She was still feeling sort of groggy, out of it, when they led her into the laboratory, or whatever it was. Not long after taking those odd blue pills they'd given her, she had felt distinctly odd, in body and mind both. Not sick, exactly, but not normal either. Sort of "loose," she thought - agreeable, pliant. Indeed, she hadn't made much objection when they helped her out of her skirt and top, and she took off her pantyhose and shoes just as readily when asked to. When they gave her a new bra to try on - a colorful one with a butterfly pattern - she only hesitated for a moment, and turned her back on them to put it on.
In the lab, she stood there quietly in her underwear and watched without curiosity as they positioned a little shelf above a five gallon glass bottle. It was a very small and flimsy platform, barely big enough for her to stand on, which she did when asked. She had to balance carefully on it to stay upright, but they assured her she wouldn't have to stay there long. They all moved around in front of her then, behind a glass wall, and she wondered what they were doing there, looking at her. Then one of them pushed a button, there was a loud wooshing sound, and the platform beneath her feet tilted.
She gave a short yelp of surprise and reached out to a nearby wall to steady herself, then found that she wasn't falling, but that her feet and legs were being held. Looking down, she saw that they were inside the bottle up to mid calf! A powerful vacuum was pulling her legs steadily into the neck of the bottle with a strong sucking sound. She was alarmed, but not very much, since it didn't hurt somehow; maybe those funny blue pills allowed this to happen. She only tried half-heartedly to pull herself out. It was useless, anyway. She found herself being drawn in faster after the full part of her calves had squeezed through the neck. The sucking sound became more muffled, and her progress slowed as her thighs began entering.
This is definitely not normal, she thought as she looked down. Her legs were being squeezed together and compressed down and pulled through an opening only a couple inches in diameter. There was a strong feeling of pressure, but no pain. Very odd indeed. She tried to twist her legs around a little, to no effect; she was held fast. She watched for a while, puzzled, as her thighs were slowly sucked into the bottle. How was she fitting into that small space? It looked sort of like a foam sponge being compressed, except it was her!
As her hips began to be compressed as they were drawn into the bottle's neck, she suddenly realized something new was happening. Her crotch had already been pulled past the lip of the bottle, and the suction was starting to tug at her panties! She might not care much about what was happening to her, but she still had her modesty! The pink nylon brief had already retreated a couple of inches down her derriere when she grabbed at the waistband with both hands. She couldn't pull the garment back up, but she satisfied herself that it wasn't going to be pulled off her either. However, her hips were still being pulled into the bottle, to the accompaniment of the increasingly hungry-sounding sucking noises. The air whistled for a moment through the cleft between her butt-cheeks until more of her was drawn in and closed the gap.
In holding up her dignity and her panties, she soon found that her hands were trapped too, pulled inexorably into the bottle's neck. She hadn't had the presence of mind somehow to let go as her panties disappeared down the little hole. As the last full part of her hips was sucked in, she felt herself being pulled in more rapidly again. The vacuum was making short work of her slim waist, tugging her down steadily, then slowing again as her chest started to enter. She could only watch and wonder as it happened now, her arms pinned to her sides and stretched into the bottle with the rest of her lower body.
Though over half of her was now somehow compressed through a tiny opening into a five gallon jug, she didn't seem to mind it for some reason. But then she saw a new worry-her bra was about to be pulled into the neck of the bottle. That her C-cup breasts were already being squeezed up, bulging out of the bra, as her chest was compressed into the bottle, didn't concern her. But the suction might pull her only remaining garment off, and she was still concerned about her modesty. Indeed, as the underbust band entered the neck of the bottle, she felt the cups being pulled down her breasts. She tried once again to wriggle free, to no avail. Then she grabbed at the right strap with her teeth, got a good grip, and held on. It worked. The left cup pulled a little lower, but still (barely) covered her nipple as her breasts were squeezed together and up as they were drawn into the tiny passage. Some push-up bra, she thought for a moment before both breasts and bra were sucked into the bottle with a hollow "thumk."
As her head finally began to be pulled in, she looked at the small group behind the glass, who were closely watching her. Then she closed her eyes, and heard a pop in her ears as she disappeared down the bottle neck. The whooshing sound stopped.
When she opened her eyes again, she found she could see the lab again, though distorted. The feelings she'd felt while being pulled into the bottle were gone now, but were replaced with an overall stuffy, cramped sensation. Trying to move was impossible. Then she could see that there was action in the room. They were picking her up and moving her somehow. When they set her down again, there was a mirror in view. In it she could see a large glass bottle with something in it. Though her vision was distorted, she though it looked like a big pink sausage, though there were some colored things too. It came as a shock when she realized that the colors were those of her bra and panties, and that it was herself, compressed into that glass jug, that she was looking at.
Then she was aware of talking in the room around her. There were words of congratulation, some technical jargon, and the term "Inflatabra." She'd heard that word before, she thought. Her mind was still foggy, but she tried hard to remember what it was. Little by little she struggled to recall the word and its meaning. Inflatabra. A bra that inflated. Bigger bust. Yes. Much bigger. Inflatabra. A bra that inflated...its wearer! That was it! The Inflatabra gave you a bigger bust by inflating your breasts! She felt better for having cleared that up, until she realized that they'd given her a new brassiere to wear before she'd gone into the lab. She suddenly tried to look around to see what was going on, and she listened closely. The words and sounds were muffled, whether by her confinement or still-groggy state she wasn't sure, and she found it hard to sort things out. Finally she locked onto one voice, as it said "...ready to pull the inflation trigger cord."
For the first time she noticed a string coming out of the neck of the jug she was in. It was being held by one of them in the lab. The others were now once again watching her closely. The string was pulled, and she felt a little tug at her back, a muffled hiss and then a sudden pressure in her breasts.
She could only manage a little squeak of surprise as her breasts tried to inflate in the cramped space. The pressure of their expansion was intense. She could see in the mirror as the butterfly pattern of the bra grew, occupying more and more of the bottle. She could feel it too, as her breasts expanded into every nook and cranny that her compressed body wasn't already filling. Soon the butterfly pattern covered almost the whole front of the bottle, and she felt herself being squeezed ever tighter by her own ballooning boobs.
Eventually she could feel her breasts covering even her face, so she couldn't see any more. Just after that, they stopped. Her breasts now occupied almost as much space in the bottle as the rest of her. With the end of the inflation, she found herself a bit more awake, and panic started to creep into her consciousness. She tried to wriggle and free herself, but movement was almost impossible. Opening her mouth to shout for help, she was surprised to find it immediately filled with cloth and skin-her own bra and breast! The left one. The small shift did allow her to see out again, just barely, with her left eye. Almost all sound was completely muffled.
Suddenly she could feel movement, and the scene in front of her changed-the bottle was being picked up! She had hope-they were going to break the bottle off her and release her. Moments went by, and she could see that a door was being opened by whoever was carrying her, and a light went on in the small room beyond. Up she went, past boxes and bottles and shelves, and then stopped. No more movement. Silence. She blinked and strained to see where she was and what was around her. There were other 5-gallon jugs on the shelf with her, and she began to be able to make out patterns in them. They were pink, with butterflies. And blinking eyes.