said Vince as he entered the cubicle. "You came through again on recovering from a fowl-up of your own creation."
    "Fowl-up?" Sam acted surprized. "Vince, that Pampas was as dirty as week-old knickers. Better to have him busted now than wait for a bigger scandal to blow up when he's on the council."
    "Your civic concern touches me, Sam. Our attorneys are glad that they didn't have to defend your inflammatory words in court. Get your story and photos to Nealy in thirty minutes."
    "Such a compassionate taskmaster you are, Vince."
    Sighing resignation, Vince walked off. Sam turned on his desk computer and proceeded to write his story. After giving his usual good work a final touch, Sam sent it to Nealy, the copy editor. The photos were next. The sight of Pampas looking like a deranged sea bass on acid wouldn't be printed, but Sam sent the photo to Nealy anyway. One could always hope.
    Then came the photos Sam took of the addled woman. On closer inspection, Sam realized it was a girl in her mid-to-late teens. It was not uncommon for girls to get nanite augmentation, but rarely did they get norks as big as watermelons. Unless she was Angelican or a very naughty girl, that is.
    Looking intently, Sam wondered about the girl's neck wound. He had his minicomp zoom in closer on the wound. No, make that two wounds. Had he not known any better Sam swore that the girl was bitten. The marks certainly weren't hickeys gone horribly wrong. Curiosity sufficiently aroused, Sam got on the phone network and contacted his 'friend' at Maryland Hospital. Since that hospital was the closest one to where the girl was found, Sam reasoned that she would be taken there.
    He was proven right, of course.

"Bitten?" said Sam incredulously. "Wally, you're pulling me a funny."
    Wally Puten, morgue assistant, frowned. "Sam, have I ever given you bad info before? What I got is straight from the doctor's lips. This Vicky Brace girl had apparently been bitten by someone, or something, with a sharp pair of incisors."
    "No way she could've done this herself with, oh, let's say with a pair of fake teeth?"
    Wally looked down his nose at Sam like he would to a wise-ass student. "Not without doing a heck of a lot more damage and the loss of much more blood. The punctures were over her neck veins, yet she lost a minimal amount of blood. And she wasn't the only one."
    "Someone else got attacked the same way? When?"
    Wally held out his minicomp. "Oh, how I would like to get a new chair for my study. My old one is about to fall apart on me."
    "You're as mercenary as they come, Wally," Sam said whimsically. He produced his own minicomp and inputted some figures. "Would 40 credits be sufficient?"
    "More than adequate." Wally pressed a few buttons. "Thank you. Now, listen carefully. Last night another girl was attacked in the same way. Her name is Pamela Higgins. Here's another fact - she and Vicky had been, according to their medical records, small chested. Somehow they ended up much larger breasts in an inexplicably short period of time."
    "How did that happen?"
    "How should I know? I'm just a meat slab manager. You're supposed to be the professional sleuth."
    "Can you arrange for me to see one of the girls?"
    Wally smiled. "I think a plush seat cushion would go nice with my chair."
    "Yes," Sam grumbled as he accessed his expense account, "you need something soft to rest your brains on."
 

3

Thanks to Wally's assistance my expense account was considerably slimmer. He was able to sneak me up to Pamela Higgins' room on the fifth floor. The girl looked fit and rested. It was the sudden addition of breasts that would make anyone who knew her stop in their tracks.
    Pam looked at me with indifference as I entered the room. She was resting her hands on her considerable bust. The gown-covered flesh rose and fell with her breathing. "You might you be?" she asked.
    "I'm Sam Sloboth, a reporter for the New Darwin Herald." I produced my reporting credentials, namely my press passcard and Herald ID. "I like to ask you a few questions about what happened to you last night."
    "Nothing happened to me last night."
    "I beg to differ, Miss Higgins. According to your medical file you had, up to last night, a 85cm bust measurement. Now you're up to 163cm. All-in-all you could be mistaken for an Angelican lass. How do you account for your sudden growth?"
    Pam blushed warmly. "I meet a wonderful woman last night in the alley behind the Kupert Store. She gave me what any girl would want for herself - a bosom that no boy could resist."
    Though they were covered, I had to agree her new bust would make any boy weak in the knees. Some women get such large breasts because they want to follow the Angelican way of life. Other simple do it so they could crush their boyfriend's ribcages at every opportunity. Why was I getting the feeling that Pam was inclined to the latter choice? "Pam, could you describe this woman?"
    "Oh, easy. You'll know her when you see her."
    "That's not much of a description."
    "She's the kind of woman that you know all about the instant you see her. She's special." Pam patted her bosom. "Oh, if only she was here now so I could thank her."
    Before I could reply another person entered the room. Judging by his expression he wasn't happy to see me. It was Sergeant-Detective James Lybon of the NDPD. He kept his dark hair short and unruly. I could only guess he combs his hair with buttered toast to obtain the healthy wax look. "Well, it's my old friend Detective Lybon. How does it feel to walk without a leash?"
    "I outta make you eat your words, Slo-Go," said Lybon, deliberately mangling my last name. "You're not supposed to be here. Miss Higgins has not been cleared to see guests. Especially nosey press proles like you."
    "Press Proles? That's an insensitive and inflammatory label. You should be the last person to throw dispersions around. Not after that caper in the Box."
    "Hey, I thought the lady was in need of directions," said Lybon. "Any man could make that mistake."
    "Except that Box lady was on a mobster's payroll. Not a good thing to have on your record, conversing with a mobster's whore."
    Lybon looked fit to bust a vein. "Enough of this tripe! As I said, Miss Higgins will not talk to the press at the moment. Her doctor has given me permission to ask her questions regarding the attack."
    "Ah-Ha! So there is something! What leads do you have? Will the public be informed?"
    "You'll have to wait for the official press release later today." Lybon opened the door. Outside was a patrolman. "Get going or I'll have Kerblitz here show you the way out."
    I harumphed and collected my gear. "I still see that harassment of reporters in the legitimate pursuit of a story is still condoned by the NDPD. My editor and your boss will hear of this."
    "Blow it out your shorts, Sloboth. It's creeps like you that gives good reporters a black eye."
    I would've said something, but Patrolman Kerblitz was giving me 'the look'. Besides, I had several hunches that needed to be worked on.

July 16, 7:02 p.m. The Police released a statement to the effect that there was an assailant operating in an area around the Tri-Corner mini-mall. They advised people to take extra precaution while in that area. Two Lawnsmore students, Kimberly Ash and Erica Blake, did take precautions, but that wasn't enough to deter the specter that followed them.

"We should walk faster," said Kimberly. "This place is creepy."
    "Creepy? This is the most brightly-lit area of the mall." Erica gestured to the various lamp posts and spotlights. "Besides, there's security all around here."
    "Just as well. I can't wait to get home. My bladder is acting up. Let's stop at the clothing store and use the restroom."
    "You and your nervous bladder. No wonder Billy thinks his girl is a walking fire hydrant."
    "Watch that silly lip, girl! You're the proverbial leaking bag of gas."
    The banter continued all the way to the entrance of the Dress Depot, a bargain clothing store. The girls entered the restroom and proceeded with their nature calls.
    After twenty minutes the store detective became suspicious. The girls hadn't left the restroom. According to the security system, two of the stalls had been occupied for the same amount of time. With a measured walk, the detective made for the restroom. Just short of the door she noticed a rather attractive woman leaving. It was the queerest thing, for the detective's minicomp showed no-one else had entered or left the restroom in the brief time it took to reach it. The detective committed the woman's face to memory.
    What awaited the detective in the restroom was a scene of strangeness. The two occupied stalls were open. She saw the two girls and gasped in surprize. Working quickly, the detective had her minicomp play back a portion of the store surveillance video. Her hunch was proven correct. Just over 20 minutes ago the girls had normal chests. Somehow, during that time, their breasts got so large that they couldn't get out of the stalls without assistance. The girls had busts that were clearly bigger than what the average Angelican woman carried. The detective called the store manager, telling her to come immediately to the restroom. By procedure, the Police had to be brought in. It was going to be a long night for the store detective.
 

4

Sam's cubicle served as his second apartment. He often used the Herald's archive system for research. His friend Malbert, the archive manager, allowed Sam to have unlimited access while in the Herald building. Making the most of his long research stints, Sam had a cabinet in his cubicle that held spare clothes and a sinfully soft pillow and blanket. He made use of the showers in the Herald's exercise room and ate from the cafeteria and break rooms. Sam also had a resource in the form of Eugene Potts, the night cleaning crew supervisor. It was quite possible that Eugene knew more about 'the dirt' on New Darwin's prominent institutions and personalities. Eugene had an opinion on everything because he, like Sam, had an insatiable sense of curiosity.
    In the cafeteria, Sam and Eugene were attempting to eat a vending machine's interpretation of a tuna casserole. Some things were best left to human hands. "It's a poser, I admit," said Sam aftering washing down a bit of casserole with lollywater. "My minicomp is keeping tabs on the police frequencies. Just three hours ago two teenage girls were found in a clothing store's restroom. Both had somehow grown breasts in a incredibly short period of time. Though the cops didn't say it, I'll bet a week's pay that those girls have the same puncture marks on their necks like Pamela Higgins and Vicky Brace."
    Eugene gave up on his bowl of barely palatable casserole. "All of them were teenage girls with small breasts, but somehow ended up with whoppers. Could it be a demented breast fairy?"
    Sam shook his head. "I'm inclined to think that it's more of a demon. I've considered a traditional vampire, but the lack of blood loss rules out that possibility."
    "Supernatural cause? Sam, this is beginning to sound like one of your unprintable stories again. Why would a demon bite girls and give them huge norks?"
    "In some myths, demons feeds on the sexual energy of humans. Some humans are visited again and again by these creatures. Anything that could enhance their sexual energy would be used. Perhaps the breasts are an after-effect of being bitten by a demon, so the girls could generate more energy for this thing to feed on." Sam wolfed down a piece of apple pie. "I believe my notion is right. All the attacks have occurred within a one-kilometer radius of the Tri-Corner mini-mall. Whoever is behind this is either loaded down with wetware gizmos or has unnatural camouflage abilities. What else could explain the fact that this assailant hasn't be caught, much less identified?"
    "True, but I for one don't believe in real-life boogeymen." Eugene took a bite out of his breadroll. "Now that there's been another attack, the Police are obligated to broadcast a live press conference. You'll be there regardless if Vince sends you or not."
    "You know me so well, Eugene."

I had to admit that Eugene was correct. The Police did indeed held a press conference the next morning. I was surprized that Vince sent me to cover the story. He figured that my incendiary comments would cause Sergeant-Detective Lybon to suffer a brain embolism. An unlikely occurrence since I consider Lybon to be immune to such minor annoyances. He probably has two or three embolisms a day. Besides, life wouldn't be the same without Lybon hanging around for comic relief.
    After the usual rigmarole Lybon answered specific questions. He pointed to an ONN reporter. "Detective Lybon," said the reporter, "how do you account for the victims' breasts growth?"
    Lybon smiled one of his know-it-all smiles. "We're convinced that the girls had been injected with samples of the Bubbles drink. As you know, it has been proven that Bubbles, the breast-enlarging drink created by the late Mr Big back in 2414, becomes more potent as it ages. The assailant obviously has access to at least one or more 24oz bottles of Bubbles." Lybon grinned when he saw my raised hand in the audience. "Mr Sloboth," he said confidently, "what's your question?"
    "Make that questions," I said resolutely. "Just how much Bubbles was injected into each girl? I find it hard to believe the assailant injected 24 ounces of liquid directly into his victims. Where the girls made to drink the stuff? If so, what about the puncture marks on the neck?"
    "The girls didn't drink the potion. The assailant used an injector disguised as a set of false teeth."
    "False teeth? You mean this guy is acting out the part of a vampire, using hollowed-out incisors to inject the girls with the potion? Boy, that batch of Bubbles he's using must be very potent indeed." Some of the audience laughed. I could always count on some people to dismiss my observations out-of-hand.
    Lybon smiled again. "Very good, Mr Sloboth. We could use more deductive minds like yours. Yes, the girls were definitely bitten in a manner that suggests the assailant was acting out the part of a vampire. Such cases of people acting out vampire fantasies are rare, but not unknown. As for the potency of the potion, it's been proven that it 'matures' at a different rate from bottle to bottle. That explains why the last two victims have busts a bit bigger than the first two."
    "One final question," I said. "What is the status of Pamela Higgins and Vicky Base?"
    "Both girls have been released last night and are attending school at this moment. The psych people recommend that the girls be returned to their regular environments so they could adapt more quickly. It's not as if they're the only busty girls in school, but they'll get plenty of attention and assistance."
    Lybon said all of that with sincerity, but the girls had something else in mind when they returned to school.

July 17, 12:11 p.m. Lawnsmore High School. Lunch was served and the students ate quickly. Everyone wanted to take a quick gander at Pamela and Vicky. There were other girls in school with watermelon busts, but these two got their new chests in an unique way. Karl, Pamela's boyfriend, did more than just look at his enlarged belle.

"Gee, Pam, you're quite healthy," said Karl. He was mesmerized by the sight of Pam's tight shirt. Her father was no piker, but his shirts were not made to be worn by an overbusty girl.
    "Thank you for noticing, Karl. The others pretend not to notice, but they keep stealing glances in my direction. I'm not the only 'big girl' in school, you know."
    "They know, Pam." Karl kept finding himself looking down at Pam's bust. He looked lustful and guilty at the same time.
    Pam grabbed hold of Karl's hand. "Poor boy. I know what you want. Perhaps a quick peek at my endowments will put your mind at ease. I sure hate to have you suffer an embolism on account of me."
    Karl flushed even more. "How... er... ummm... 'generous' of you, Pam." His gazed longingly at the row of buttons on Pam's stretched shirt. "Where and when?"
    "Behind the gym. No-one ever goes there during lunch." Pam pulled Karl up from his lunch seat. Some mischievous boys and even a few girls whistled as they watched the duo leave the cafeteria. Teenagers' brains are so easily filled with dirty thoughts.
    The duo got behind the gym with the swiftness of a jump cut. Pam undid her shirt buttons, revealing an ocean of cleavage. Karl stared intently. He wanted to remember Pam's pale, quivering flesh forever. Unintentionally, he brought his head down lower, his nose almost touching the very flesh he admired.
    "Ouch!" Karl stood up and rubbed his neck. "Pam, why did you do that? Now everyone will slap me on the back and congratulate me all afternoon." He inspected his hand. "At least you didn't draw blood."
    Pam giggled as she buttoned up her shirt. "Karl, that hickey is hardly noticeable. As long as you pretend you don't have it then nobody will notice it." Standing on her toes, Pam kissed Karl on the cheek, making him flush in embarrassment again. Having your girlfriend's huge bust press up against you was pleasure enough.
    Karl did what Pam suggested, but he found himself feeling extremely tired. It was as if all his energy had drained out of him. With a total exertion of willpower, Karl made it back home and promptly collapsed on his bed. He slept for a full 10 hours before his hunger bangs forced him to get up and eat a late-night dinner.
 

5

Why wasn't I surprized? Once again, Detective Lybon answered questions without really answering them. I decided to find my own answers. At the Dress Depot I found the store detective, Miss Lynda Norr. From her face it was clear she didn't tell the Police everything last night. "Miss Norr, can you elaborate on the information you gave the Police?"
    "I don't quite follow you." Miss Norr was perplexed.
    "I believe you do. Did you see something out of the ordinary, something trivial that you didn't bother to tell the authorities?"
    "Actually, I did tell them that I saw a strange woman leaving the restroom just before I discovered the girls. But since there wasn't anything on the surveillance system, the Police just brushed it off as a figment of my imagination."
    "Can you tell me what she looked like?"
    Miss Norr concentrated. "She was quite a head-turner. Believe me, you'll know her when you see her."
    "That's the second time someone said that." I turned off my minicomp. "Off the record, Miss Norr, do many Lawnsmore students shop here at the Dress Depot?"
    "Quite a number. I've even seen that Higgins girl today, right after school. She was with her mother, buying new blouses and bras."
    I smirked. "As well she should. G'day, Miss Norr."

8:22 p.m. I returned to the Tri-Corner mini-mall to perform a bit of surveillance. The mysterious assailant was given the name Bubble Bandit by none other than yours truly. Vince agreed it was a catchy headline for the evening paper. That's another little gem for my records.
    It was a reasonable assumption that the Bubble Bandit considered the mini-mall area his 'feeding ground'. My instincts told me that the Bandit would continue his predation on Lawnsmore students. The Police had the same idea, placing several plainclothes cops in the mall. My experienced eye saw them easily enough.
    After a few minutes of idle gazing I saw the indescribably beautiful woman that Miss Norr and Pamela Higgins have aptly labeled. Dressed in black boots, grey skirt, and a white blouse, this woman moved confidently across the mall. A girl, dressed in typically baggy jeans and T-shirt, appeared to waiting for her. Sensing that something was about to happen, I got up and started to follow at a discreet distance. The woman and girl walked side-by-side down a sidewalk, heading for a row of shops. In sync, the duo turned a corner, heading down a service alleyway.
    I walked up to the alley entrance, holding my camera in my left hand. Primed, I held out the camera, making sure that it could see down the alley. My minicomp's tiny screen showed a peculiar sight. The woman had the girl up against the wall. It looked as if they were kissing. At that moment I thought I was spying on a lesbian couple. Momentarily, though, my initial instincts was proven correct.
    The woman opened her mouth, barring teeth. Imagine my sunrise when I saw a pronounced set of fangs eager to bite into some flesh - they did. It was a brief affair, for in a moment I saw two small marks on the girl's neck. The bitten lass cooed delightfully.
    Inexplicably, the flash on my camera went off. Before I could curse my bad luck, a pair of hands latched on and pulled me into the alley. Naturally, I screamed in surprize. At least I got a real good look of the woman's face. No longer pretty, this woman looked possessed. She even hissed, her breath hateful and fowl. Desperate, I shoved my camera into her face and took a series of flash pictures. She clearly didn't like that, hissing and howling in pain. My camera kept taking pictures as the woman got off me and, suddenly, disappear.
    "Freeze, buddy! This is the Police!" That command made me still as a rock. "Okay," said the voice, "get up slowly with your hands on your head."
    Not wanting to have my chest ventilated, I stood up. The two men at the alley entrance were some of the plainclothes I saw earlier. "Good evening, officers. I'm glad to see you."
    One of the men guffawed. "Save it for the squad room, buddy. Your breast caper is over."
    These men had mistaken me for the wrong person. I wasn't the Bubbles Bandit. I looked behind me and saw the girl. Whoever was responsible for the buxom crime spree had added his fifth victim. Another teenage girl was sitting on the ground, cradling and caressing her newfound watermelon bust.

Detective Lybon sighed. "Sloboth, tell me your story again. Truthfully, this time."
    "I have told you. A woman bit Mandy Jordan. A rather beautiful woman in a grey skirt." Sam harumphed. "I find it hard to believe that the men you stationed at the mini-mall failed to notice her."
    "What have you been smoking, Sloboth? Rolled-up sheets of hardcopy plastic?" Lybon paced around Sloboth. "Your camera and minicomp showed nothing. Nothing with a capital N. My men saw you trailing Miss Jordan. There was no 'lady in grey' in any of the surveillance videos. My men did find you next to Miss Jordan, taking pictures. Building up your scrapbook, huh?"
    "I didn't bite her! I was photographing the woman that bit Miss Jordan. What proof do you want? Sam turned sarcastic. "Did I use a set of hollow incisors filled with Bubbles? Afterwards, did I swallow said incisors, which are at this very moment being destroying by my stomach acid? Why not pump my stomach and retrieve the evidence?"
    "Not a bad idea. I'll send for some ipecacs right now."
    "Wait. Before doing that, I will tell you what really happened. I was following Miss Jordan and the Grey Lady. They went into a side alley, and I observed them with my camera. The Grey Lady bit Miss Jordan, my camera accidentally flashed. A pair of hands pulled me into the alley and I screamed like this."
    The sound of Sam's scream startled everyone in the squad room. At that moment two people walked in. One was Sam's boss, Vince Clermont, the other Chief Benson. The Chief wasn't happy. "I hope you didn't cause that, Lybon. I don't want this department ending up in court. Sloboth isn't a suspect. Mandy Jordan was bitten by a woman."
    "Ah-Ha!" Sam rubbed his hands in glee. "At least part of my story was verified."
    "That's all your getting, Sam." Vince walked up to Lybon, handing him a piece of hardcopy print. "He's been released. If anyone is going to make Sam 'fall down some stairs' then it'll be me." Vince looked down at his beleaguered employee. "Come with me Sam, before Lybon finds a real reason to charge you."
    Sam got up in a huff. "If any of you has some sense, then you should know that your Bubbles Bandit is not an ordinary human being."
    Chief Benson's cold eyes stared at Sam. "Coming from you, Sloboth, those words are spoken from experience. Get out of my building."
    Not wanting to stay in the presence of such effrontery, Sam marched out of the squad room with his boss at his heels.
 

6

Vince read Sam's story. To his credit, Vince didn't crumple the hardcopy into an origami boulder. "Sam, the only thing that will beat you to the sanitarium is the bumper of the ambulance you'll ride. I can't print this! A female vampire targeting girls, biting them on the neck and causing their breasts to expand? Those occult files you've read have scrambled your brains."
    Sam rolled his eyes. "I know what I saw, Vince! The Police aren't telling the whole story."
    "When have they ever told the whole story?"
    "No joke, Vince. A supernatural creature is loose in this city. The sooner the Police accept that fact the better!"
    "The sooner you realize that this story won't be printed as-is the better! You've taken the Police line in the previous story. You even came up with the name 'Bubble Bandit'. Changing your theory in mid-stream?"
    "I worked with what I had at the time! Vince, this creature will continue its attacks until it is stopped. How many more girls will get enlarged if we waste our time talking? The public needs to be told."
    "Sam, it's late. I'm tired, irritable, and still unconvinced. Either write up the incident in an acceptable form or find other means of gainful employment."
    "Okay." Sam took the hardcopy out of Vince's clutches. "I'll do the rewrite, but under protest. Events will prove me right, you'll see."

Lawnsmore High School. The lunch lines formed as usual, but there was a huge knot of kids near the front. Pamela Higgins had an escort of boys that was bigger than some security detachments for visiting dignitaries. Each boy was determined to be of service, offering to carry Pamela's small backpack or to buy her lunch. If one looked closer, they would see the small mark of a hickey on each of the boys. Additionally, the boys looked and felt tired, as if they hadn't slept the night before. It was only their lustful thoughts of Pam's bosom that motivated them to say awake.
    Lian Junker took note of this activity as she settled at her table. At 190cm and 38F Lian was a study in tall womanhood. However, it was the combination of her height and modestly large bosom that made boys reluctant to ask Lian for dates. Boys were much more willing to date girls that just as tall, if not shorter, than they were. That goes double if the girl had a bosom over an E-cup.
    "Want some company?" Lian looked up, finding herself staring face-to-bosom at Vicky Bace, her friend. Lian tilted her head higher so she could see over Vicky's watermelons.
    "Sure, pull up a seat."
    Vicky sat down. She decided to place her blouse-covered lungs on the table instead of sitting an inordinate distance away. "Well, it looks like Pam will never be in want of boyfriends. Same thing goes for Kimberly and Erica. Mandy will have a following too when she gets released from hospital."
    Lian looked sheepishly down at her plate. "Yes, about boyfriends. I hope you didn't misinterpret what me and Kevin did. I knew he liked Roaner music, and I just so happened to have a spare ticket..."
    Vicky placed a consoling hand on Lian's shoulder. "Don't you worry yourself sick, girl. I've met Kevin earlier. Boy, he sure proclaimed his 'undying affection' now that I have boobs with a capital B!" Vicky's giggling caused gaps to appear between her blouse buttons. Lian wondered what prevented the blouse from utterly exploding open. "I forgive you, Lian. Why not come shopping with me at the Dress Depot after school? I'm in need of your clothing expertise." Vicky placed her hands on the sides of her breasts. "What would look better? A sweater with a v-neck or a tank-top held in check with body paste?"
    "You just don't know when to quit, do you?" Lian giggled.

There were times I wished I was a superhero. With powers greater than that of mortal men, I could beat up the bad guys and deliver them to the steps of Police Headquarters. Alas, I'm stuck with my body of flesh and blood. My spirit will have to make up for the difference.
    Vince wasn't going to help, so I sought the aid of a friend. This friend, Zory James, held the post of professor of ancient cultures at NDU. At the tender age of 210, Zory hardly looked a day over 70. I hope that I look half as good as her when I get that old.
    "Sam!" Zory got up from her huge polished desk. "Why is it that you only see me when you need my knowledge? A lady of my constitution needs special attention."
    Like a sly fox, I walked up to her and handed over a box of gift wrapped sweets and a cinnamon rose. "Zory, I must keep our encounters brief and infrequent, lest anyone gets the idea that we're having an affair."
    She pinched my cheek as if I was one of her many grandchildren. "Your sarcastic wit is best saved for naughty politicos. Now, sit your butt down and talk. You only come to me as a last resort." Like an obedient child, I sat and told Zory my theory. My evidence, what little there was of it, was also given. "Well," Zory steepled her fingers, "you've got yourself a real poser. Your critter is a demon that feasts on the sexual power of humans. Except this one has developed a special penchant for young girls."
    "Yes," I replied. "The affected girls have gathered quite a following of boys at Lawnsmore. I have a friend that works at the high school. She said that the boys closest to the girls act as if they've been deprived of sleep."
    "Then it has already happen. This demon is recruiting a group of girls to be her army of sexual energy collectors. Either by kissing, biting, or simply touching a boy, an affected girl collects the energy and holds onto it for a time. Then, at the demon's hiding place, the girls transfer energy to their 'mistress'. Only by doing this can the demon survive." Zory noticed my purposeful eyes. "I've seen that face before, Sam. You got yourself a hankering to go after this critter. You're the most unlikely demon hunter that one could imagine."
    "I'm not actively considering killing this thing. I need to know how to find and observe it. With enough evidence, my editor will give my story the front page."
    "Humph. You have courage enough to face down district attorneys and mob flunkies. But when the supernatural is involved, you need some tools." Zory opened a drawer in her desk. After a random bit of searching, she withdrew a small ruby. "This ruby is supposedly a charm that will inform the bearer of the presence of supernatural evil. When you're within 200 meters of an evil being the ruby is suppose to glow bright red."
    "Supernatural evil? If that thing worked for normal humans the first person I'll test it on would've been Detective Lybon."
    "Sam, has anyone told you that your sarcastic wit could melt walls? Too bad you can't use it on Miss Demon, but there is something that can defend you from her charm. The milk from a nurse of above-reproach conduct can burn her. If ingested, such milk can even kill her. The trick is getting her to drink the milk or on her skin."
    "Where am I going to get such milk? Better yet, are there any nurses that have above-reproach conduct in this city?"
    Zory looked at me whimsically. "You're in luck, Sam. Angelican wet nurses are as wholesome as you can get. Try your silver tongue on the nurses that work at the Emerson Children's Ward at Maryland Hospital. Knowing you, a suitable fib won't be hard to make."
    "A fib won't be needed, but my contact at the hospital will probably retire on the money I keep giving him."
 

7

July 18, 3:45 p.m. Judging by the location of the attacks, I've determined the demon had to be somewhere north of the Tri-Corner mini-mall. The businesses in that area have large storage buildings and underground warehouse facilities. Plenty of places for Miss Demon to hide and receive energy from her 'girls' safe from prying eyes. Wally came through with his usual panache, obtaining several small vials of mother's milk from an Angelican wet nurse. I hope he didn't spend all one hundred credits I gave him in one place.
    The ruby glowed an intense red as I approached a storage building for a sporting goods store. Armed with good milk, my guts, and camera, I snuck inside the building, both hoping and dreading what I would find inside.

Sam moved with the grace of a cat burglar. His minicomp has several unauthorized hardware upgrades, one of which was a security system detector. Thus equipped, Sam avoided many of the sensors and cameras employed by the security system. Making use of packing crates and support columns, Sam sneaked further into the building. The ruby's glow remained intense, but it became increasingly hot. Sam had to place it in his pocket, hoping his jack won't be set on fire. As he looked down at the floor he saw the outlines of a hatch. Since the ruby turned hot at that particular moment Sam decided that this was the spot. Hatch opened, he saw a ladder leading down to another level. Of course he went down.
    The lighting was low and red in color. The painted walls were smooth to the touch. Sam walked around room. Using his camera's viewer, he could see in fair detail the room's contents. A large open closet commanded part of one wall, while a dressing table with mirror held firm at another. A large bed took center stage. Someone was on the bed - a sleeping girl. Sam realized it wasn't the demon, nor was it one of her followers. The girl was rather tall and, thanks to the missing blouse, well breasted. For the girl to be like this, Sam knew that the demon found another follower. All it would take to bring her into the fold was to bite her. The Dress Depot would have a hard time filling orders for Angelican bras if the demon kept biting girls.
    Sam heard a commotion above him. A person was opening the hatch. Quickly, Sam ducked behind the dresser. Employing his innate ability to remain silent, the reporter listened intently. At least four people came down the ladder. Two of the arrivals wore sneakers. Thanks to the noisy footwear, Sam listened as the arrivals moved from the ladder and towards the bed.
    Feeling risky, Sam edged the video pick-up of his camera past the dresser mirror. With dexterous fingers, he turned on his minicomp. He could see what was happening in the room. The view made his eyebrows raise in excitement. The four arrivals were girls. Specifically, they were the first four girls attacked by the demon. Their watermelon chests stretched their collective tops with urgency. It was as if they were expecting something wonderful to happen. Then it came. Floating down from the ceiling was the demon, landing feet first at the front of the bed. Her teeth-baring grin could have easily come from a victorious jaguar.
    "My beautiful servants," the woman breathed sweetly, "I stand ready to receive your bounty of love. Open your hearts to me. Give of yourselves fully your sweet harvest."
    The four girls removed their tops. Sam remained detached, but noted that the exposed breasts had to be really firm, for the girls didn't wear bras. Squealing in ecstasy, the girls massaged their huge norks. The demon cooed and awed, opening her blouse and pushing out her comparatively small chest. Sam's mouth formed an O when he saw the demon's boobs blow up like carnival balloons. The twin globes of flesh kept expanding, inching ever closing to the girl on the bed. With a quiver the growth stopped, the breasts just centimeters away from smothering the prone lass. Mighty lungs as big as oversized beachballs made the demon look like a caricature of the female form. After transferring their energy, the four girls collapsed on the floor, exhausted. Still able to stand, the demon licked her lips and chortled. Her overinflated front gyrated in sympathy with her laughter.
    The whole scene felt weird. Sam expected a commercial break to appear. But this was no tri-dee drama. He kept watching. The demon moved her hands over her breasts as they shrank to mere cantaloupe proportions. Her formerly blocked horizon now clear, the demon peered down at the bed. "Ah, my servants have brought a new recruit." She moved to the girl's side and fondled the girl's tits. "Perfect flesh. You'll make an excellent collector of sexual energy. Like my servants, you, too, shall be bestowed with a bosom that will render men helpless as babes. Collect their energy for me to feed on. Be joyous and carefree with your enlarged assets." Fangs exposed, the woman knelt down.
    Sam acted. He flashed his camera, distracting the woman as he jumped out from behind the dresser. He threw a vial of milk at the woman. It missed, impacting against a wall. Hissing, the demon leapt towards Sam, pushing him harshly onto the floor. Knowing that the woman could easily rip out his throat, Sam flashed his camera in her eyes. She screamed, and Sam pushed the foul creature off of him. In his haste, he inadvertently crushed a milk vial in his hand. When the woman rushed him, Sam grabbed her forearm. Smoke sprouted from where his palm made contact with the demon's skin. Howling in pain, the woman withdrew like a wounded animal, snarling hatefully as Sam approached her with his milk-covered palm.
    The demon picked up her dressing table chair at threw it at the reporter. Sam dodged, but his moment of distraction allowed the demon to reach the ladder. Sam threw himself bodily at the woman, his palm making contact with her ankle. Howling again, the woman punched Sam in the gut. Falling onto his knees, Sam reached into his pocket, intending to get another vial. He didn't complete the task, for the woman willed her bosom to expand. Her mighty orbs pushed Sam flat onto the floor. Wickedly, the demon fell on top of Sam, pinning the reporter with the weight of her still growing breasts. Her cold hands wrapped around Sam's throat. It was clear that Sam would die from a lack of air unless he could get the woman off of him.
    With a mighty effort, Sam pulled out a milk-filled hypo from his jacket pocket. He got his arm free from the demon's crushing chest. The woman's eyes grew wide; she knew what was in the hypo. Sam slapped the hypo onto the breast before him and pressed the injection switch. The demon howled and cursed unearthly words as the wholesome mother's milk coursed through her body. Her breasts shrank rapidly, freeing the trapped reporter. Blood trickled out the corners of the demon's eyes and mouth. Her hands gripped the remnants of her once mighty breasts. Face contoured in pain, the demon gave one last shriek, then collapsed unceremoniously on the floor. She was dead.
    Sam took some photos and looked at the now empty hypo. "From now on I'll send flowers to the nurses of Maryland Hospital every Mother's Day and Christmas. Such blessed ladies should be thanked for their wholesome bosoms. In this case, milk has done my body good. I'm alive, after all."
 

8

City Hall, New Darwin. Sitting in the DA's office was Sam Sloboth. He was surrounded by people that could destroy him utterly. The owner of the New Darwin Herald, Belinda Kynes, sat next to Nadia Junker, the Police Commissioner. DA Andrew Tinn sat behind his desk, his patriarchal visage noncommittal. Chief Benson and Detective Lybon were standing. Sam swore he saw Lybon's literal doggy tail wagging.
    "You're in the stew, Slo-Mo." Lybon giggled with his eyes. "Not only do you face a murder charge, there's the photos you took of the bare-chested girls. I'll gladly finish whatever is left after Commissioner Junker is through ripping your guts out."
    Commissioner Junker stood up. At 190cm she was taller than everyone else in the room. For a lady that was 66 years of age, Nadia didn't look a day over 32. She could still rip out kidneys with the best of them. "But that won't come about, Mr Lybon. As long as Mr Sloboth plays ball there'll be no charges leveled against him."
    Lybon wore the look of a stunned penguin. "Commissioner! Sloboth admitted that he killed the woman! What about the photos he took of the girls? That has to count for something."
    "No in this case, Lybon. In fact, it is we who should thank Sloboth for solving this case. That woman wasn't on any database on Outback. I suspect that she isn't on any database, period. We literally had no clue."
    "Ah-ha," Sam announced, "I'm vindicated."
    Junker's cold glare silenced further crowing from Sam. "Wait your turn, Sloboth. Chief Benson, take Lybon outside and tell him what I'm about to tell Sloboth. I don't want the both of them in this room at the same time."
    "Understood, Commissioner." Chief Benson acknowledged. He guided Lybon by the arm through the door. Too bad it didn't hit Lybon on the way out.
    DA Tinn got up from his desk and handed Sloboth a sheet of plastic hardcopy. "Take it and read it, Mr Sloboth. This is what will be printed in Mrs Kynes' paper. An exclusive, with you as the reporter and 'protagonist'."
    Sam was a quick read. He was also quick with his fists, mashing the hardcopy into a ball. "Rubbish! This is a coverup! Why should I accept this?"
    "You have to accept it, Sloboth." Kynes' grey eyes made Sam flinch. He could never get use to her presence, both direct and indirect. "Your bit of vigilantism was repugnant. You had the opportunity to call the Police, yet you took matters into your own hands. Indeed, this demon could've killed you. Were I less charitable, I would've considered that no small loss."
    "Your concern moves me."
    "Good, you still have some fight in you. Your father would've approved. That's the only reason you're still in my employ. I keep my promises. Can you keep one?"
    "I'm listening."
    Junker took up where Kynes left off. Standing in front of Sloboth, Junker looked down at the seated man. Her still-proud basketball bust ever-so slightly expanded and contracted with her measured breathing. "That creature you killed had made several appearances before. Back in 2405 in New Britannia there was a series of unsolved cases where women had been bitten in the neck. It happened again in Perth in 2420 and Lysander in 2435. In each case the women, after a short period of time, turned to prostitution as a means of living. I daresay that this demon needed an awful lot of energy. By being street walkers, the 'girls' could collect their energy readily and not raise suspicion. Had it not been for you, the most recent batch of girls, including my daughter Lian, would've become prostitutes. For saving my daughter and the other girls from that fate, you have my thanks."
    Sam thought out his reply carefully. "What do you want me to agree to?"
    Junker bowed down a bit, looking Sam in the eye. The man didn't dare look at the bit of cleavage the woman showed. "Mrs Kynes is in agreement with us. That story we showed you will be printed, with your by-line attached. You discovered the 'Bubbles Bandit' as she attacked another girl, namely my daughter. You gave chase and called the Police. The Bandit was cornered in her underground lair. She was shot when she threatened the life of a police officer. Agree to this, Mr Sloboth, or else Mr Tinn himself will prosecute you to the fullest extent of the law. You're looking at first degree murder and the use of unregistered electronic stealth gear. If you're lucky, you may only spend the next 100 years in prison. Good thing you have prolong, so when you're paroled you'll have at least 150 years to learn a new trade."
    Sam looked at Kynes, but found no sympathy in that face. Tinn was practically begging for Sam to say no. Junker stood firm in both senses of the word. "On the whole, I would rather stay at the Herald. Someone has to make sure that Vince get his daily stomach ulcer."
    Junker smiled. "Good boy, Mr Sloboth. You've chosen well." Tinn handed her a minicomp and camera. "Here you go, Mr Sloboth. All images have been erased from memory. In fact, you got new memory cards. Any possibility of you reconstructing the images has been removed. We also took the liberty of 'recovering' the illegal electronics from your minicomp." Nadia's hand dipped in her front vest pocket. Out came three small strips of silver held in-between her fingers. She crushed the expensive electronic strips, the fragments falling to the floor like aircraft debris. "It wouldn't do having pictures of my unconscious daughter ending up on underground pornography nets. She is tall, slim, and naturally big bosomed. You're quite liberal when you pay your informants. I couldn't take the chance that you 'might' sell the photos to get some quick money. However, from what I know of you, that was very unlikely." Junker then spoke in a cold glacial voice, "If you do that, and I find out about it, your kidneys will be the only bodily remains anyone will find. Comprende?"
   Sam nodded firmly. Sensing that nothing could be gained by talking, he got up, retrieved his hat from the coat rack, and left.

So, that's the scoop. Commissioner Junker was fortunate that it was me covering the story. Any other reporter with less reputable intentions would've lost his kidneys and 'fallen down the stairs' a few times. Vince was sad that Old Lady Kynes allowed me to live. He should've been more charitable, considering the headline that I - no, Mrs Junker - gave him. The Bubbles Bandit cover story reassured everyone that the attacker was of this world and not some supernatural creature. The truth had to be buried to maintain order and stability. If you ask me, the world could do with some occasional shakes and rattles. Change is a good thing.
    As for the five affected girls, I can happily report that they've returned more or less to normal. They kept their new busts, much to the consternation of their parents, and gained a level of vivaciousness that few boys could match. Lian Junker has taken the girls under her wing, providing them with excellent clothing advice. The boys at Lawnsmore High School waited anxiously for October. Low-cut sweaters are traditionally worn by Outback sheilas in the fall. I know the girls won't disappoint the boys this year.
    One final word of advice for the ladies. The next time you're walking alone down a deserted alleyway and you see a beautiful woman approach, flash a light into her eyes and run. If not, then be prepared to spend hundreds of credits on a new wardrobe. As for shirts, you'll never be in want. The hordes of new boyfriends that'll vie for your affection would gladly offer theirs for free. Life has it moments
 
 

END

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