Ratings Advisory: The Earth Media Content Group has determined that this story can only be read by people above the age of 18. It contains subjects and situations that are suitable only for mature audiences. Parents with underaged children will need to activate their content-advisory programs now.
 

1: The Assignment

There was a knock from the old-style door to the office. The Chief saw two figures behind the clouded and vision-obscuring glass. He checked his wall clock. Right on time, he thought. "Enter."
    The door opened, squeaking on its hinges. The two figures entered one at a time. They were officers under the Chief's command. He motioned them to take a seat. He waited while the duo brought their seats closer to his desk. Quinnette Guthrie was 1.57 meters tall, 47 kilos, and had green eyes that contrasted with her short, black hair. Her partner, Roselynn Yates, was 19 cm taller, 8 kilos heavier, and her light brown hair was complemented by her equally brown eyes. They were both shapely if somewhat underdeveloped in the chest. The Chief had been in the police long enough to have seen everything. Had he been thirty years younger he would've tried to hit on them for a date. However, the duo was more than capable of ripping a man's kidneys out and showing them to him if he was a jerk. The Chief saw that happen to a number of his officers. Besides, he had been happily married since he was a recruit. He just saw two very capable and competent officers in front of him.
    The Chief cleared his throat. "Your punctuality is appreciated. I have received some news on the Aurelli case, and I believe we finally have the break we've been looking for." He saw the officers' hands ever so briefly knotted into fists. He couldn't blame them. Something like sex slavery shouldn't exist in the 25th century, but it did. Young women were being abducted and 'improved upon' by their captors. The resulting product (a disgusting but sadly appropriate description) was sold on a high-powered black market, often reaching into millions of credits. Getting information on the slavers was exceedingly difficult. The police were finally rewarded with the name and face of a certain Mr Anthony Aurelli. Aurelli, on the outside, was a businessman dealing with textiles and mining. On the inside he was one of the top sex slave suppliers to the mob. His public appearances were very infrequent. When he did appear he often had a shapely and well-endowed young woman around his arm. An informant in Aurelli's organization was finally able to smuggle out information, fingering Aurelli as the head of the slavery ring. The informant was unable to get the location of where the women were taken to be worked on and was found dead shortly thereafter. However, there was some information to work with.
    "Apparently the slavers are targeting young female colonists with prolong treatments. I image that this saves them the expense of providing prolong treatments. Women so treated can remain picture-perfect for thirty to forty years. The last 25 captures have been of such women and will likely continue. Both of you received prolong when you became cops and the treatment can be determined in a quick blood test. Plus your years of undercover work serves you in good stead. You both have the opportunity to back out of this assignment. I'll understand if you don't want to take it and I'll not hold it against you, but I do believe in your capabilities. Do both of you want any time to think it over?"
    Quinn spoke first. "I have no problem with the assignment. I want to get this guy."
    "Same for me, Chief," Rose said in reply.
    "Good to hear. These perverts had it too good for too long. Intel Central has worked up a set of the next probable places were the slavers will make their next captures. I admit it's a shotgun approach in dispatching the teams. Yours is but one of a dozen teams of undercover agents that will be deployed. Once a team is captured, the highest priority is to get the location of where they're holding the slaves at, along with said place's defenses. The SWAT people will do the rest. Report to Doctor Kregor this afternoon to get set up for your disguises. That's all for now."
    Rose and Quinn reached the door just as the Chief made an exclamation. "Oh, I almost forgot. The slavers also have another standard in selecting their women victims. In addition to being young and having prolong, they must also have large, shapely bosoms. Kregor has already whipped up a batch of nanites to augment your disguises."
    It was only the fact that the Chief spoke with a straight, deadpan face and with no hint of smirkiness in his voice that spared him the pleasure of seeing his kidneys displayed in front of him.
 

2: Checkup

Rose and Quinn have been partners for the last fourteen of their eighteen years in the New Darwin Police on the planet Outback. Nearly two-thirds of that time have been spent on undercover work. They've posed as bookies, fences for hot goods, prostitutes, gamblers, and various other criminal types. At least this time it will be something decent, Quinn thought, even though I'll be looking like a doll with a chest problem. Quinn sat in a chair in Doctor Kregor's office. The doctor, a grey-haired lady shorter even than Quinn, held a small hypo in her left hand. She went over to Quinn's left side.
   "Arm, please," the doctor said. Quinn rolled her sleeve all the way up to her shoulder. Kregor applied the hypo, a barely audible hiss came from it. She walked back to her desk to fetch another hypo and did the same to Rose, who was sitting next to Quinn.
    "That was the easy part," the little doctor said. "Now to get your implants checked out."
    Quinn rolled her sleeve back down and exhaled as she stood up. Though it was not possible, she imagined the microscopic-sized robots moving in her body. Invented in the 23rd century, nanites were considered the greatest single achievement in science. Carrying a god-awful amount of information in their tiny bodies, these machines were able to complete repairs in machinery that would otherwise be junked if they broke down. In manufacturing, nanites created alloys and fabrics hundreds of times stronger than was previously manufactured and used less material in the process. Surgeons used them to close tiny holes and tears in organs, saving many a patient. And they had one more function � body sculpting. Given time, nanites can turn an unattractive person into a very attractive person. Quinn could see the usefulness in removing an unsightly scar or mole, but in her mind the most often 'modified' part of the human body was breasts, preferably female. Flat-chested to a shapely C-cup (using the old measure) she could understand, but to go to sizes that only a zero-g environment could handle was letting things get way out of hand.
    Quinn took one last look at her chest. Her B-cup top will no longer stay that way. In five days she'll be a proud D-cup for God and drooling man to see. On Rose a D-cup will look good, but on Quinn's smaller frame they'll look exotic. Her disguise also called for her to wear an archaic pair of glasses. Glasses were no longer used functionally, thanks to nanites being able to reshape the lenses of the eye. Glasses had come back as a fashion accessory, and on Quinn they made her bug-cute. She was also letting her hair grow long to complete the disguise. Some of the nanites injected into her have been tasked to change her hair color to a light blonde. The rest will be concentrated in the breasts. The enlargement occurred as the nanites scavenged the bloodstream for fat, the primary building material. The fat was reshaped and modified, holding tiny bubbles of air, and place next to arteries. The fat then picked up as much air as it could hold and the resulting volume was increased by a factor of twenty. The nanites also added new branches of nerves, arteries and veins to serve the new flesh. The resulting breasts were lighter, frimer, and taut than one would suspect. Once reaching the desired programmed size, the nanites maintained the breasts' firmness, ensuring that they wouldn't sag.
    Quinn walked over to the examination table and lay flat on it. Kregor activated a panel and selected a scanner function. The ceiling above the table slid open to reveal what looked like a mirror. It was, however, a sophisticated medical scanner that looked into Quinn's body. She turned to face the doctor who tapped a finger on the screen. "All of your microbiotic, drug neutralization and stimulation sacs are full. Humm... your contraceptive sac checks out; still full." She winked at Quinn, making her face slightly sour. "Have you seen your boyfriend lately?" the doctor added nonchalantly as she continued the examination.
    "I've haven't seen him for six months now, Doc, and I wouldn't dream of cheating on him," Quinn said in a voice that made it clear that the discussion was over. Rose was not of that opinion.
    "Besides, if Derek did cheat on you, Quinn, he knows he'll never get his music collection back. And if he did show his face, his kidneys wouldn't be the things shown to him." Rose said, quickly ducking down to feign a miss against an imaginary shoe.
    Quinn made a small grimace. Unlike Rose, who seemed to have a boyfriend on every block in New Darwin, Quinn had a difficult time keeping a boyfriend. Part of that was from being a cop, especially an undercover cop. Odd hours, danger, violence when busts turned ugly and frankness were all things that didn't make for stable, long-term relationships. That changed when she ran into Derek, a friend from way back in elementary school. They had gone their separate ways after high school: Quinn to college and police academy, Derek to the Space Navy and deep-space survey missions. They kept in contact by mail and the infrequent face-to-face visits. The last one almost had Derek saying the M word to Quinn, and she wished that he had. Being a cop was getting more wearisome. Undercover work had always been hazardous. She'd had her share of cuts, stabs, and bruises during her career. The wonders of nanite surgery ensured that no blemishes and scars remained, but scars did form on her conscience and soul.
    I'm getting tired of having second-rate punks and people having things to prove cutting me up and shooting me, she thought. I don't want to end up an embittered old salt, jaded from my work. I'll make sure he says yes next time. I'd rather be the wife of a survey officer with a family than an emotionless robot going through the motions of work.
    Kregor interrupted Quinn's thoughts. "It looks like your wetware is in great shape. I still want to make sure your secondary input/output data channels are functioning. Stand by." The doctor activated a few more controls and Quinn felt a familiar sensation in her mind and thought. Wetware, as it was called, was the latest development of nanite manufacturing. Microscopic circuitry, built by nanites in the host body, was applied to the brain and key nerves. The circuitry's mostly concentrated in the brain, forming connections to all the sense-perception sections. Wetware is able to hold vast amounts of information, performing calculations as fast as any mainframe computer. The data gathered by the senses were magnified and analyzed by the wetware. After performing its analysis, the resulting information was made available to the host by projecting it as a mental 'picture'. Wetware's extremely useful. One could be naked as a jaybird and never be concerned about forgetting anything or write it down. Data could also be received and transmitted through the air with special receptors in the ears, head, and the palms of the hands. One could hold such an enhanced palm over a data sensor and be able to extract or input data into the connected computers. Quinn once drove a truck by placing her palm over the cab-installed bio-sensor; willing the truck to turn, accelerate and come to a stop. Being able to remotely manipulate machines, computers and stay in contact with similarly-equipped cops appealed to Quinn. A micro-sized communicator could be picked up by a bug sensor; however the only way to find out if a person had wetware or other implants installed was to cut them open. Wetware was very, very hard to detect and only then if you knew what to look for.
    Practical wetware had only been available for the last ten years and wasn't generally known. Most people thought it was still going through testing to ensure it wouldn't make people go "bonkers" or any other similar unpleasantness. The military and police were employing it in limited numbers, using the field-generated reports to refine the technology. Quinn and Rose had wetware implanted only two years ago and both wondered how they were able to do their jobs without it. Quinn's mental woolgathering stopped as she felt her nipples harden and protrude. The secondary data channels the doctor mentioned are working, Quinn thought. Some sex-starved biotechnician thought it would be a great idea to add some more redundancy to the receptors. In the remote possibility that the hands, ears, and even the skin on the head containing the receptors were gone, the so-equipped agent could still send and receive data with receptors built into the nipples. Quinn's irritation about that was mitigated somewhat by the fact that men had the same thing apply to them. The nipples need not be erect for the receptors to function, but Quinn couldn't help but think of them of being miniature radio towers when in use.
    "All done, Quinn. Sorry about that; just an automatic response, I image." Kregor looked apologetic and Quinn took it at that. Rose seemed a bit smirky as she came over and lain on the table. "Let's see if it happens to you, Miss Happy Chest," Quinn announced as she sat down and waited for her friend's exam to be completed.
 

3: The Capture

Six weeks later the duo was inbound to New Idaho, a colony only five years old and still growing. Their cover stories had them as women  joining their fiancées permanently. Quinn played the part convincingly, drawing from her own experience with Derek. Rose, however, took a few liberties with her interpretation of her character.
    Quinn grimaced as she remembered how Rose flirted with the male passengers and even the crew. She likes this assignment too much, Quinn thought, and the odds of us being picked up by the slavers aren't that great. If she's trying to get any slaver agent's attention, though, she's doing a heck of a job. What man couldn't resist that body and the energy she has, not to mention mine? The two were in their cabin, small but serviceable, on the transport Hammock. Both wore nightshirts and were preparing to go to sleep. Rose finished her nails while Quinn put away her hairbrush. Rose fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow; the snoring started only five minutes later.
    No wonder she has so many boyfriends; they couldn't take the sound of sawing logs for long. Quinn turned in and tuned out the offensive noise. She found the additional volume of her enlarged breasts a little awkward at first, but as with everything else she adjusted to them quickly. Just as Rose seemed to radiate the 'come hither' look, Quinn's body language said 'stay back or else'. The dense among the male passengers on the ship quickly learned not to force themselves on her or even look at her the wrong way. She could see how her bug-cute face and shapely figure could make even a rational man lose control. It takes a strong man not to act on natural urges. Quinn made one last check in her mind. OK, the ship is only three days out from New Idaho. The slavers always take their captives no less than one day from their destination or just two hours after landing. So if anything is going to happen it'll have to be soon. With that she made herself enter the realm of dreams.
    Quinn recalled a wonderful dream as she woke up. She was in a long satin-fabric dress that showed much of her new cleavage, her hair flowing in the wind. Derek was there, bare chested, sweeping his woman into his arms. Quinn recalled as far as the passionate kissing as she reached for her nightstand. It wasn't there.
    What the heck? Where is it? Quinn opened her eyes, realizing that this place wasn't her cabin. It looked like a dormitory room with two rows of double-bunks with the total of twenty beds. All the other beds were occupied. Quinn looked around some more. She noticed some standard ship-board emergency lockers. At least it was a ship, even though its not the Hammock. The slavers had to have an agent on board and slipped us some knock-out drug, either in the air or food. And that dream may have been the result of a slaver picking up and carrying away my limp body. She shuddered at the thought of an oily slaver carrying away her unconscious form. Quinn noticed that her timepiece was missing, even the biochemical skin watch that she had tattooed on her left forearm was gone as well.
    Seeing as much as she could from her bed Quinn decided to find Rose and have a look at the people around her. Quinn quickly saw that the other people were all women, approximately the same physical age as her. She found Rose and shook her awake.
    "Whoa, where's the fire?" Rose sputtered out.
    "We're in it deep, Rose. The slavers have captured us. We're on their ship. We couldn't have been out for longer than a day, though."
    "Yeah, I can vouch for that. I'm hungry and have to use the can also." Trust Rose to get the basics quick.
    The other women woke up. Except for Rose and Quinn, the women wore the same kind of knee-length nightshirt. Six of the other women were caucasian, three black, four asian, three slavic and the last two arabic in origin. They also were quite beautiful and full figured, just what the slavers liked. Another little piece of information occurred to Quinn. Half of the women were as tall if not a little taller than Rose; the other half were as short as herself. Seems like these jerks also like to have two distinct body heights, Quinn thought. Good thing me and Rose fit that requirement too.
    Rose also looked on and eyed the women. I wonder if any of the others are undercover police agents? I guess there is only one way to find out. Rose closed her eyes, telling her wetware to send out a identification signal pulse. A moment passed, two... Only Quinn sent back a reply. I guess that settles it. Looks like it's me and Quinn until we reach the slaver base, wherever that is.
    Before too long a hatch opened up and two burly men entered. The other women stepped back in reasonable anxiousness. Rose and Quinn feigned fear. The men pointed their forefingers at the duo and motioned them to come along. The duo mousily followed the first man with the second behind them in case they tried to bolt. The group stopped at what had to be the ship's infirmary. The lead man motioned the duo through the hatch.
    A short, bent-over little man sat behind a desk. Apparently he was the ship's doctor. "I imagine you two would like to relieve yourselves. The toilet is behind that hatch there." He waved a hand toward a hatch behind him. "Be sure to save me a urine and stool sample. The appropriate containers are in there. If you don't I'll be very displeased." The doctor tried to put some menace in his words, but he sounded like a librarian instead. Humoring the doctor, Quinn and Rose did what he said.
    "Thank you for following instructions. If you continue to cooperate, the examinations will be over in no time." The following exams were almost the same as the ones performed by Kregor but for one important fact: he didn't look for implants. To be sure, the contraceptive implant was as obvious as hell, but the medical sacs wetware were invisible to the scans. He obviously wasn't going to cut them open to see if they had that stuff inside them. Quinn and Rose were relieved; they had passed the first and most dangerous hurdle � initial discovery. Their survival and overall chance of success have risen ten fold. They continued their lost and innocent act and made the appropriate gasps as the little doctor examined their nether regions in detail. Probably his only way to get his jollies up, the dirty old man, Rose and Quinn thought in unison.
    The doctor finished his exams and jotted down some words on a message pad. He instructed the duo to change into a fresh pair of underwear and nightshirts. Quinn hated to lose her favorite nightshirt, a gift from Derek, but she had no other option. With them now freshly attired, the doctor pressed a button. The main hatch opened and the two men who escorted them earlier entered the room.
    "Tell the boss these two check out fine. Take them back to the others and serve them all dinner." The doctor gave a dismissive wave of the hand and turned back to his desk. The men motioned to the two to follow them.
    "They don't talk much, do they?" Rose said to no one in particular.
    "And they say even less," Quinn added. In a short time they came back to the dorm room. Dinner was basic but filling. The two talked to the other women. None of them came from the Hammock. Most of them were from other transport ships headed for other colony worlds. All of them were scared and fearful. As much as the duo wanted to help they knew that the best chance of saving these women was to stay in their cover story and play the part convincingly. These slavers have to think they have two frightened women, alone and beyond any hope of rescue. Not long afterwards the hatch opened and a man dressed in an all-black business suit entered. His hair was slicked backed over his head and his whole body emanated a sense of creepiness. After taking a measured look at the group of women he spoke.
    "I'm called Alan, and life as you know it is over. Tomorrow morning this ship will have reached its destination and your new lives will begin. Do what you're told and the rest of your lives will be spent in luxury and comfort such as few people have experienced. Fail to do so and you will experience less comfort and even less time to enjoy it." With that he left the room. After hearing all that, Rose thought, that's good. Do you write your own material? Some of the women were numb with disbelief, others had tears in their eyes when they realized that they were really never going home again.
    Quinn had some of those feelings too. Even with all of her training and abilities she couldn't help but think that there was a real possibility of her never getting back to Derek. Rose sensed this and squeezed Quinn's arm reassuringly. "Don't you agree that Alan creep would make a fine host either on an alternative music show or a monster movie channel?"
    Quinn turned and faced her partner. A sly grin was on her face as she replied. "Oh, he will make a great Count Barney on the Theater of Blood Midnight Show." Both chuckled a little and tried to get as much restful sleep as they could. They wanted to be fresh for what tomorrow will bring.
 

4: Processing

The slaver ship came to a stop in a docking bay. A few minutes later a large cargo hatch opened and a ramp extended. The women, still clad only in their nightshirts and panties, were marched off single file toward an entryway leading away from the bay. Quinn noticed that her weight was a little less than normal and her step had more spring to it. That could mean we're on a planet with a less-than-normal earth gravity or on a space station or asteroid with the gravity generator working at less than full power, Quinn noted to herself. The procession then came upon a hatch marked with a red cross. The sickbay, I guess. They must want to double-check the ship's doctor's findings.
    Quinn's concern proved to be unfounded. There was a man in the room, flanked by two other men in lab coats. The first man fit Aurelli's description to a T. All three were in discussion when the women arrived. A minute later they stopped. Aurelli looked like a well-preserved grandfather, or great-grandfather for that matter. Quinn looked at him warily, taking in his full measure. Hard to believe from looks alone that this guy could be a criminal, but it sure makes him more sinister in some way. Aurelli looked at each woman in turn, eyeing them carefully and whispering to one of his attendants. He only touched four women, including Rose, on the shoulders. The attendant to Aurelli's right made some extra notes into his computer pad, seemingly related to the four women. Aurelli then at last spoke loud enough for everyone to hear.
    "That will be all for now; take these women to their quarters."
    Two additional men entered the room. Both were well over two meters in height and thickly muscled. Like the two brutes on the ship they motioned the women to follow them. Resigned, they followed for a good five minutes. Then the group stopped in front of two large doors. They opened and a wave of fragrant smells assailed the women's nostrals. Rose thought she entered a perfume shop and nearly lost her balance. The muscle men waved the women to enter. The room was colored in light peach and had several sitting pits in the floor. Large, primary-colored sitting bags were in those pits. Quinn moved around the massive room, passing the doors along most of the multi-walled area. Most of them lead to bedrooms. Quinn could see they had quite large beds and must be very comfortable and soft. Each room also had a tiny wet bar, a small bathroom, and a closet that could easily be made into a four-room apartment, complete with a four pane mirror.
    Rose made her own investigation. Only two doors led to rooms that were not bedrooms. One was some sort of communal bathroom complete with a pool-sized bath with running water, showers, a steam room, and jacuzzi. The other was an electronic entertainment theater. She tentatively linked into the equipment, but soon realized that the machines were self-contained and not plugged into this place's central computer. So much for that idea. It would have been funny to access their main computer via a movie player, Rose thought. Shrugging her shoulders, Rose left the room and rejoined Quinn.
    The other women were looking into the rooms and deciding which would be theirs. Rose noted how much more relaxed they seemed. There's a mood-altering drug in the air. My wetware recognized it and tapped one of my implant sacs to release a counter-agent. If this continues for a few months, though, I'll run out of the counter-agent and be in permanent bliss. How lovely. Rose reached out and held hands with Quinn. The receptors in the hands made contact. Their wetware went to work and they "spoke" to one another..
    It looks like a shot straight from one of those old flat-screen adventure movies, Rose "said". Some of those decoration edges are in gold, even platinum. They certainly spared no expense in making this a comfortable bird cage.
    Quinn nodded and pulled Rose along into what would be her room. She showed her the closet and Rose let out a low whistle. The garments were quite luxurious. Some of the skins and furs came from animals on the controlled species list and were illegal as hell. Rose could not help stroking a coat made of Jameson Wolf fur, her hands feeling the unreal softness of the pelt. Still holding hands, Quinn sent a message to Rose. That's for the whole body. Just take a look at what they expect us to wear on top.
    They let their hands go and Rose inspected what Quinn was pointing at. It was a collection of halter tops. Rose tried one on and found it was not quite a fit, still a little loose. Then then noticed that the fabric was stretchable, quite stretchable. To round it out she saw that the majority of the tops were of this type.
    "I guess our chests aren't quite big enough for them. Want to bet when they'll inject new nanites to inflate them?"
    "Five will get you ten it'll be by the end of the week." Quinn sighed and look down at her chest, wondering how much larger it would get. Hopefully not as large as those zero-gee performers. They have to live in zero gravity all the time.
    "I say three days. They'll want to 'fatten us up' soon as possible." Rose smirked and left Quinn to work her way through the closet completely, hoping that there was at least something she could wear right away.
 

5: Fattening Up

Quinn gave a satisfied moan as the masseur worked on her lower back. It was three weeks since the women arrived at their new 'home' and things had proceeded briskly. Two days after arrival the women were seen by a group of doctors. They took the standard body measurements and some body-structure scans. Shortly thereafter they gave a brief gamma-radiation flash to each woman's chest. This flash killed all the nanites maintaining the breasts. Quinn imagined her nanites doing their version of the dead bug drill, with legs flailing in the air. She did have some sympathy in their passing. They were doing their jobs and deserved better than what they got. The doctors then applied a hypo to each woman. New nanites entered the bodies and eagerly began their work.
    Quinn rolled over and lay on her back. The masseur was now working on the thighs. Quinn knew the masseur wouldn't let himself get aroused by his work. Indeed, this masseur, Toby, and this two co-workers, Gunther and Mongo, were eunuchs. Quinn imagined that they were mob members that fucked up in such a way that rated a form of living death. This had the effect of a powerful warning to others as to what would happen to them if they failed. They would become a stooge that was immune to sexual advances. Toby stopped for a moment to apply a liberal amount of oil to his hands and then picked up where he stopped. His customer could not help but to let go with another soft, pleasure-induced moan.
    Quinn opened her eyes and looked at her growing breasts. Breast-enlarging nanites typically added no more than one centimeter per day to the bust. However, the slavers gave the women a fat-rich diet. Fat that would otherwise end up in the hips was greedily collected by the over-zealous nanites and worked on. The nipples remained the same size, but now looked like small buttons compared to the breasts. Quinn figured her bust now measured 111 centimeters, and that wasn't the only change. The bottoms of her feet still had callouses, but the rest of her bare skin was baby soft and smooth. Her hair was turning to a more yellowish blonde and now hanged halfway down her back. Some nanites were tasked to change her skin color. The process wasn't complete, but she guessed her final hue would be an amber brown. Combined with her blonde hair, green eyes, and fashion glasses she'd look intoxicating. Judging by her wardrobe her bustline had several dozen more centimeters to go. Rose promised to have an even larger chest in relation to Quinn and she was looking at having light pink skin with no blemishes.
    Toby finished his work and handed over a towel. Quinn accepted it thankfully and wrapped it around her frame. She walked walked slowly towards the steam room. A nice, fifteen-minute steam before bed was becoming one of her guilty pleasures. It's keeping me in character if nothing else, she thought.

One week later. Rose wiped sweat off her forehead and then launched a particularly powerful delivery on the volleyball court. The slavers also believed in keeping their captives physically fit, no doubt to build their endurance for love-making. Rose noted in addition to volleyball and other team sports the women were also made to run five kilometers a day and perform toning exercises. Jasmine, a black women as tall Rose herself, returned the serve in spectacular form. Her PT tee-shirt clung to her sweat-soaked bust and her shorts were a size too small. Rose noted that Jasmine's skin was now so dark that it took on a shade of purple under some lights. Rose looked at her now pink skin, looking like someone took a crayon to her. She was certain people were watching these games just to ogle at breasts and bottoms as the women played.
    You creeps just keep doing that. That'll be the only thing you'll have to remember when you rot in jail, if you're even that lucky. Rose adjusted her footing, not bothering to look at her feet since her bust rendered them a distant memory. If they keep growing at this rate I'll won't be able to play volleyball, even at this reduced gravity. I wonder what I'll be doing when that happens? Her eye caught a blur. She raised her hands and returned a delivery with energy. The ball was going too fast to be intercepted. It was the winning point and the two teams headed for the showers. Like Jasmine, Rose's tee-shirt was clinging to her breasts. She worked off the shirt just as she entered the dressing room. Now for a shower and the usual fat-rich dinner. At least the steaks are real and the wine a good vintage. Rose finished stripping and greedily accepted the warm shower water.

The next day Quinn and Rose were in the steam room. They were certain that they're being monitored and decided not to speak. However, they did use their receptors. To any observers they were either very close, trusting friends or lesbians by the way they moved their hands over their bodies. For the duo it was the only way to safely talk to one another.
    Rose moved one hand over one of Quinn's nipples while the other made circles on the smaller woman's back. The receptors activated and the duo started to communicate.
    Any luck in finding a terminal? Quinn threw back her head in fake ecstasy.
    Rose, still maintaining a hand on the nipple, now moved her other hand to massage Quinn's thighs. Nada. Just stand-alone, simple-minded electronics. This is not going to work if we can't access their computers.
    Tell me about it. They're really paranoid about having a conventional spy in their fold. Besides, why would a sex slave need access to a computer anyway? Our days are filled with exercises, lounging, eating, and generally just standing while those guys look at our busts. One thing does disturb me, though.
    What's that, Quinn?
    Sooner or later these creeps will want to take us on a 'test drive'. They gave us a full set of immunizations for venereal diseases two days ago. That can only mean they're getting us ready for sale. They're getting us prepared in other ways too. The other women are now so conditioned they'll do anything they're told. At times I forget that I'm on a mission.
    Rose gave a short squeeze on Quinn's knee. Don't sweat it, baby. You'll know what you have to do when the time comes. Derek expects his girl to come home in one piece. I'll do my part to see that happens but most of it will be your job. Understand?
    Quinn smiled at the thought. Thanks for the encouragement. It's about time we went to bed. Lets give those leches their money's worth. She motioned toward the direction to where she thought the surveillance camera was. One fake climax to go. Ready?
    I was born ready, partner! Rose and Quinn moved their hands to the appropriate positions. They molded their bodies to display ecstasy at the moment of their 'climax'. If any male was watching that he should be sitting in a puddle now, Quinn thought wickedly as the duo wrapped towels around their respective bodies and headed for their night's rest.
 

6: Test Drive

It was now seven weeks since the arrival. Quinn was having her nails done by a woman servant. She was matronly in appearance and could easily have been someone's grandmother. Quinn gave up trying to figure out how this woman ended up working for the slavers. Perhaps she started out like the other women. When she got too old they made her into a matron to prep and preen the next generation of living dolls.
    Quinn diverted her eyes to her own clothing. She was wearing what was someone's idea of a harem outfit. Her feet wore soft slipovers made from several layers of reinforced silk and satin. The pants had a solid bottom and front, but the legs were transparent, billowy and soft. Her midriff was bare. On each wrist and around her neck was a ribbon laced with gold and fine gemstones. Her hair was put through a rounded hairclasp and fell like a pony tail onto her left shoulder. She also had a vest on but it was not buttoned up and couldn't be closed even if she wanted to. A halter top containing her now massive breasts finished the piece.. They were at least 50% bigger than basketballs, she reflected. Over half of each breast was exposed, the halter barely coming up to cover the comparatively tiny areolae completely. The nanites were working overtime to keep them firm and proud. The slavers stopped serving the women the fat-rich diet three days ago but Quinn knew that her bust still had several more centimeters to grow.
    She looked at the other women in the living area and noted how massive they were. Two of them, Monika and Ilsa, were still struggling to fit into their halter tops. Rose and three other tall women had been taken away a two week ago. Their breasts were much larger than the others and were probably even bigger now. Quinn could only hope Rose was OK.

Someone is going to pay for this. In jail or being suffocated by breasts. Rose thought, grunting as she turned over in the zero-gee 'Pillow Room'. The only way she could see her lower body was in a full-body mirror. Her breasts were now larger than beach balls. The slavers stopped serving fat-rich food two days ago, but Rose was certain that her breasts would easily grow an additional twelve centimeters, if not thirty. She stretched out her arms and yawned, and then moved her hands down her massiveness. She could barely reach her nipples, let alone make her hands meet in the middle. I bet at least Quinn can still interlace her fingers in front of her. She still gets to wear 'normal' clothes while all I have is silky soft panties.
    Rose regarded the other three women in the pillow room. One of them was Jasmine, one of the black-skinned women. She was sleeping soundly in one of the padded, secured couches on the ceiling. Niz, an arabic beauty with golden-brown skin that seemed to glow, was massaging her enormous mounds. Bethany, her skin the color of bronze, was doing deep-breathing exercises, her bosom rising and falling like a soap bubble. Rose carefully moved down one wall and grabbed a soft hand hold on the floor. She moved back into the thick, sinfully-soft carpeted wall. The customers will be arriving soon.
    The door to the pillow room opened and four men entered. They were all in pajamas and were deciding which woman would be their pillow for the night. One man, Aurelli himself, chose Rose and launched himself softly in her direction. Rose saw this and maneuvered her bosom to receive him. His head entered Rose's massive cleavage and stopped. He turned himself around and rested his head between her mounds of breast flesh. Rose wrapped her legs around Aurelli's middle to secure him. I could easily crush the wind out of him with my thighs and suffocate him in no time if I wanted to. Luckily this bastard talks in his sleep, and repeats himself. Fourteen days from now the buyers will be here. If only I can send out a message! A frontal marine assault now would be better than a proper SWAT assault later. Rose made herself more relaxed and closed her eyes.
    What Aurelli said in his sleep earlier could go a long way to get the gallows ready for him. Making women into living pillows and bed dolls should've ended centuries ago. I'm lucky that I'm a pillow, she thought. The other sixteen girls will have a tougher time of it. I hope you have better luck, Quinn, 'cus it looks like I'll be in this room for the duration. Rose made a final check of her wetware, insuring that it would record what Aurelli would inevitably say in his sleep and prevent her from snoring, and cycled herself down to the realm of dreams.

The next day had the other sixteen women all lined up in the common living area. They were all dressed up like Quinn earlier. Their halter tops seemed to be at the breaking point with each breath they took. Quinn wondered what dog and pony show they'd be put through this time. Yesterday it was a skimpy bikini contest; last week it was fast-paced exhibition dancing. Her contemplation stopped as a troop of men entered. Eighteen in all, fifteen looked like they came straight out of a men's fashion magazine. Aurelli, Toby, and Alan (the creep from the transport ship) made up the remainder. Aurelli cleared his throat.
    "In less than two weeks a group of men will arrive. Each of you will be chosen by a man to go back with him. These men are very rich and can guarantee a life of wealth and luxury for each of you. Before they arrive you'll be trained to pleasure them fully and completely." Aurelli motioned to the fifteen men next to him. "These men will do that training. Perform well." With that Aurelli motioned the men to choose a woman. In a minute the resulting couples retired to the bedrooms.
    Quinn wasn't selected and felt very uneasy as Alan eyed her. Ohmygod. Does he know I'm a cop? Despite her control on her facial muscles a bead of sweat formed on Quinn's forehead.
    Aurelli smiled at the little woman. "Don't fret, my lass. Alan here has served me well over the years. He made a request that I can easily fulfill. You're going to be prepared by quite a powerhouse. However, if he breaks you up then I'll have no choice but to break him." Aurelli waved a finger in front of Alan, tasking him to be careful. "She's yours for the next fourteen nights. Take care."
    "Don't worry boss. I don't intend to end up like Toby here." Alan moved towards Quinn purposefully. She felt a mix of relief and tension. Good, they don't know, but I knew that this would happen. The only man I was intimate with was Derek, and this thing walking towards me is a monster all but in name. The top of Quinn's head didn't reach Alan's shoulders. From his vantage point he had a commanding view of Quinn's bust. She lowered her head meekly but Alan placed a finger under her chin and moved her head up.
    "Don't be so shy. This will be a wonderful night. To the bed, then?" Alan moved his right arm around her slim waist, his hand ending up in front of her right breast. Quinn mentally gagged at the sensation. The couple walked to Quinn's room. It was only 8 p.m.
    It was 3 a.m. before Quinn voluntarily opened her eyes. Alan was sound asleep next to her. Thankfully his arms were no longer wrapped around her body. Quinn still shook a little after the workout she had received from Alan. This guy is a sex beast. No sense of balance and flow. Totally unlike Derek. At the thought of Derek's name Quinn produced a tear. Of all the places in the universe she would rather be with Derek now more than ever. She stilled her tears and massaged her sore thighs and stomach. Alan was unrelenting in his penetration and thrusts. She had thought she would die after each one. It'll take an extra-long session with Toby to work out the soreness in my muscles, she thought. About to let loose with another tear Quinn saw a small red light on the nightstand next to the bed. She opened her eyes wider and peered closer. It was a wrist com, the same one Alan was wearing earlier.
    An active wrist com.
    Quinn held her breath, not daring to believe. Slowly exhaling, she ventured an open palm towards the com. Her hand closed firmly around it. Concentrating with utmost care, she commanded her wetware into action. It sent an interrogation/spy program into the communications circuits. A second later it entered the computer net proper. The program performed its function well, setting off no alarms or security routines. In five minutes the program reported back to Quinn's wetware and promptly erased itself. Had the wetware even the slightest amount of self-awarness it would have remarked that the slavers had a very good security set-up for their money. However, a security system is only as good as the people operating it.
    In a flash the wetware configured a changeling program and entered it into the slaver's computer net. This program was designed to take over and run the network it had penetrated. It still operated the same way as the old network but with one very significant difference. Provided she took care with her commands Quinn could now order the network to do her bidding, overriding all other inputs. Quinn was too tired to feel victory. Later, but not now. She ordered her wetware to prepare a comprehensive report on the slaver base for her viewing in the morning. Her thoughts returned to her immediate situation.
    God preserve me, I got to last long enough to see this through. She looked at Alan one last time and couldn't help but shudder at the thought of doing him for the next thirteen nights. With that Quinn willed herself into a deep slumber.
 

7: Complication

Finishing her 5-kilometer run, Quinn slowed to a measured walk and collected her breath. Sweat made her T-shirt cling to her bouncing bust, revealing every curve and valley. She wasn't concerned with that as she went through the data her wetware collected the night before. She now knew where 'here' was: it was an asteroid, roughly the same size as Juno, located in the Cache system. There were no habitable planets at Cache, but it did boast an extraordinary rich asteroid belt. Aurelli's mining interests had finished with this asteroid and had it converted into a slaver base. The asteroid also boasted defenses to slap down a police ship. However, a serious attack could take out this rock and the slaver boss knew it. There were several escape ships located throughout the place. If things went bad Aurelli and his friends could always escape in a souped-up ship and leave his flunkies to fight a rearguard action.
    Quinn walked an additional lap and then headed for the locker room. As she undressed for the showers she saw another woman already taking one. Her immense breasts were bigger than beachballs yet she was still able to stand upright. Quinn knew it was due in part to the gravity generator working at a lower setting. Also the flesh of the breasts was lighter due to the work of the nanites. Yet Quinn couldn't help but think the woman had inhaled a whole tank of helium. Only after taking her eyes off that chest did she see whose head was attached to the body.
    Rose! What have they done to you? You're huge! Quinn used her wetware, now knowing that the slavers' surveillance system couldn't pick up its signals.
    Rose replied with mock seductiveness. For starters stop looking like a slack-jawed troglodyte. You know the old saying � 'Looking is for free, touching will cost you'. She then changed her tone to a more serious one. If you remember all those weeks ago me and three other women were singled out by Aurelli. We became living pillows while all the others became more or less like you. Rose motioned towards Quinn's own expansive bust. Since we're talking like this can I assume you broke into the computer system?
    Yes I did, and I'll fill you in while we're in the shower. Quinn walked into a warm spray and lathered herself up. She giggled mentally when she visualized Rose needing a whole bar of soap for her chest. She banished that sight and told Rose what she found out about the place. An almost invisible smile came across Rose's face and she added what she found out. The men that will arrive in thirteen days to buy their 'dolls' are among the most wanted mobsters in space. Obscenely rich, they could've had any woman they wanted. Instead they settled for women who were molded to fit their warped desires and preferences. The duo was glad those mobsters will be here. When the SWAT teams arrive those dirty old men will be caught with the pants truly down. Quinn broke this happy train of thought.
    There's one problem, Quinn 'said'. The hyperspace transmitter uses an awful amount of juice. Tonight after Alan is asleep I can certainly cobble up a fake cover story when sending the message to the nearest police base, but someone will still be monitoring the power levels. That person will definitely double-check the logs and add two and two together. There has to be a way to divert attention from that power spike. Quinn walked out of the shower and grabbed a towel. After drying herself off she saw Rose was having some difficulty. Her hands barely reached her nipples, let alone touch together in front of her. Quinn helped to wipe the sections of wet skin Rose was unable to reach. Just then an idea entered her mind.
    Rose looked at the smaller woman's face. What is it? Figured it out?
    Quinn smiled. And how. The wetware also copied the duty roster. Tonight there will be only one man in the security monitor booth. After Alan does his business with me I'll use his wrist com and enter some commands. Afterwards I'll take a shower and have the cameras train on me. That screen watcher will get a personal display of bathing beauty he won't forget.
    Rose nodded in agreement. She had her concerns about the remaining thirteen nights. The living pillows had no worry about having sex. It was an altogether different story for Quinn and the others. Especially Quinn. She placed a hand on one of Quinn's ears and enabled the receptors. Though it wasn't necessary since the receptors can transmit through the air Rose wanted to reassure her friend. God preserve you, Quinn. That Alan creep certainly won't break you; he doesn't want to end up like the eunuchs. He will, though, push you to the limit. Go along with it, but endure and survive. You must remember who you are and why you're here. Until the SWAT teams are here you'll be the only one who has access to the network. It's highly unlikely I will get the same lucky break you did. The women and I are counting on you.
    Quinn knew that Rose could be sincere if the situation called for it. That was certainly the case now. She removed the hand from her ear and gave Rose a reassuring squeeze. She let go and Rose turned to walk to her locker. Rose got as far as putting on her panties when Quinn let loose with a quick towel snap to her behind. Rose jumped up almost half a meter in the reduced gravity. She turned around to see Quinn grinning like an idiot, holding the towel like it was a bull whip.
    Rose rubbed her smarting behind. What the hell was that for?
    That was payback for when you did that to me three years ago at the station. Quinn was still grinning.
    That little incident? Honestly, Quinn, you hold your grudges so long that they die of old age.
    And then I have them stuffed. Quinn snapped her improvised whip and walked to her locker. Rose stuck out her tongue at her and finished putting on her slipovers.
    Like pillow women need all that much clothing. Rose sighed and started back to the pillow room. God preserve you, Quinn. You need it.

Kelly hated the dead shift. He eyed the monitors mechanically. All the good stuff happened just before he arrived for duty. The women and their 'trainers' finished their work and were soundly asleep. Admittedly, looking at overendowed girls as they slept was something of a turn-on, but Kelly preferred them working out or just walking. Seeing mammaries bounce up and down was enough to make a man miss a heartbeat. Then something caught his attention. One of the monitors flickered and changed perspective. The women's common bathroom came into focus. One of the women, the one with blonde hair and brown skin, came into view, naked as a jaybird.
    Kelly's heart started to speed up. This wasn't going to be a boring night after all, he mused. The woman entered a shower and turned it on. After getting a good rinsing she lathered herself up. If she had but known it the way she positioned herself gave the hidden camera an excellent view of her form. Kelly felt his crotch get hot and bothered. She lathered up her breasts quite a bit. Kelly turned up the volume for his headset. He heard the pleasurable moans and gasps as she massaged her mounds. He managed not to drool but his pants were beginning to feel too tight. Then she placed herself under the spray. She held her breasts up to the water and stood there like a naked goddess.
    Kelly remained fixated on her body. Then it was all over. The little woman dried herself off and headed back to her room. The monitor flickered and then died. It was only then that Kelly noticed that he had wet himself. Damnation. He thought quickly. He took the cup of water he was drinking from and spilled it down his front and crotch. This way they'll think I accidentally spilled the drink on myself. I hope the urine smell won't be noticeable. He grabbed a fistful of kleenex and completed the illusion that he was drying himself after spilling a drink on his clothes.
    While Kelly was mesmerized by Quinn's shower he failed to notice a section of security panel light up. A red light came to life, quickly followed by an amber and then a green. Fifteen seconds later the process reversed and the panel went dead. Two hours later a hyperspace-sent message reached the police base at New Tasmania.
 

8: The Last Night

Thirteen days later had the sixteen 'normal' women in the base's quite large ballroom. Quinn looked at the scenery again and was awed by the opulence. There were nine massive chandeliers on the ceiling. The long crystal shards bent and diffused the light, bathing the huge room in a golden glow. Several ice sculptures adorned the buffet tables, melting ever so slowly. Expensive replicas of antique furniture were everywhere, each one costing more than a typical family made in a year. Quinn stopped in front a full-length mirror and looked at the piece of cloth that pretended to be her dress. The dress started at her ankles with slits going up both sides to her waist. A thin belt went around that tiny waist. Her back was naked all the way down to the small of her back. There were no straps to hold the top of her dress up, so tiny dabs of body paste had to do that job. Only the front and bottoms of Quinn's mammaries were covered.
    Quinn made a mental sour face. This dress was made to make me look more naked than I actually am. This thing will fall around my ankles if I take a deep breath. She turned to observed the other women and the buyers. The buyers were eyeing and touching the women, gauging them to their own checklists. Half an hour later saw most of them retire to the women's bedrooms, obvious for the 'try before you buy' option. Quinn turned away with hidden disgust.
    If everything worked the SWAT teams would arrive tonight. I better get Alan hot and bothered so he'll take me to bed now, she thought. Quinn added a bit more sway to her walk as she approached Alan. He was talking to one of the other mobsters. He turned to face the sound of the approaching footsteps. Seeing Quinn's boobs bouncing up and down with each step made him anxious. She reached out and took one of Alan's hands and placed it at the very top of her cleavage.
    "Alan, dear, I do believe I feel a little tired. Care to come back with me to my room?" Her chest rose and fell in sympathy with her breathing. Alan was now very anxious. He politely said his good-bye to his fellow mobster and escorted his tiny charge back to the women's quarters. Quinn didn't mind this time that Alan's hand was planted on her left breast.
    That's right. Let's have a meltdown in your pants, shall we? Quinn thought as she entered her bedroom and proceeded to the tiny wet bar in the corner. She produced two wine glasses and an iced bottle of century-old champagne. Alan didn't bother to use the cork remover. He sunk his teeth into the cork and ripped it out quickly, spilling not a drop from the bottle.
    Quinn wasn't impressed. Wasn't that elegant? she observed. What will he do for an encore? Quinn waited as Alan poured out the drinks. He then reached into his suit pocket and retrieved a small vial. He opened it and shook loose two tiny pills. He placed one in each drink. Quinn hid her concern. What is that stuff? I hope that my medical sacs can counteract that shit. As a backup I better give my wetware some last-minute instructions. Quinn looked into Alan's eyes as he gave her a glass.
    "Since this will be our last night together I decided to make it extra-special. The drug in our drinks will give us more potency in our love making. There's no danger of addiction and no side-effects. Aurelli will make me a eunuch if there was any chance of harm coming from this." He raised his drink in a toast and Quinn matched it. "Here's to our special night." Their glasses clinked and soon they were empty.
    Quinn didn't wait long for the drug to kick in. To her dismay her implants could only dilute, but not cancel, the effects of the drug. She began to feel warm and sweaty all over. She removed her slippers and stood up. Her breathing became deep and long. It was then she started to feel a strong surge of arousal growing in her. She looked down and noticed her breasts starting to swell. The breasts normally swelled a little bit from arousal, but this was not normal. Quinn's oversized bust expanded an extra twenty centimeters. The body paste holding the dress was unequal to the task and failed. Just as she expected the next deep breath had her dress pool around her feet. She released the clasp that was holding the tiny necklace around her neck. It disappeared into the vast depths of her cleavage.
    Alan was also quite aroused and quickly removed his clothes. He pulled down Quinn's abbreviated panties and placed both hands on her waist. He lifted her up and carried her to the bed. Quinn realized she was losing conscious thought as more primitive drives took over. She sent her last command to her wetware before becoming lost to everything except Alan.
    Alan's thrusts were more powerful than ever. After the first few Quinn felt quite numb. Her fingernails made deep furrows in Alan's shoulder blades, drawing blood. It was only a few seconds later that they both climaxed and yelled at the top of their lungs. Good thing the walls were very heavily soundproofed.
 

9: Idiot Savant

Alan was still inside Quinn when her wetware cycled up to full function twenty minutes later. It noted that its host was fatigued but was still able to perform her duty when the time came. Following instructions, it opened Quinn's eyes and moved her head. The wetware found Alan's wrist com still attached to his right wrist. A few minutes of effort from the host's hand had the com free. Receptors came to live and soon the 'ware accessed the base's deep space sensors. It didn't wait long as a bevy of police cruisers exited hyperspace and bored straight at the base. The changeling program went into action and performed its preassigned tasks.

Kelly was glad he had got the duty assignment this night. The buyers arrived and were measuring up their prospective purchases. The security cameras all got great views of the women's practically naked bodies. This time he controlled his arousal and kept his heart from racing. Later on the women and buyers headed for the bedrooms and Kelly shut down the cameras in the ballroom. He resumed monitoring the rest of the base. Some fifty minutes later an alarm light lit up.
    He checked it out and his forehead knotted in concern. A whole shitload of police cruisers exited from hyperspace and were headed right for the base! Kelly instinctively hit the alarm button. Nothing happened. Kelly repeatedly hit the button and still nothing happened. Next he tried to raise up the defensive systems and again met with no response. Now bordering on panic the watchman tried to access the PA system. After several attempts he heard something coming over his headphones.
    "It's three strikes and you're out, four-ears!!" Kelly went bug-eyed as the voice was replaced by an ultra-high screech. His brain ceased to function and he flopped on top of his control panel. To add insult to injury his lost control of his bowels and voided the contents of his bladder.

After that satisfactory outcome the 'ware then set about reviving its host. It ordered her stim sacs to start pumping into her bloodstream. The adrenal glands were also goaded into action. One final sac pumped a quick-awake concoction directly into Quinn's brain. Two seconds later she was fully alert.
    Quinn didn't hesitate. She wrapped her legs around Alan's midsection and squeezed with all of her augmented strength. At the same time she pressed her breasts together, trapping Alan's head between those massive mounds. He was startled and couldn't help but let loose with a strong exhale, his hot breath exiting from Quinn's cleavage. He also couldn't inhale. As much as he wanted to escape, Quinn's impossible strength became even greater. He tried to grab her hair but to no avail. His heart, already tested by the sex drug, was overtaxed. It beat irregularly and he panicked. Quinn redoubled her efforts, feeling Alan's lips as he tried to draw in a breath of air. It was useless. Less than twenty-five seconds later, the mobster stopped struggling. Quinn waited a full minute before releasing her death-grip on his body. She slid out from under him, his member making a slurping sound as it exited her.
    Talk about a gross-out factor, she thought to herself. She was visibly shaking as she stood up, a pent-up ball of energy ready to spring into action. She attached Alan's wrist com to her left wrist. She was now in total contact with the changeling program as it worked out its orders. Quinn put on her skimpy panties and nothing else. No time to lose. Here I go. She exited her bedroom and sprinted out of the women's quarters.
    The hallways were vacant. The changeling program had seen to that. It sealed the hatches and pumped sleeping gas into compartments that held only slavers and mobsters. Quinn reached the sickbay and entered. In a flash she retrieved a set of hypos and rolls of medical tape. She bounded back to the women's quarters. Entering each room she applied a knock-out hypo to each mobster and bound and gagged them. She ordered the women to gather in the common area and stay there. They absently obeyed her commands. Seeing that all was in order Quinn headed to retrieve the pillow women and especially to rescue Rose. She checked the base's sensors again. The police cruisers were now only fifteen minutes from docking. She should be feeling more confident but something inside her told her that something was amiss.
    Quinn sent a signal through her wetware. Hey, Rose! Wake up! The calvary is coming and you'll need to get ready on your end.
    About time you did something. Rose's reply was a great relief for Quinn. The four geezers here won't need anymore help in staying asleep. But still do you have anything to tie them up just to be on the safe side?
    No sweat, partner. I'll be there in five minutes. With that Quinn padded down the hallway towards the pillow room. Her boobs, still enlarged from her arousal, bounced more heavily than usual. Upon arrival she opened the hatch. Rose was there, as large as ever, with her charge still asleep. Quinn quickly applied a hypo to each of the four men and bounded them. The return to gravity was uneasy for the pillow women, but they soon recovered their balance and followed Rose back to their quarters.
    Take care, Rose. I'll be headed toward the docking bay to greet our knights in shining battle armor.
    You better at least attempt to cover yourself before doing that, Quinn. I don't want to see our knights cream in their armor at the sight of your aroused boobs. I guess Alan got you to rise up like a loaf of bread! Quinn could swear she heard Rose snickering. But hey, if I got aroused my balloons would be bigger than sofas!
    Quinn shrugged her shoulders and headed down to the docking bay. There you go again with the bad jokes!
 

10: Endgame

Then it occurred to Quinn. Damn, not all of them would be in the base. Some would still be aboard their ships. Quinn queried the network. There were at least twelve mobsters still awake and unaccounted for. She keyed the security cameras in the docking bay. To her relief she saw eight of them milling around the bay, eyeing each other and generally trying to look tough. She ordered the safety systems in the bay to deactivate and had the doors open. They panicked as they saw the huge doors part and tried to run, but to no avail. They were all blown out and died horribly as their lungs ruptured and internal fluids boiled away in their veins.
    That just leaves four. I'll need a gun just in case. Quinn shortly found an unconscious slaver and relieved him of his pulsar rifle. After checking it out she queried the network to locate the remaining four mobsters. They were headed for one the escape ships. Following a schematic she reached it before they arrived. The mobsters rounded the corner and jerked to a stop. There in front of them was an overdeveloped, tiny woman wearing a skimpy panty and holding a large gun. It would have been comical had the gun not been real. A second later she yelled out to them. "This is the police! Drop your guns and surrender! Now!"
    Three of the mobsters were still gawking at her body. One, though, heard the word 'police' and reached for his pistol. A very bad move. Quinn fired her pulsar rifle right into his chest. A pulsar fired 3 millimeter glass beads at high velocities. They were suited for boarding actions as the beads will easily break up against bulkheads and hatches. However they were deadly to lightly armored people. A fine cloud of pink mist formed behind the mobster. He fell over without much fanfare. The other three were still not thinking as they lunged toward Quinn. They were knocked down in short order.
    I guess that wraps it up. I just contact the SWAT commander and fill him in on the details. Might as well go back to the women's quarters and wait for them to get there. Quinn turned and walked confidently back. The base's structure was interfering with the wetware's transmissions and she was unable to raise Rose. There were no comm panels in the quarters so she couldn't contact her that way either. Quinn wasn't concerned; it wasn't as if anything could happen now. The SWAT commander was relieved to hear that no major blasting would be required to enter the base. It would just be a case of picking up the sleeping trash.
    She reached the level where the quarters were located and had line of sight to the doors. She tried to raise Rose again. It got as far as confirming that she was still there when she felt a black tidal wave of pain coursing through her body. Quinn doubled over and fell to the floor. Catching her breath she examined herself. I wasn't hit. What was that? Could ..... ROSE! Quinn got up and ran the rest of the way. Upon entering the quarters she was greeted by the sight of the women, all huddled in the central sitting pit. Above them was Alan, now clad in his pants and branishing a compact pistol.
    Dammit! He's still alive! I should've made sure he was dead. He must've had a flesh holster to conceal that gun! Alan smiled deeply at Quinn and aimed his pistol toward the women.
    "I advise you to drop your weapon. One of your friends tried to repeat your earlier feat to suffocate me. She never made it. Look." He motioned toward the pit. The pillow women were there too. She saw Rose on her back. Her right hand was cradling her left arm. It was then she saw that Rose's left hand was completely gone.
    "Bastard!!". Quinn bellowed with all her breath. That's why I felt that stab of pain. Somehow the wetware transmitted that sensation to me, she thought in her rage. It was obvious that Rose's implants had released coagulant to stop the further loss of blood. Joy juice also stopped her from going into shock. Rose was sweating up a storm and was quite incapacitated.
    "What a shock to hear such language from a delicate little flower like you, lady cop. You have to be one, along with your friend here, I imagine. Being a mob security chief puts one in a lot of scrapes. Some years ago I had medical nanites implanted to quickly take care of me. They stopped the internal bleeding and revived me." Quinn saw two large hematomas on his waist. Her face flushed with frustration. Damn, to come so close and to have failed at the end!
    "Hey, lady cop! Look at me!" Quinn eyed Alan again. He was pointing his gun at the women. "Throw your gun at me or else I'll have to shoot another one of these women."
    "Like hell you will!"
    "There you go again. I won't tolerate such language from you." With that he fired his gun at the kneecap of the woman he was aiming at. It disintegrated in a small spray of gore. The helpless victim fell down and wailed in agony. As much as she wanted to scream Quinn bit her tongue and drew blood. Asshole, she said to herself mentally.
    "Give me the gun or all of them will be shot." Alan stood there and awaited her response. Trembling out of frustration, fear, and anger she threw the gun to him. It landed at his feet. She raised her arms in surrender. "That's better. Now it's obvious to me that you're in contact with the SWAT teams. Tell them that I'm holding the women hostage and I'm demanding safe passage off this rock. They have two minutes before I start shooting again. Starting now."
    Quinn grimaced as she raised the SWAT commander. Just as she was about to speak she saw a huge shape rise behind Alan. Two hands landed on his shoulders, shattering the collarbone. Alan yelped in pain and fell. Huge fingers plucked the gun from Alan's hand and crushed it like a cheap plastic toy. It was Gunther, one of the eunuchs. He smiled at Quinn as he picked up Alan's limp form.
    "As much as I want him dead, don't kill him, Gunther. The Police will be here in no time to arrest him. Tie him up and get a med kit on the double." She ran over and bounced up, landing a kiss on Gunther's cheek. "Thank you, you are such a sweetums." Though it shouldn't be possible Gunther's cheeks blushed every so slightly. He went off to do Quinn's bidding. She then turned to check out the fallen woman's knee and applied a crude bandage to stop the bleeding. Doing what she could she then turned to Rose. At least her breathing was now normal.
    "I guess my promising piano career is over. Pity that I never tried it out to begin with."
    "Always with the bad jokes, Rose. We will be going home now. Just you don't go dying on me yet."
    "Perish the thought. Who will be around to give you a hard time?" Rose smiled weakly and concentrated on breathing. Quinn moved closer and held her friend's good hand to her chest. She wished the police would be there that much quicker.
 

11: Report to the Chief

"So you want to be an undercover cop? Surely, five years of patrol under your belt must have shown you how dangerous it can be out there. Think it over."
    Patrolman Wenuski regarded the Chief carefully. How melodramatic. First he turned off the air conditioning and raised the heat in this room. Trying to make me sweat and be uncomfortable. Plus he smoked so many cigars that it's quite hazy in here. He will have to try harder than that do discourage me. "I still want to do it, Chief."
    The Chief let loose another puff of smoke, this time right in Wenuski's face. He didn't cough. "All right, kid. I'm inclined to believe you. I will give you one more chance to change your mind. Two of my best undercover agents just came back from an assignment. They're going to present their report. You'll have this opportunity to listen in and learn what it is like to be on the front line of undercover crime busting." Wenuski wondered why the Chief emphasized that last word. Just then there was a knock at the door. Right on time again, the Chief told himself. "Enter".
    The vision-obscuring glass on the door only showed the blurred bulk of two human bodies on the other side. Wenuski expected an epic tale of how these agents broke up a dog-smuggling ring. He couldn't have been further from the truth. His eyes bugged out as two of the biggest-busted women he had ever seen in the flesh entered the room. They were dressed in standard police clothes, but their shirts were enormous! Those had to be custom made. They were bigger than the ones that Kelso, the armory chief, wore! The shorter one's regulation tie barely reached the front of her breasts. The tie on the taller one was many centimeters short of that goal. They saluted the Chief. Wenuski watched as the two carefully sat down in their chairs.
    Wenuski willed himself to remain calm, but it was exceedingly difficult. The women's breasts rose and fell with each breath and their buttons threatened to pop off if they breathed in too deeply. The stale, hot air in the room also affected them. Sweat caused their shirts to stick to their oversized breasts. Even their tiny nipples became evident. Wenuski crotch became hot and bothered. Adding to his torment the women were gesturing with their arms, causing their breasts to jiggle. The hazy air added to the unreality of what was happening in the room. The shorter one had blonde hair and a rich brown color to her skin. Her wire-rim glasses and green eyes made her look quite desirable. Her companion had light brown hair, light pink skin and was equally desirable. He turned to look at the Chief. He showed no reaction at all to the women's appearances.
    Wenuski lost all sense of time. He was startled when the duo ended their report abruptly and stood up. The short one's shirt became untucked from her pants, exposing several centimeters of her slim brown waist. She expertly tucked her shirt back in. When they turned to leave the duo's breasts collided. Their gyrations nearly caused Wenuski to melt in his pants. Regaining their poise the duo were just about to open the door when the taller one turned around. "Oh, I almost forgot to give you our report on chip. Here it is." She reached with her right hand into the pocket that was on top of her right breast. It was then that Wenuski fell to the floor in heavenly bliss.
    Quinn went to his side and took his pulse. "He's alive, but he's going to need a fresh pair of underwear and pants, Chief."
    "Looks like I win, Chief." Rose held out her right hand; her left arm still ended with an empty cuff. "He melted just before we left the room. You thought he'd do that as we came in. Five bills, please." Her hand opened in close in a quick gimmie-gimmie motion.
    The Chief sighed and produced the money. He realized that he was overly hard on the young lad. What the hell, might as well let him be an undercover. A man can take only so much temptation before falling apart. We'll have to work to control his arousal factors, that's all, the Chief reflected. He looked at Rose's empty cuff. He noticed that she played with it during the report. Best to get her to therapy. Wouldn't want that to become a permanent nervous habit. "You two head on down to Kregor's office right away. I can't have two of my agents running around looking like balloon smugglers. Especially you, Rose. I want to see a hand in that empty cuff. The psych people will also help both of you overcome any trauma you got from your adventure. I also know that it will take quite some time for you two to get back to more decent proportions. To that end you both have extended leaves available. Dismissed."
    The duo smartly saluted and left. The Chief called Quartermaster Teller and asked him to bring a pair of underwear and pants for Wenuski. The Chief wondered how long before the rumor mill with come up with something to explain what happened to Wenuski in this room. Ten minutes, tops. The Chief went back to work on his computer terminal.
 

12: Surprizing Derek

Derek Kendrick set his aircar on autopilot and took in the view. The Zipperback, Outback's main mountain range, was greater than the Rockies on Earth. It was high summer and he saw the permanent snow pack on the highest peaks. The field grasses were over a meter high, rippling in the wind coming down from the mountain slopes. In short order Derek saw the house Quinn had rented for the week. It was nestled in the foothills and had a commanding view of the mountains beyond.
    Derek was happy that the ship he was assigned to had made an unplanned stopover at Outback. The planetary sciences section, the one he ran, earned the first rotation of leave. He hasn't seen Quinn in almost eleven months and he was eager to embrace her again. Derek received a message from Quinn, sketching out her most recent undercover job and a picture of her face. While he didn't approve what those bastards did to her, Derek did admit that combination of color and hair did make Quinn quite a dish. He had the car stopped a short distance from the two-level country house. He regarded his face in a hand mirror and � totally unnecessarily � combed his hair.
    His face could best be described as "strong" and "elemental". His homely looks had made him depressed as a teenager. But Quinn looked past that exterior to see the genuine warm and compassionate person beneath it. He was grateful she did that as it meant a lot to him. He got out of the car and walked towards the front door. It opened and his eyes lit up as he saw Quinn in the flesh. A moment later he came to an abrupt halt. He did a double take, looking at the photo and back to Quinn. The face, aside from the color, was right, but her chest...
    Quinn was wearing a conservative business dress. It looked proper and decent except in one area. Her bust. My God, they're enormous! She didn't tell me about this! She walked over to Derek. Even standing on her toes Derek had to bend over a little to kiss her on the lips. Her breasts pressed into him and he felt a little funny as they did. Quinn backed off and patted the top of her breasts with her left hand.
    "Welcome back, sailor. Dinner will be ready in ten minutes. After that I will explain how I got these puppies." She grabbed hold of Derek's hand and pulled him behind her. It was like a chihuahua dragging a submissive mastiff, and Derek didn't mind it one bit.

It was quite a dinner. Derek fed three complete servings into his furnace while Quinn just managed to finish her first and only one. Desert was a sinfully rich chocolate cake and Derek felt guilty as he ate practically the whole thing. "Don't fret, darling," said Quinn. "I took that into account when I made dinner. After all a growing boy does need his calories, especially for later tonight." She patted Derek's stomach and then led him to the living room. The bay window commanded an excellent view of the mountains beyond. After settling down both began to spin off stories.
    Stories about lifeless rocks and dull gas giants wouldn't do, so Derek delved into the rich dynamic of shipboard life. Some of the things he said would make a normal person blush but Quinn laughed instead. Later in the evening she started the fireplace up and spoke about the job she had come back from. Derek noticed a certain ragged undercurrent in her voice and she stopped several times to regain her composure. He held her hand, every so often giving a supportive squeeze. I wish I could strangle that fuck Alan. Too bad the gallows will get him instead of me. He looked at Quinn's exotic form. It could've been worse, he thought. Being a seasoned naval officer he had heard about cat houses filled with overendowed women, virtual slaves stuck in those places. Seeing Quinn as an upgraded version of that made him angry.
    Quinn sighed and stood up. "That's enough story telling for now. Now to more immediate concerns." She took off her dress jacket, revealing her white, long-sleeve undershirt. Normally it would billow like a circus tent, but her generous chest was testing the fabric to the breaking point. "My skin and hair will be back to normal in two months. The nanites in my chest, though, are a different story. The build-up was too quick and dirty. It'll take my new nanites one week to reduce my bust by one centimeter. That started two weeks ago."
    Derek's lips pursed and he flushed heavily. God, for the better part of a year she'll look like a balloon smuggler! Quinn saw his reaction and pulled him up.
    "Admit it; the last time you were this hot and bothered was at the senior Halloween party. I was wearing an old Playboy bunny suit that was so tight that it was practically a second skin. That's the same face that I saw way back then."
     "You were also practically flat-chested. I fantasized that you'll have a second puberty. It looks like for a short time that will be the case."
    "I knew there was a bust lover deep in you, Derek, though I'll never be in an issue of Homegrown, The Magazine Of Naturally Busty Women. I'm just for you." Quinn turned and headed for the music player. She selected some romantic slow dancing music and walked back to Derek.
    "May I have the honor of the first dance," Derek said as he extended his hand. Quinn daintily accepted. The couple danced slowly for at least two hours. Quinn's warm breasts pressing into Derek were slowing working their magic on him. The music ended, as if on cue. Quinn pushed away from Derek and stood there, arms akimbo.
    "I don't know about you but my kettle is definitely hot. Look." Derek at least didn't allow his jaw to open, but his lust and heartbeat increased to compensate. Quinn's bust swelled up. The pressure-sensitive strap going down the middle of the shirt gave way, allow the expanding mammaries to come into Derek's view. The strapless bra held out a little longer, but in the end its hold failed and it fell into the shirt. Quinn was also sweating a quite a bit.
    "That's one side-effect of having nanites building up your chest. Arousal makes them bigger than usual." She wiped off the sweat on her forehead and moved her hands down the sides of her breasts. "I do hate to go to bed so hot and sweaty. What shall we do about that?"
    Derek raised his eyes from her chest and meet her gaze. "A shower should do it. Feel like walking?"
    "Oh, I think that you should carry me. These aroused globes are a bit hard to walk with."
    At that Derek swept his woman into his arms. Her right breast firmly against Derek's wall of chest. It was the first time he and Quinn made love in a shower, and wouldn't be soon forgotten.

Derek opened his eyes as he heard a gasp coming from Quinn. It was 1 a.m. and light from Outback's moon, New Ayers Rock, was spilling into the bedroom. He turned over on the bed and looked at his partner's sleeping face. At first he thought it was a pleasurable dream she was experiencing. Her eyes, though, were moving quickly underneath their lids. Her breathing had become more pronounced and labored. Sweat beaded on her forehead. An inarticulate noise came from her mouth, startling Derek.
    Damn, she's having a nightmare. Derek wanted to wake her but thought it was best to let it run its course. It would not be the case. One of Quinn's now flailing hands found Derek's right arm and latched on with a death-grip. He winced in pain and tried to pry the hand off. In response Quinn rolled over and straddled Derek. Both hands flew to his neck and started to squeeze. Quinn's eyes were open but she wasn't looking out of them.
    Must be that damn wetware, working out her nightmare. He had to wake her up now. In a voice that could have shattered glass he yelled out her name. She shook as if a strong punch had hit her. Blinking several times, her eyes now looked like they belonged to her. Seeing what she was doing to Derek's neck she got off him and started crying.
    "Don't cry honey. You couldn't have helped it."
    "Like hell I could!!" Derek was taken aback by her strong reply. "My damn 'ware was responding to my nightmare! That shit Alan was having his way with me. Instead of submitting, I killed him, like I should have done in the first place!!"
    She placed her legs under her and looked dead-on at Derek. "Rose lost her hand and a woman had to get a new kneecap. All because I didn't made sure Alan was dead or truly incapacitated. They'll both recover but it shouldn't have happen in the first place, had I done my job right!" Hot tears rolled down her cheeks. Derek tried to wipe them off but Quinn grabbed his hand and placed it on her sternum.
    "Feel that? I still have a heart, feelings, all that crap. But if I keep working undercover, hell, even as a regular street cop, then the next time you won't be able to recognize me. It will just be the wetware and whatever is left of my soul and consciousness running the show. The woman you know and love will be gone."
    Derek felt his lover's heart beating underneath his hand. He knew then what he had to say. "Being a wife of a naval officer can be incredibly lonely and there's always the chance I'll never come back. Do you want to be a potential widow instead of being a robot?"
    "You won't get lost. Our bond is stronger than that. You didn't quite say the word 'marriage' but I'll take 'wife' as a substitute."
    The two reached out for each other and engaged in a long, passionate kiss, just like one off the cover of a bodice-busting love novel.
    "The wedding will have to wait two months. I'll be getting a proper leave then, plus your bust will be a little less massive when our families attend."
    "I bet mother will be shocked to see how much her little daughter filled out after all these years. I have to get a new wedding dress; Mom's won't fit me."
    Derek placed a finger on Quinn's lips, silencing them. "That's enough for now. We can talk about that later this morning over breakfast." He glanced at her bust and a fresh stirring of arousal filled him. "Still up to a little bed magic?"
    Quinn pulled his head into her cleavage. "Looks like I have to get you burned-out at looking at large boobs. Now is better than later." They both went into each other and didn't wake up until 9 a.m.
 

Epilogue

Quinn rubbed her eyes and tried to recapture her train of thought. Before her were piles of writing pads and empty decaffeinated pop bottles. Soft orchestral music was playing in the background. Then her mind clicked in with the answer. She hurriedly wrote it down and saved it to file. Now I can get going on my nap, she thought. Quinn stood up, still getting used to her expanding midsection, and walked over to her favorite sofa. She lay down on it and covered herself with a comforter that her mother gave her for her last birthday.
    As she drifted off to sleep the events of the past five years came back. Aurelli, Alan, and their goons were all dead, getting their richly deserved reward for their decades of crime. The sex slaver ring was utterly destroyed and the mob wasn't looking healthy either. The unfortunate women had managed to rebuild their interrupted lives. Quinn and Rose had their busts reduced to normal, regulation B size.
    Toby, Gunther, and Mongo, the eunuchs, were judged to have already paid for their past crimes and were placed on five-year probation. They opened up their own massage parlor in New Darwin and of all people their manager was Rose. Quinn couldn't help but laugh a little at the thought. Rose had decided also that she had enough of police work. Being a stubborn bitch, she had a new hand cloned and surgically attached instead of getting a bionic replacement. She also got married two years ago. Her husband was very much like Derek. The obvious differences was that Rose's love was only as tall as Quinn and he had a pronounced pot belly. Love wasn't only blind, but gagged as well, Quinn thought. That unlikely couple is expecting their first child in six months. Quinn was looking at no more than five. She patted her belly and continued to recollect.
    Derek had put in his twenty years and retired. He's currently working as a teacher of geography at New Darwin University and earns a decent wage. Not that my own income is small, she thought. Heck, we can easily support two families with the bills I'm pulling down.
    As part of Quinn and Rose's therapy they both put down their experiences at the slaver base in writing. Quinn was intrigued that this therapy could be so helpful. It also served as a floodgate for all those other stories she collected while on the force. The venerable trunk of stories proved to be a rich vein, waiting to be mined. Consulting the police legal department and having Rose as co-writer she did a novel. Entitled "Blue Undercover: Adventures of the Overendowed Duo" the novel made and stayed in the top ten list for over 50 weeks. After that the inevitable movie came out and then the publishers wanted more. Flushed with success Quinn and Rose gladly provided. A new novel came out every nine months. A bi-monthly comic, Boobs in Blue, made for the 14 to 30 year old crowd came out three years ago and a much more mature title, Blue Steel, was on the racks a year later. Last year the live-action show, Boobs in Blue, was placed in syndication and was consistently in the top five for that category. To top it off a toned-down half hour animated show, Police Blue, made for the toy-buying 14 to 18 year-old set, was going to air in the fall. The toy and video game advertisers were happy to get such a 'captive' audience. Quinn and Rose were receiving a generous income now from the royalties and copyrights. Soon that would include the merchandising.
    As if she was closing a book Quinn resigned herself and drifted to sleep, hoping a fresh new storyline will present itself in her dreams. She didn't have to wait long.
 
 
 

END

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