Government Tit

The heavy knock at Michelle's door startled her out of an unplanned nap in front of the television. She jumped up and grabbed the remote control to mute the sound, and on the way to the door, ran her fingers through her hair in an effort to restore order to it. Looking through the peep hole, she saw it was Kerp and opened the door.
    "Hi, Mich."
    "Kerp! This is a nice surprise. What's up?" She was genuinely pleased to see him again, but she could tell he was distraught.
    "I just spoke with Constance DiGiovanni — Janet's mother?"
    Michelle nodded as she closed the door. "Did Janet agree to your proposal?"
    "I didn't speak with her. She wasn't there."
    "Wasn't there? How could she not be there? Is she okay?"
    "Before I could even ask to talk to her daughter, Mrs DiGiovanni started thanking me profusely for taking Janet away!"
    "What? Someone came and got her?"
    "So it seems."
    "Do you think Hudson went behind our backs?"
    "When I told him what had happened, he was furious. Either he didn't do it, or he put on a hell of an act for me. Yikes, Mich! You've been busy."
    "Busy? No, not really." He clarified himself with a nod toward her lavish bust. "Oh, I get you," she said, putting a hand to her head. "Sorry I'm so slow; I just woke up. So there's a noticeable difference?" She looked down at her extra large bosom bulging out inside the tight tee-shirt.
    "Definitely," said Kerp, trying to rein in his libido as he gazed at Michelle's big lovely breasts, which had indeed enlarged significantly since they'd seen each other three days before.
    "I haven't thought about it since the last time I saw you. I haven't even kept up with my measurements."
    "Uh-oh. You'd better! The lab people can be real bitchy if they don't get their data."
    "Yeah, so I've heard. Have a seat, Kerp."
    "Thanks." He strolled over to a chair and flopped down in it. "Oh boy. This feels too good. I don't think I'm ever gonna get up," he sighed, laying the laptop and a stack of file folders he was carrying on the end table beside him.
    Michelle picked up her measuring tape and log book, and sat on the sofa facing him. Thrusting out her bountifully bosomed chest, she began wrapping the tape around it as she said, "So what do you think happened with Janet?"
    "I don't know. I can't even guess. I can tell you it's no coincidence that Janet was taken away the day after we visited her."
    "The next day?"
    "Yep."
    "Did her mother mention whether Janet was cooperative?"
    "She said some things that lead me to believe that wasn't the case. She said Janet would 'come to realize it was for the best'. That she'd thank us some day."
    "That doesn't sound good."
    "I think her mother was glad to get rid of her."
    With the measuring tape now encompassing the widest girth of her impressive bosom, Michelle held both ends between the fingers of one hand, and announced, "Look! I filled up the whole thing!"
    Kerp sat with his eyes riveted on her jutting boobs. "Excuse me?"
    She chuckled. "I mean, my bust measurement is exactly 60 inches now. The whole length of the tape."
    "See? I told you: 'yikes'."
    "Thanks. Let's see how much it is if I inhale." With an impish look on her face, she filled her lungs with air, expanding her chest and sending one end of the tape popping out of her grasp. She giggled with delight.
    "Why aren't you using the measuring tape the bureau issued?"
    She looked at him curiously. "How do you know I'm not?"
    "Official FBGB bust measurement tape is a full 120 inches. It's longer to accommodate the exceptionally well endowed."
    "Oh! I didn't know that. Makes sense. I'd better remember where I put it because I'm gonna need it from now on. Am I gonna get in trouble for leaving a couple days blank in this log book?" she asked as she wrote her measurements down.
    "Just do a little math and interpolate your numbers for the missing days. They'll never know the difference."
    "Good idea." As she did the mental figuring and wrote down the results in her log, she commented, "You know, I've really been growing fast lately."
    "That's my impression. What was your average growth over the past few days?"
    "Uh — two inches a day! That's twice as much as they told me to expect. Is that okay? Should I call that doctor?"
    "Doctor Wilson? No. Different women develop at different rates. As long as they're growing, that's all the bureau cares about."
    Michelle rolled up her measuring tape and set it aside. "Kerp, you've been with the FBGB for a while, haven't you?"
    "Six years."
    "Tell me — how much should I go for?"
    "Hm?"
    "I mean, how big should I let my boobs get for this job?"
    "You still haven't decided that?"
    "No, Hudson's letting me wait and see what size I'm comfortable with."
    "Oh!" Pulling himself up so he was sitting straight, he carefully studied her magnificent bust. The shirt she was wearing could not be described as a good fit. She looked like a few extra gallons of oversize bosom had been poured into her shirt. The old, threadbare Mickey Mouse tee-shirt clung to the broad curvature of her breasts like a second skin. Kerp had immediately been impressed by the size and prominence of Michelle's nipples the first time he'd seen her. Now they were even bigger. The thin fabric of the ancient shirt allowed the darker skin around them to show. Her boobs were so big they seemed ready to burst the old tee-shirt into shreds and come bouncing into the freedom they sought. Her fleshy bosom consumed so much of the shirt's material that its bottom hem was lifted up in front, exposing her tummy. "Well," Kerp answered at length, "generally speaking, the bureau wants your breasts to get as big as you can stand for them to be."
    "Yeah, but what are they expecting from me? How much is enough to do the job? I've seen some incredibly huge boobs at the bureau."
    "True, but most of those ladies lack in other areas — overall appearance, savvy, skills, experience… You can run circles around them in all those respects."
    "Thank you, Kerp! But you still haven't answered my question. How big should I let my breasts get?"
    "Speaking as a completely flat-chested person, I say you should take everything you can get!"
    "Funny."
    "Seriously! The answer to your question is another question: How much can you handle?"
    "Okay, but I'm a professional; I'm prepared to make whatever sacrifice I need to make in the line of duty. If it served the greater good for me to grow a set of tits the size of China, I'd do it," she explained as Kerp momentarily imagined it, "but that would make me of no use to my country!"
    "Besides, where would you put boobs that size?"
    "Alright: what would you do if you were me?"
    "I'd go into the bathroom and play with my breasts."
    Michelle laughed in spite of herself, and threw the TV schedule at him. "Shut up!"
    "Okay, no joking around. If I were you, I'd let them get, uh — at least up to 65 inches. Minimum. Between 65 and 70, unless you want to be bigger. Some of our field agents request additional enlargements after a couple years. These women get a real thrill out of having huge breasts, but after a while they get accustomed to them being that size and the thrill wears off. It's like a drug; they keep wanting more and more. And the bureau almost always complies. I'm only aware of one agent who was ever turned down."
    "Who was that?"
    "Her name was Angela Foster. She was not too busty to start with, but as soon as they gave her the shots, her boobs started growing like crazy. When she came to work after her initial three-week leave, she had an 85-inch bust measurement. She was not a tall woman either, which made her boobs look even bigger. When I saw her I nearly shit. She looked absolutely enormous! Then a year and a half later she puts in for another augmentation. Supposedly it was some kind of special assignment and they authorized a 24-inch increase for her! Well, she took a three-week adjustment leave again, but she didn't show up when it was time to come in and get the shutdown shot. They called her and she said she was sick. She stayed out another four or five days, and then they went to her home. By that time she had a 127-inch bust! Amazingly huge!
    "Three years later she requests another enlargement. Nobody could believe it when it was approved. They granted her a 12-inch increase and gave her two weeks. Again, she doesn't show for the final shot. Didn't even call in. What's worse, nobody missed her until days after that. When they sent someone to get her, her breasts were so humongous she could barely come to the door. She got banned from any further augmentation. Her bust measurement was 145 inches!"
    "Good grief! And I used to think 41 inches was big!"
    "Is that what you were? Before?"
    "Yeah. I can see how it'd be addictive. Lately I've been getting a real charge out of my boobs getting so much bigger. I don't think I'd ever lose my perspective, though."
    "Well, slow change has a way of sneaking up on a person. Take, for example, the way you're still trying to squeeze your three-gallon bosom into that two-quart shirt! Why haven't you asked them for transitional clothing?"
    "Oh, I don't know. I like my clothes. I don't want to wear someone else's training bra!"
    "They don't give you second hand stuff, Mich. It's all brand new."
    "Oh. Are you sure?"
    "Yep. Never been worn."
    "Well. That's different. Do I have to go in and get measured?"
    "No, it's all adjustable stuff. Lots of elastic and Velcro. The extendible brassiere is a real engineering masterpiece. It's all flaps and straps — nothin' pretty to look at, but it's supposed to provide excellent support."
    "I believe I will call and ask for some bigger tops, then. The bra's not necessary. I prefer not to wear one if I don't have to, and so far I really don't need the support."
    After saying this, she noticed Kerp studying her formidable bosom with an inquisitive expression on his face. Michelle stood and turned sideways as she she lifted up the front of her shirt, baring her spectacular breasts. "See? No sag. Not yet, anyway," she said with a mischievous grin.
    Repositioning her tee-shirt over her freely undulating tits, she went to the phone and dialed the bureau. As she waited for someone to answer, Kerp commented, "Don't mind me. I'll just sit here and lapse into a coma."
    While Michelle made the call, Kerp grabbed his laptop and fired it up to take his mind off what he'd just seen. After waiting for the built-in cell phone to make its connection with the internet, he logged on to the FBGB server and searched for the records on Janet DiGiovanni. After a minute he became visibly agitated.
    Michelle hung up her phone and announced, "New tops by tomorrow morning. What's the matter?"
    "Janet DiGiovanni's files are gone from the server. There's just an empty directory."
    "Oh. So what do you think that means?"
    "It means something stinks." He closed the computer and set it aside. "Got any plans for the immediate future?"
    "No. Why?"
    "Wanna come along with me for a visit with Mrs DiGiovanni?"
    "What would she be able to tell us?"
    "You never know what a person can tell you until you get them talking. The two of us are pretty high on her list at the moment, so she'll be real chatty. I want to see what I can piece together."
    "Okay. You're going right now?"
    "Strike while the iron is hot. Whoever abducted Janet DiGiovanni is moving fast. I want to move faster," he said, standing.
    "But it's almost four o'clock! You want to get on the beltway now?"
    "We can take the diamond lane if you come with me."
    "I don't know; it'll be late when we get there, traffic will be bad…"
    "Suit yourself," Kerp said as he headed for the door.
    "Hey wait! If you're going anyway, I'll come along."
    "Well let's go!"
    "Can I at least put on a decent top?"

The front door of the DiGiovanni residence opened to reveal a weathered face. "Yes? Oh! It's you! Hello, hello! Come in, please!" exclaimed the woman. "It's good to see you again, Curt."
    "Hello, Mrs D."
    "And you too, sweetheart; forgive me if I don't remember your name," the woman said, taking an undisguised look at Michelle's extremely prominent and barely clothed bust.
    "Agent Michelle Myers, ma'am," trying to look as professional as possible while trying to pull the front of her Mickey Mouse tee-shirt down to hide her tummy.
    "Yes. You kids are just in time for dessert! I've got a fresh pot of coffee and homemade canoli. Come to the kitchen and sit while we talk."
    "Sounds great!" agreed Kerp enthusiastically.
    They followed her in and took seats around her small kitchen table. As the older woman puttered about fixing cups of coffee and little plates of pastry, Kerp opened with small talk about common things. After Mrs DiGiovanni had served them and sat down, he steered the conversation toward business.
    "Mrs D, we'd like to do a follow-up interview — to help us know how good a job we're doing: to find out if there were any problems or if there's something we could be doing better. I'd really appreciate if you'd let me pick your brain."
    She laughed. "If there's anything up there to pick, it's all yours!"
    "Thank you." Kerp took out a pen and a small pad of paper from his pocket. "So, they came to pick up Janet the day after we visited you previously?"
    "Yes."
    "Do you remember any names?"
    "I only spoke to one of the men — the one in charge. He had an unusual name, umm… wait, he gave me a card — if I can find it," she said, getting up from the table. She picked up a small basket from the counter and rummaged through it until she found the business card. "Here it is! Yes. His name was Mr Mox Nicks."
    "May I keep that card, Mrs D?" he asked.
    "Sure, if you want." She returned to the table and set it before him.
    Without picking it up, he continued, "How many people were here to move Janet?"
    "Let's see — I believe there were five."
    "All men?"
    "Yes."
    "Do you remember anything they said? Either to you, your daughter, or to each other?"
    "Well, Mr Nicks is the only one I spoke with. The men just talked to each other about the work they were doing — making the big hole in the side of the house, moving Janet out, and fixing the house back."
    "They did it all the same day? The same crew?"
    "Yes. They did such a good job, too! You were right when you said I wouldn't be able to tell there'd been a hole!"
    "How did they take her away?"
    "In a truck, like you said. The box part of the truck — the back — it raised right up to the second floor! Mr Nicks himself drove it away while his men put the house back together."
    "Did he make arrangements with you about seeing your daughter?" Kerp asked.
    "He said he'd call me next week."
    "Now, Mrs D, when we spoke to Janet she hadn't decided yet whether she wanted to come to the clinic. Do you know when she changed her mind?"
    "No. No, I don't."
    "Did she say anything to you the day she left?"
    "Not much, really. She was real tired and sleepy."
    "May we take a look at Janet's room to see their work?"
    "Sure! Right now?"
    "After we finish our canoli," he said grinning.
    The remainder of the conversation was small talk. Before they were ready to go upstairs, Mrs DiGiovanni answered a phone call from a friend, and Kerp took the opportunity to pick up Nicks' business card with the tweezers from his Swiss Army knife, and carefully put it into a small evidence bag which he pulled from his pocket.
    The purported inspection of the work done in Janet's room allowed the agents to carefully scan for anything the workmen might have left behind. As they had expected, however, the scene had been thoroughly cleansed and, according to Janet's mother, even vacuumed.
    "They did such a good job," Mrs DiGiovanni gushed. "So thorough and tidy!"
    "They sure were, Mrs D. I would expect as much from top level professionals," he commented with an eyebrow lifted Michelle's way. "Well, thank you for your time once again, ma'am."
    "And thank you for the dessert; it was delicious!"
    "Nonsense, it did me good to have company!"

It was about 7:30 PM by the time they got back on the interstate. As Kerpalscheiker merged with the remnant of rush hour traffic, he glanced at Michelle and asked, "So what do you think?"
    "I think its some kind of miscommunication between divisions. Somehow we got left out of the loop."
    "What about Hudson? That man is never out of any loop. He might be covering, or maybe this goes so fucking deep that he really doesn't know what's going on. If that's the case, we're in way over our heads!"
    "I think you're reading too much into all this. What about that guy?"
    "What guy?"
    "The guy who left his card with Mrs DiGiovanni. What was his name?"
    "Oh, Mr Mox Nicks?" Kerp asked with a wry grin.
    "Yeah. Let me see that card. And what's so funny?"
    "It's a joke, Mich. I guess you don't speak German, do you?"
    "No. Only Spanish, Chinese, Russian, and Japanese. Why?"
    "Mox Nicks is a corruption of the German, 'machts nichts', which translated means, 'it doesn't matter'."
    Michelle frowned and examined the business card through the clear plastic of the evidence bag. "You're positive? It's plausible that Mox Nicks could be a real name."
    "But it's not plausible that a group of impostors would abduct someone and leave a real name."
    "Assuming they are impostors, and that Janet DiGiovanni was abducted," she countered as she fished Kerp's cell phone from amongst the debris on the seat. Holding up the card with one hand, she dialed the number on it with the thumb of the other hand,.
    In a couple of seconds Kerp heard the three loud tones that blasted Michelle's ear, and then the computer-generated announcement that followed: "We're sorry; the number you have dialed is not in service at this time…"
    "Shit," she muttered. "I guess you're right. This is nuts! Who the hell would want to kidnap a woman with a pair hundred-pound breasts? The motive has to have something to do with her tits. Ransom can't be an issue, because that old woman doesn't have any money."
    "I agree."
    "So where do we go from here, inspector?"
    "Tomorrow morning I'll have this card checked for latent prints, and then — no, I can't. Tomorrow's Saturday; I forgot."
    "The FBGB's lab is closed on Saturday?"
    "We don't have one. We send all our stuff to the FBI lab."
    "But it's not closed on weekends."
    "So I hear. But Jeanette is."
    "Who's Jeanette?"
    "She's the lady who makes sure our evidence samples get to the FBI lab and back. You've met her."
    Michelle knitted her brow and shook her head.
    "Works on the fifth floor?" Kerp continued. "Glasses? Dark hair?"
    Michelle still puzzled to place her.
    "Normal size bust?" he added.
    "Oh, her! Yeah, I met her. But you know, I've got a friend at the FBI lab who can expedite this for us if you want."
    "No kidding? That'd be good — especially if there's somebody at the FBGB whom we can't trust."
    It was after 9:00 pm when they pulled into the parking lot at Michelle's building. Kerp pulled up to the front to drop her off. She looked at him inquiringly and asked, "Don't you want your stuff? Those file folders you left in my apartment?"
    "Oh! Yeah, I do need those."
    "Well, why don't you park the car and come up — we'll order a pizza or something. I'm starved."
    "Now that you mention it, I am too. I guess we should have stopped somewhere on the way."
    "No big deal."
    In the elevator on their way up to her floor, Michelle looked at her reflection in the mirrored wall and commented, "It's chilly in here. I've got my high-beams on."
    Kerp chuckled when he realized what she was referring to. The flimsy, time-worn material of her tee-shirt did little to conceal her large nipples, which were distended to maximum length, poking out extravagantly from her big breasts.
    The doors opened, and they walked down the hall toward Michelle's apartment. Kerp tried hard not to allow himself to be distracted by the fervent bobbling of her imposing bosom. As they approached her door, they noticed a box lying on the floor in front of it.
    "Maybe that's your new clothes from the bureau already!"
    "Wait a minute. That's not supposed to be here until morning. Call me paranoid, but stay here while I check it out."
    "You think it might be a bomb?"
    "No, I don't really. But there are plenty of people who died opening something they didn't think was a bomb. It's probably fine, but the fibbie in me has to make sure. I was at the scene of the aftermath of one of Kaczynski's mail-bombs, and ever since then, it's been hard to take a situation like this for granted."
    "No problem, Holmes."
    She lifted Kerp's pen from his pocket and stepped toward the package. It did indeed have an FBGB label with her name and address neatly typed on it. She used the pen to carefully prod here and there, and the lift up a corner to peer under it. "It's too light to be a decent bomb — I'm sure it's fine," she said after a few seconds. Picking up the box, she stood and fished her keys from the pocket of her jeans.
    "I just noticed — you don't carry a purse, do you?"
    "Sometimes. When I want to be a girl, I do. But I often don't carry one when I'm being a secret agent," Michelle said with a smile as she opened the door. She set the package on the table as she breezed past the dining area. "Would you call and order a pizza while I use the bathroom? The number's on the fridge. Anything's fine."
    "Sure," he answered.
    When she reappeared, he was sitting on the sofa looking through the folders he'd left there earlier.
    "What'd you order?"
    "I got us a medium pepperoni. Zat okay?"
    "Great. Now, let's see what I've got in here," she said as she began opening the box. She broke the tape with a letter opener and peeled back the flaps, finding numerous assorted items of clothing inside, which she brought out one at a time. There were several business-like blouses with roomy fronts, some casual tops, a few tee-shirts and tank tops, nightgowns of both the seductive and practical varieties, two swimsuits (a bikini and a one-piece), and two brassieres.
    "I told them I didn't want any bras yet. I see what you mean, though: they aren't much to look at," she observed as she held one of the clunky brassieres up to her large bosom.
    "You're supposed to wear it under your clothes."
    "Oh, well thank you so very much, Mr Wizard," she shot back sarcastically. "This thing is hideous! Look at all these clasps and things — it's like a straitjacket!"
    "All that stuff allows you to adjust the bra so it'll expand along with you. You'll get the pretty bras after you've had the shots that stop your growth."
    "What's this thing?" she asked, inspecting a large pocket sewn in deep between the voluminous cups.
    Kerp smiled. "That's a cleavage holster. All FBGB-issue brassieres have one built in to accommodate your sidearm. Studies have shown that very few people would attempt to search a busty woman there. Abnormally large breasts have a high intimidation factor."
    "Clever. Of course if I happen to be wearing a turtleneck sweater, I'm up Shit's Creek." She set the bra aside and sorted through the other garments. "The rest of this stuff isn't bad at all. Look here." She held up a low-cut sporty top. "I have to try some of these on. Excuse me," she said as she turned her back to him and started pulling her Mickey Mouse shirt off. "Don't look!"
    He did, though. He watched as she turned the garment this way and that, trying to orient it prior to putting it on. From behind, he could see the sides of her bulging breasts jiggle and shake as she wrestled with the garment. After she'd gotten it on, she turned back around to show him.
    "Hey, you were looking!" she chided, good-naturedly.
    "Yes, I was," he answered. "Sorry. I told my eyes not to look, but they wouldn't pay attention to me."
    "Yeah, yeah. So what do you think?" she asked, modeling the new burgundy pullover. It hugged her torso tightly, pushing her lavish bosom up and almost out of the plunging neckline. "I think my boobs are already too big for this one. It's kind of tight in through here," she said, putting her palms on the bottoms of her jutting breasts and giving them a slight lift.
    "Well, all these things are adjustable, but judging from how deep the neckline is, I'd say it was designed to show off what you've got, so it's probably supposed to be a little tight."
    "But I can adjust this?" she wondered, examining the garment.
    "I believe. Look for Velcro. Check those darts there in front — that seems like a logical place."
    Michelle reached up inside her shirt and felt around. "Aha," she declared. With a couple of short ripping sounds, the front of her pullover suddenly expanded and her great breasts dropped down into it. She hooted and clutched them sheepishly to stop their bouncing. "Wow, this does have room to grow! It completely swallows my boobs."
    She readjusted the Velcro for a nice, snug fit and inspected herself in a mirror. Turning from side to side, she examined her electrifying figure as Kerpalscheiker watched the display, helplessly entranced.
    After a few seconds, she turned her back to him again and peeled the top off. Kerp tried his best to occupy himself with something other than watching the sides of Michelle's big breasts as they bobbled. It wasn't easy.
    "I'm going to try on one of the tee-shirts you were telling me about. Aren't these the ones that are form-knitted?"
    "Yeah, well, sort of. When your bust has stopped growing, they'll give you custom tee-shirts tailored to your own figure. These here aren't custom. They are made extra roomy in the chest, plus the material around the upper torso is elastic."
    As he was explaining this, Michelle slipped the tee-shirt over her head, stuck her arms through the holes, and pulled it over her protuberant chest. The elastic material hugged her bulging tits, magically conforming to her body's curvy contours and emphasizing her bosom's extravagant size.
    She turned and studied her reflection in the mirror. "This is nifty technology," she commented. "I haven't worn a tee-shirt that fits this well in years."
    "The bureau has been in the big-boob business for a long time. They know their stuff." As he sat admiring the view, he confided," I think we should tell Mrs DiGiovanni the truth."
    "Which truth is that?" she asked, cupping her hands under her fleshy breasts.
    "That her daughter was kidnapped."
    "Oh." Michelle turned and faced him. "That's been bothering me, too. I'm still not completely convinced she was kidnapped, but your arguments have convinced me that the possibility is real enough."
    "I think I'll call her and talk it over with her."
    "Try not to upset her too much."
    Suddenly his face brightened and he reached for his cell phone. "First I need to call Chester McCorkendale at Baltimore PD," he muttered as he dialed. Michelle went on trying on new clothes, and Kerp watched attentively as he talked. "Chet! This is Lou Kerpalscheiker at the Bureau of Big Boobs… I'm fine, yourself? …Glad to hear it. Look, I'm sorry to call you at home — did I get you at a bad time? …Well, I've got a favor to ask. It has to do with a possible kidnapping, but it's kind of sticky. A federal agent may be involved, so I don't want to use one of our people just yet…"
    Michelle took off the tee-shirt and began trying on an elasticized tank top.
    "Are you guys still using the Identi-Kit system? …If you have time tomorrow, there's a woman in your area I'd like you to visit, and see if you can put together a composite on this agent who kidnapped her daughter."
    "Might have kidnapped her," Michelle corrected.
    "Right. Might have… Yeah, that was my new partner…" he grinned as he listened, and answered, "She sure is… uh-huh, that too."
    Michelle turned and looked at him inquisitively, wondering exactly what was being said about her. Kerp winked at her.
    "No, the other woman doesn't. It's her daughter who does… — Oh, come on! Then do it for the nobility of law enforcement!… How about if I e-mail you some pictures of the daughter? She's super huge! …Shame on you, Chet… Wait, I'll ask her." He lowered the phone a bit and addressed Michelle. "I want Chet to go see Mrs D and put together a composite sketch of our Mr Nicks, but he needs motivation. Whenever I've used him in the past, his payback was meeting whatever busty woman he's sent to interview. Now he's balking because that's not the case with Mrs DiGiovanni. So he wants to know if he can meet you."
    "What?" She hissed. "You're not trying to set me up on a date with this geek, are you?"
    "No, nothing like that! Chet's harmless. I'll go with you to see him sometime, we'll have coffee, chat a few minutes and leave." The voice on the phone piped up. "What? Oh, right." Kerp looked at Michelle again and added, "And he wants to take your picture."
    "Excuse me?"
    "Nothing sleazy! He just wants a snapshot. Fully clothed and in public. What?… Here, he wants to talk to you," Kerp said, handing her the phone.
    She scowled but took it. Holding it to her ear, she said flatly, "This is Agent Myers, how can I help you?"
    "Hello, Agent Myers! Sergeant Chester McCorkendale here. Thank you for speaking with me. Listen, I don't want you to be concerned about my intentions. Like the man says, I'm harmless. I'm only a short pudgy guy who likes to help out the Kerpmeister now and then."
    "Right. As long as you get to rub elbows with a top-heavy babe."
    "Basically, yes. But I'm not asking to actually rub anything. I promise I won't even look directly at your chest!"
    The man's unassuming charm was eroding Michelle's resistance, and her irritation subsided. "Well, what fun would that be? Alright, Chet, it's a deal. By the way, you can look, just don't let me catch you lookin'," she teased, winking at Kerp.
    "Do you ever accept marriage proposals over the phone from men you've never met?"
    "Not yet."
    "Okay, I'll ask you in person then. Thanks a lot, Agent Myers — enjoyed talking to you!"
    "Take it easy. You want to talk to 'the Kerpmeister' again?"
    "Yeah, put him on."
    Michelle transferred the phone back to Kerp. After thanking him for the favor, he gave Chet directions to Mrs DiGiovanni's residence. "When you come up with a sketch, I want you to e-mail it to me right away. …Right; after I get it I'll send you the photos of Janet D. …Great! Thanks! …I will. …She will. …Oh, she is! You're welcome, Chet. …You too. Bye."
    "'She is' what?"
    "Just boy talk."
    "Hmm."
    Michelle continued trying on her new selection of full-bosomed tops. As she was modeling a sizzlingly small bikini top which revealed acres of her curvaceous bounty, the doorbell rang. Kerp's eyes stayed fixed on her fleshy globes which bounced and wiggled merrily as she walked to the door. When she bent over slightly to look out the peep hole, gravity pulled her voluminous breasts away from her torso with a delightful effect.
    "Pizza's here," she announced, opening the door and greeting the young delivery girl.
    "Hi! Medium pepperoni with extra cheese?" she said automatically. Then her eyes encountered Michelle's huge undulating bosom, only barely covered by a couple scraps of cloth and a few strings. "Uh, twelve, um — Oh! That comes to $12.49," she stammered.
    Realizing that she had no money on her, Michelle turned to get her purse, but was stopped short when she bumped into Kerp. "Oh! Excuse me," she said.
    "My pleasure." He handed the delivery lady a five and a ten, and told her to keep the change. He thanked her and took the pizza, and Michelle closed the door. "Did you see the look on her face?" he said chuckling.
    "Yeah, her eyes were buggin' out almost as far as yours."
    He laughed and nodded.
    They sat on the floor and consumed the pizza voraciously while watching an old black and white mystery movie on television. During the meal, Kerp kept one eye on Michelle's enormous, scantily clad breasts, which jiggled wonderfully whenever she moved.
    When they had finished, he telephoned Constance DiGiovanni and made arrangements for Chet McCorkendale to visit in the morning, explaining that there was some confusion as to the identity of Mox Nicks. He didn't want to worry the woman until they could prove there was something to worry about.
    He hung up and sat back down on the couch next to Michelle. Looking at his watch, he said, "Guess I'd better get going soon." They watched the rest of the movie, and when it was over they continued watching as the next movie started unfolding its plot. The hour began to grow late.
    Kerp glanced at the clock on the wall and moaned. "I said I was gonna leave a half hour ago."
    "Well, don't. Sleep here on the couch if you want."
    "You wouldn't mind?"
    "Not at all. You'll behave yourself, right?"
    "I promise."

Michelle tossed and turned most of the night, never able to get comfortable. Her dreams were jumbled and uneasy. She was in a strange old house looking from room to room for Kerp, who was nowhere to be found. Her search was made more urgent by an overwhelming desire to make love to him. A detached part of her mind observed how odd it was that this passion would come upon her suddenly like that.
    Walking down a dark hallway, she felt he had to be very close by. In her peripheral vision, she caught a glimpse of something moving near her feet. Looking down, she saw that she was completely naked and her breasts were astoundingly huge! She stopped to examine them, stroking their broad flanks and marvelling at the gigantic size they had attained. They were so enormous she was unable to touch her fingers to her nipples. Michelle wondered what her bust measurement was, and felt a strong desire for Kerp to see how big and lovely her breasts had become.
    She heard footsteps and looked up to glimpse the figure of a man pass by, walking along a perpendicular hallway. She knew it was Kerp, and tried to call his name, but her voice wouldn't respond. She began running after him, but it was difficult to do. In addition to the extreme weight of her elephantine boobs, her knees kept butting them as she tried to run.
    After struggling along in this manner for a long while, her enormous tits began bumping against the floor, and she realized they were still growing. She turned around and began walking backwards, looking over her shoulder with her colossal breasts dragging along behind. Her progress was slow, and she despaired of ever being able to catch up to Kerp. Every once in a while she'd see him for a moment, but then he'd turn a corner and vanish from her sight again.
    Suddenly her movement was stopped cold. Her mountainous tits were stuck somehow and she could go no farther. She looked around front and was shocked to see that her breasts had grown to such enormity that they filled up the hallway, blocking it completely. She could feel the pressure of her skin against the walls as her huge boobs continued to grow.
    She was distressed that this turn of events would prevent her further pursuing the object of her passion, but she felt a peculiar joy at the tremendous size her bosom had attained. She stood gazing at her mammoth boobs, appreciatively sliding her hands across their vast surface. Her admiration of their extreme magnitude was euphoric, and she started to become sexually aroused. She squirmed with desire, hoping that her goliath boobs would continue to expand, swelling up so big that she'd have to crane her neck to see the sky.
    She was startled when someone right behind her said calmly, "These are the most beautiful breasts I've ever seen."
    It was Kerp. Her heart fluttered at the sound of his voice and she brazenly stuck out her fanny, pleading, "Please make love to me, Kerp! Fuck me now!"
    She startled herself awake by her strange behavior. She lay there considering the dream and the fact that she was sexually aroused. After a moment, Michelle chuckled a bit and closed her eyes again.
    The aroma of brewing coffee drew Michelle from her sleep, pulled her out of bed, and wooed her into the kitchen from whence it came.
    "Morning," she rasped sleepily, announcing her presence as she shuffled into the room.
    Kerp looked up from the newspaper and returned the greeting. "Good morning, Agent Myers. I brought in your paper. Hope you don't mind."
    "No, help yourself. I can't read anything before coffee anyway," she mumbled as she found a clean cup and set it on the counter by the percolator. "It sure is nice to have another coffee drinker here in the morning — thanks for making it! It's hard for me to do, first thing."
    "No problem."
    "Please excuse my appearance. I haven't even seen a mirror, but I'm sure I look frightful."
    "Not at all. You look endearingly disheveled. And extraordinarily bosomy, by the way."
    "Hm?" she grunted over her first sip.
    He cupped a hand to his mouth and raised his voice, calling, "I say, that's quite a large rack you have there this morning!"
    Michelle's eyes looked past her cup and focused just a bit further down. "Oh my!" she said calmly, setting her coffee aside. The roomy nightgown she had put on the night before was now stretched tight at the bust by Michelle's significantly enlarged breasts. They were marvelously huge, at least ten inches in diameter each. She put her hands on her swollen tits and felt them. "Gosh, they're big! They grew so fast overnight! Is this normal, Kerp?"
    "It's nothing to worry about," he replied. "Other agents have experienced the same kind of extreme growth over short periods of time, and have suffered no adverse effects."
    Michelle was still examining her magnificently expanded bosom. "That's good. So I assume this nightgown is supposed to be adjustable in the bust too, right?"
    "Yup. There should be some of those Velcro strips somewhere in that area. Check and see."
    She stuck a hand inside the bodice of her gown and felt around. "Ah! I think this is it," she declared, fiddling with something near her armpit. A ripping sound cut the momentary silence as the right side of her bodice fell open, spilling out one extremely large, bare breast.

She stuck a hand inside the bodice of her gown and felt around. "Ah! I think this is it," she declared, fiddling with something near her armpit. A ripping sound cut the momentary silence as the right side of her bodice fell open, spilling out one extremely large, bare breast.

Kerp laughed at her as he held the paper up to his face in respect for her modesty. Sheepishly, Michelle laughed too as she struggled to tuck her enormous wiggling tit back into the bodice of her gown. She was amazed and pleased at its great size as she wrestled with it.
    Reattaching the Velcro for a suitable fit on both sides, she announced, "Okay, you can look now; I'm decent."
    Damn decent, Kerp thought. "Are you up for another field trip?" he asked, putting the newspaper down. "There's someone I'd like you to meet."
    "Sure, fine with me. I've got no agenda until my leave is over. Who is it?"
    Kerp chuckled. "Well, if you'd asked me that question two weeks ago, I'd have told you we were going to visit the woman with the largest breasts in the world. Then we found Janet DiGiovanni, who turns out to have even bigger breasts."
    "So Janet has the biggest boobs in the world?"
    "As far as we know."
    "What's this other woman's name?"
    "Margaret Herschel. She's in her early sixties. Part of my job is to go visit her every once in a while to make sure she's okay, see if she needs anything. Mostly we just talk. Sweet lady. The mastomitosis enlargement technique you're undergoing now was discovered thanks in part to Mrs Herschel's DNA. She was one of the first FBGB field agents. Knew President Kennedy personally. This was before silicone, when all female agents were naturally busty. Her boobs never stopped growing. They just kept getting bigger and bigger, which was great for her work until they got so big that she couldn't do the job anymore. Poor woman couldn't even get on an airplane."
    "Any particular reason you want to see her?"
    "A hunch. I want to talk to her about what happened after her breasts got so big she had to retire. They had to move her out of her house and into government accommodations."
    "Like Janet Di — whatshername."
    "DiGiovanni. Right. They cut a hole in the second story and moved her out of her house in a truck, just like Janet. When I came to the bureau, I was trained by Jackie Campbell, who had been the lead operative in charge of that action. She was supposed to have been there to oversee things, but Hudson ordered her away on some bullshit stakeout that day. I've always thought that was a little fishy, and now I'm wondering if she was kept out of things because there was something or someone she wasn't supposed to see."
    Michelle sipped her coffee and nodded. "I guess it's a possibility. Where is this Herschel woman now?"
    "She's at the Retirement Center."
    "Where's that?"
    "It's in Virginia, just outside of Richmond. It's officially called the 'Personnel Habitation Compound', but for some reason people don't think that name is warm and fuzzy enough. So we refer to it as the Retirement Center. We can drive down and be in Richmond by early afternoon, get a couple rooms and freshen up, and then go to the Center to see Mrs H. We'll stay in Richmond tonight and be back tomorrow."
    "Sounds more interesting than sitting around here all day. Can you give me about 45 minutes to get ready this time?"
    "No rush. Uh, before you get started, though, I'd like to call a courier to pick up this business card of Mr Nicks' and take it to your friend at the FBI lab. What name and address should I give?"
    "Here, I'll write it down for you." She took a pencil from a caddy on the counter and wrote a name along with the address of the FBI Crime Laboratory on the margin of a page of the newspaper in front of Kerp. He gazed helplessly down her nightgown into the seemingly endless expanse of cleavage that dangled from her chest as she wrote.

Washing herself in the shower, Michelle flashed back to her strange dream: how she had wanted so much for Kerp to see her bare breasts. She considered the intense desire for him in the dream. How odd that was, she thought. And how sweet. Then she remembered that she actually had flashed her boobs at him the night before. Oh shit! she agonized silently. What in the world made me do that? She felt her ears flush.
    After finishing her shower she put on a little make-up and picked out a conservative suit. Matching it with one of the roomy blouses the bureau had sent her, she decided to try on one of her new bras as well. First dressing herself from the waist down, she picked up the big brassiere, slipped her arms through, and tried to fasten it. The clasps were in front between the commodious cups, which made it easier to work with, but after several minutes of tinkering, she was still unable to decipher the many straps and hooks that should hold it together.
    She peeked out the door to her bedroom and called, "Kerp?"
    He appeared from the vicinity of the kitchen holding a towel. "Yeah?"
    "I have a big favor to ask you."
    "Shoot."
    "Do you know how to fasten this adjustable bra?"
    "I do. I've never worn one myself, but it's part of my training as a, uh, Support Operative."
    "Support Operative. Very funny, Kerpalscheiker."
    "Yes, it is funny. It also happens to be my actual title."
    Michelle snickered. So you don't mind adjusting your partner's underwear in the line of duty?"
    "Not if my partner doesn't mind having it adjusted."
    "I'd appreciate it. Don't get fresh, now," she said, wondering if she really meant it.
    "Don't worry, I never make passes at Black Belts."
    Michelle opened her bedroom door all the way, and there she stood — bare from the waist up except for the complex bra she was clutching against her chest.
    He gazed at her huge bust, trying to ignore the enormous expanse of lovely flesh and concentrate on the technical matter at hand. He didn't know whether to curse himself for agreeing to help fix the bra for her, or curse himself for promising not to throw her on the floor and ravish her.
    First he looked at the main clasps that connected the cups in the middle. She had fastened them correctly. Then he needed to be sure the underwire support tab was snapped properly. The trouble was, this was located on the inside of the bra, at the bottom of all that cleavage.
    "Mich, you need to reach down right in here and feel for a little tab with a snap on it."
    She frowned. "Uh — I can't. If I let go of one of these cups, my boob will come out!"
    "Oh. Yeah."
    "Well — go ahead."
    "Huh?"
    "Reach down between them. It's okay."
    "You're sure?"
    Michelle nodded.
    Though the feeling was somewhat like being let loose in a candy store, he also felt like a kid with no money who could only look. There should be hazard pay for this.
    As he slipped his fingers into her deep, warm cleavage, she felt a strange pride and satisfaction in having him attend to her big bosom.
    Meanwhile, in the heat of this sweet torture, Kerp prayed that his hand wouldn't start trembling as he groped around for the snap. He hoped she wouldn't think the trouble he was having was just a pretense to cop a nice long feel. Finally he found it. After making sure it was snapped, he breathed thanks and gently pulled his hand out from between Michelle's enormous swollen breasts.
    Next he checked the straps. With a little tweaking here and there, they tightened up snugly. Then, after fastening various other hooks, buckles, and Velcro pads, he stepped back and surveyed the brassiere. "Give it a try," he said.
    Slowly, she eased her hands away from her huge bust, keeping them close-by in case the bra came undone. But it held together without incident, so she thanked him gratefully and disappeared back into her bedroom to finish dressing.
    As she studied herself in the mirror, she suddenly decided against wearing her conservative suit, in favor of slacks and a nice tight top, maybe with a jacket. After all, she wasn't officially on assignment: casual attire would be acceptable. She whisked off her skirt, shoes, and stockings, and stepped into a pair of dark slacks that she'd taken from her closet. After putting on her tennis shoes, she stood and slipped into one of her new tee-shirts with the extra big bust, and turned to study her image in the mirror.
    She liked those colors together, but the dumb bra ruined the entire effect. Her bust looked all lumpy and angular, as if there was nothing but wadded up newspaper stuffed under her shirt. She looked at herself and sighed. No; she wouldn't let herself be seen like this. So she took the shirt off again and began disassembling the brassiere, determined not to let it defeat her this time. Kerp was going to kill her. Taking the bra off turned out to be much easier than putting it on, and soon she had tossed it onto the bed and was massaging the flesh of her tremendous boobs.
    She put the shirt back on over her bare breasts and tucked it into her slacks. It was too tight at the bust, but she knew how to adjust it to fit. She had learned how the night before, wearing that very shirt, which now needed to be let out yet again. In a few seconds the necessary changes were made, and she smoothed herself out and took stock of her appearance. She loved the way it fit: plenty of room for her lavish bosom, yet it was snug around her waist with no gathers bunching up.
    Yes. That was the look she had wanted. But then the impact hit her. Good grief, she thought. My boobs are enormous! She stared at herself in awe, not knowing what to think of the newly expanded size of her breasts. Maybe I shouldn't go out without a bra, no matter how clunky I look, Michelle mused silently. She untucked the shirt and hiked it up to her neck, baring her immense tits. As she studied them, she began to feel very pleased with them. The great increase in size they had undergone had not effected their shape: they were still extremely pretty. She absent-mindedly swayed from side to side, making her tremendous breasts gently swing back and forth.
    She pulled the shirt back down over her great boobs and tucked it in again. Let's see how much rockin' and rollin' these things will do in this shirt. She stepped back a few paces and walked forward, watching her extravagant bosom in the mirror. There indeed was an awful lot of wiggling going on as she moved, but Michelle found the sight of it appealing, and immediately decided to dispense with the bra.
    Kerp was on-line in the kitchen when Michelle emerged from her room with suitcase in hand and a sheepish look on her face. "I'm sorry," she pleaded.
    "For what?" he asked, looking up from his screen. Seeing her tremendous bosom still undulating heavily under her shirt, he said, "Oh, that. I expected it. Those bras are fine under a sweater during cooler weather, but not in the summer with a light shirt. Once you quit growing they'll make you some nice custom bras that are smooth and chic."
    "Ah — you have have personal experience?" she asked teasingly.
    "Of course. I'm a Support Operative. Ready to go?"
    "Did you get a courier to come pick up the card?"
    "Yep. It's on its way."
    "Then let's go!"

End of Part 2

Part 3