Warning: The text below is, by its intent, explicit in nature. This is neither intended nor suitable for minors or adults that do not want to be exposed to descriptions of non-realistic sexual intercourse in a fantasy setting.

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The Quest for Bigg’s Bozom

Paul Gerard (a pen name)

First Draft, September 2008

Spellchecked: by computer.

Proof-reading: Kanodin

Author’s note: This is an updated version. The first on wasn’t proof-read when I sent it to TOB. Some comments there do reflect quite correctly on my poor handling of the finer points of the English language. Sorry. I’m an Old Europe guy, I can’t help it. :)

Obscure inspirational music reference:

"You don’t have to know about nuclear physics..." – The Kinks, Natural Gift

Yes, folks. I know that a real life nuclear collider has no similarity to what I made up for this tale, and real research is hard, difficult and highly complex.

Altaerna - A world, where the laws of reality may become mere guidelines at any time, where magic and machinery are intertwined, where all those things creeping in the shadows of fantasy may step forward onto the mind’s stage.

This story unfolds in a time very much like our own.

There was no warning. All of a sudden, the bars on the screen jumped into the red, the sirens blared and the yellow lights all along the tunnel spun in their casings. Jenny Sachek slammed her hand on the big red button in the square of black and yellow stripes, but her response came way too late. The computer had already shut down the accelerators and flooded the vacuum tube with inert gas. It hissed out through the holes in the ruptured pipe. Behind the thick glass pane of the control room, the particle collider’s main chamber filled with dense, white fog. Somewhere distant, a metallic doink, followed by dink-oioioing-ching, echoed through the concrete-lined tunnel stuffed with endless miles of wires.

Carl Sachek stared at the slowly dissolving fog. In desperation, he clutched his head with his hands. He was twenty-nine, a somewhat bland guy with blond, shoulder-long hair, six feet tall, slender and the designated next wunderkind of nuclear and particle physics.

For a while, the only sound was the mixture of faint mechanical groaning and a tink-tink-tink as warm metal cooled down and contracted.

Then he began: "What the double-damned–"

"–fuckin’ shit was–," continued Jenny, with a seasoned couple’s routine.

"–that?!" They finished the well-deserved curse together.

Carl had met Jenny at the university, and against all odds, he had caught her eye. The 5’7 brunette with the huge ponytail, the semi-slender figure and the weighty rack had been elected Miss High Power Electronics for three semesters in a row, on account of not only having one of the quickest minds in the business, but also one of the best lab coat racks to distract from it. An attentive observer might’ve noticed the matching pair of rings on their fingers. And even though it seemed, at times, that they were married to their work, they were in fact married to each other.

And now they were buried under two hundred feet of rock, in the heart of the biggest research laboratory of planet Altaerna, and thirty billion dollars of equipment had just conked out on them, for no apparent reason. Someone would have to answer for that, and they knew the finger-pointing would start any second now. The design for the big particle accelerator was theirs, after all.

"Alright, your turn to call the ssssssssnake," said Jenny, grinning without much humor.

"My turn? Oh come on! She hates me!" protested Carl.

Jenny shook her head. "No. She only despises you. It’s me she hates. Now be a good boy and call her." She rolled her shoulders and swayed her hips, dancing on the spot, while she slowly opened the first pair of buttons on her lab coat. Naked skin and a deep cleavage showed. "Or your fuel rod’s not getting any tonight." She ran her index finger over the buttons and then slowly into the warm valley between her breasts. Her tongue moistened her lips.

He ruffled his hair and jumped out of his chair, his eyes sparkling with anger. Shaking his fists at the ceiling and the cold light of the neon tubes, he fell to his knees and yelled, "curse you, woman! Foiled again!" in his best mad scientist impersonation. She chuckled, bowed down while buttoning up her coat again, put her hands on his cheeks and kissed him on the forehead.

"I’m sorry, Doctor Frankenstein. But your creature’s dead, again, and it’s time to face the angry mob. This Igorette is already off to the hills."

He smiled and sighed. "Yeah, I guess it’s not going to get better if we wait until she sees the error protocol. Best to call her right away and get it over with." He picked up the phone. "Or maybe I should get a flute to charm the snake?"

The snake was Caryn Dobbs. She was a short blonde of thirty-two years who wore her long hair in a tight bun at all times. Her face was pale and narrow, and her chilly, ice blue eyes narrowed frequently, too, and shot their stares through an equally narrow pair of plain glasses on her pointy nose. "Radiation shielding" was what the whole team called it behind her back, since they served no other purpose than to make what to Caryn might seem like a fashion statement.

Her body was slender to the point of seemingly ready to snap at the faintest touch, and rumor had it she had been born with a calculator instead of a heart. Her cold, ruthless efficiency had led her to a position where her signature graced all of Jenny’s and Carl’s paychecks. In all matters concerning finance, she was the facility’s ultimate verdict. And beneath her cold, toxic demeanor, she hated Jenny, the big-breasted, tall, easy-going, bubbly party girl with looks and brains, with all the fervor she could muster.

Carl put the receiver back on the phone, stuck his finger into his ringing ear and turned it a few times. "Ouch. Yes, she’s not happy, that much I can tell right away. She’ll be here in fifteen minutes. Let’s do a preliminary damage check."

They slowly, carefully made their way into the collision chamber. The huge, hundred feet cubical cave was mostly empty, save for a platform with a hand rail in the middle where the two ends of the kilometers of the circular tube were some day going to meet and spit their deadly beams of hard radiation into each other. Despite the spectacular failure, the room did not seem to be contaminated. They weren’t going to bet their lives on it, though. Jenny and Carl donned their gloves and breathing filters and held their radiation detectors before entering.

Jenny inspected the ruptured tube with her Geiger counter, tied to a two yard pole. When the device in her hand remained silent except for the occasional tick of the unavoidable background radiation, she put it down and stepped closer to the damaged tube.

"Wow, look at that. The beam has torn right through the pipe. The edges are," she carefully touched it with her fingers, "still warm, and totally smooth and rounded." She wrapped her fingers around it.

"Mmmh. Darling?" Jenny stared at him, lowered her eyelids and licked her lips while her fingers slid slowly back and forth over the eight-by-two inch tube. "Does that give you any ideas?"

He gently slapped her heart-shaped buttocks when he walked up to her with his own radiation counter to confirm her measurement. She jerked and giggled as he ran the antenna up between her legs.

"Meep… meep meep meep… ee-uu-ee-uu-ee-uu. Oh, there’s a very hot spot here!" he joked.

She pushed his hands away and looked around. "No, seriously. Shouldn’t we put some barrier tape up around here?"

He lifted his mute Geiger counter, its motionless needle far to the left in the green of the scale. "Nah, no need to. Speaking as a nuclear engineer, it’s cold as ice in here. Weird. I had half expected the place to glow in the dark, after that bang. Anyway, it’s not like there’s dozens of people running around here. And who’d be dumb enough to poke their head in here, even if the thing once in a golden while worked the way it should?" He bent down and pulled at a cable which led into a big pipe. On the far end, a plug came off with a snap, and a faint, distant hum stopped. "See here, offline now. Not a chance for a runaway reboot."

"Good. We better hurry and get back in the control room." Jenny pointed over her shoulder to the flashing light on the wall. "The snake’s in the lift."

The doors of the elevator hissed open.

"Here it comes now," uttered Carl from the corner of his mouth, while Caryn stormed out of the box. She put her feet down, rose to her full height of 5'2 and put her hands with the, arrgh, inevitable clipboard on her hips. While she stared at the couple, Jenny and Carl developed a sudden interest in the wall behind their supervisor. Anything to avoid looking at the tiny beanstalk in the much too wide lab coat, and it wasn’t even buttoned right.

After almost a minute of awkward silence, Carl made a rookie mistake.

He showed movement by slowly dragging his foot and biting his lower lip. Caryn’s head snapped over to him. She took a deep breath, and dove right into the unavoidable lecture. About the security, about the necessity of regulated proceedings, and finally, the one most dreaded argument:

"You know, your expensive toys are paid for by the taxpayers. They want results. Yes, yes, I know. Basic research and stuff. But this is not your little sandbox project– Yes?!" she added, swiveling to Jenny. "You wanted to add something to the conversation?"

Jenny, caught in a grammar school flashback moment, turned bright red, slowly lowered her finger and stared at the floor, avoiding the accountant’s glare.

"Very well. I didn’t think so, either," Caryn hissed triumphantly. "I’ll deal with you next, so just wait your turn! Well? Is nobody going to lead me to the scene of the crime?"

While they walked on to the control room, Carl, out of desperation, tried a little smalltalk.

"Ah, I see you’re wearing one of the institute’s crystal pendants."

Silence.

"You know, we’re going to use the very same crystals for the beam concentrators. The particles curve through the crystal grid, and then…"

Silence, even more of it. His voice seemed to get sucked away into it.

"Careful on the floor grille with your high heels! Ah-hem, uh. This is not a cozy office, Mrs. Dobbs."

Finally, Caryn showed some response. She clenched her fists and hissed, "Oh shut up! Shut up! Your idea of chit-chat is a disaster! And do you really think I don’t know my way around a lab? You think this lab coat is some sort of fancy dress? Do not belittle me, Mr. Sachek, just because I know how to dress and walk. The world does not revolve around you long-haired, unshaved, unkempt hippy freaks in sandals! Alright, give me a run-down and a list of replacement parts." She stared at them, contempt in her eyes. "Oh, forget the run-down. Just list the things you’ve broken this time."

Twenty minutes later, she tugged her pen back into her chest pocket and closed her notepad with a slap.

"Right. If you find anything else to waste other people’s money on, don’t call me. The replacement parts will take a month to arrive. Might I suggest you actually do something productive in the mean time, like, uh, filling out the last quarter’s paperwork that I’m still waiting for?"

"Oh come on!" protested Carl. "You need a month? For ordering that piece of pipe? I could rig this in less than a week! It’s no special material or stuff, it’s just the vacuum connector–"

The stare from her ice blue eyes made the air between her and the couple freeze. "It will take a month. Take my word for it, it will now, one way or the other."

"What?! You – You can’t do that! Who’s wasting taxpayer money now?!" Jenny complained, almost screaming.

Caryn silenced her with a single glance. "We’re behind schedule by almost nine months now. Maybe you think this is a kind of pregnancy, but let me tell you, above ground there are a lot of people who consider this here an industrial endeavor! I’m beginning to doubt the chairman’s wisdom of putting two engineers so young and inexperienced in charge of such a big project. And I’m not alone with those doubts. If this goes down the drain, the press will hang you for it. You mess this up, you never see the inside of a lab ever again."

"And yet you drag this out for another month? You’re setting us up for failure! You–"

"This conversation is over." She turned away and stormed to the elevator. Scientists! Expensive lab rats, the lot of them. If I never see another one for as long as I live…

Carl stared after her, shook his head in disbelief and raised his arms. "Did you hear that? I mean, it’s not like we broke that damn thing on purpose! We’re doing diagnostics for two months now. The design is rock solid, but there’s a bug as big as a house somewhere in that cursed jigsaw puzzle of lowest-bidder shit! What does she want us to do, point to an arbitrary cable and say, I sense this one’s responsible?! Every damn nut and bolt in this thing has been triple-checked, it should work like a fuckin’ Swizz* clockwork! Yet all we get out of it is Swizz* cheese!"

(* Swizz is a small, mountainous country in the center of Altaerna’s main landmass. For centuries, it has gained fame as a supplier of precision mechanics and delicious milk products.)

Jenny ruffled her husband’s hair and pecked him on the cheek before wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head on his shoulder. "Don’t be mad, dear. Imagine, a whole month on leave. Paid leave. Lots of time to find out what your fuel rod can do in my reactor and for slamming hot things into each other. – See, you’re smiling again. Don’t let that snake poison your mood. She can’t do half of what she’s boasting."

He kissed her back and nodded. "I’m feeling better already."

"Good. Remember, you have that press meeting today, too."

"What?! Aw crap! When?"

Jenny glanced at her PDA.

"Uh, in–"

Her eyes widened as the tiny device automatically updated its calendar.

"–shit! In ten minutes! That damned snake! She’s moved it forward by two hours before she came down here!"

"Gods! All right, I’ll patch this cabling up as good as I can, and you run and get my good suit from the locker room. Meet me at the lift in five. Finding out why exactly that piece of shit broke again will have to wait."

He managed to meet up with the reporters just in time, while deep in the bowels of the machine, a sole screen, forgotten in the frantic rush to the conference, slowly filled with status messages.

Checking detector ... fail. Signal cable loose. Retry delay: 1 minute.

The elevator door slid open again. Caryn stepped out into the empty control room, lifting the clipboard in her one hand and the pen in the other.

"Would one of you lovebirds just for a moment care enough to sign their requests? I swear–"

She stopped and looked around. The room was empty, as was the experimentation chamber. "Oh yeah. The conference," she giggled. "That was so totally worth it." Her expression changed into a frown. "Damn, but now I’m stuck with those unfiled requests. Shit! Maybe petty revenge doesn’t pay after all." Then she saw the screen.

"Fail? Fail?! This thing just got half a million dollars more expensive, and they run off and leave it toasting? It’s an effing power hog, but nooo, those – ah, to hell with them." She punched a few keys on the computer until a diagram of the detector came up. "Fuck. A cable? That’s all? And they don’t even bother to fix such a little snag? If I want anything done around here, I’ve got to do it myself!"

She stepped through the heavy steel door and out into the cavern. Trampling down the few feet of steel grille stairs to the main floor, Caryn kept on cussing under her breath. Her mood didn’t improve when she saw the three-feet pipe the cable went into.

"Damn sloppy scientists!" hissed Caryn as she went down on all fours and crawled into the tight space, every now and then pushing her pens back into her pocket. The pendant slipped out of her shirt and then bobbed beneath her neck with every step.

Amidst the switchboard of green lights, buried in the pipe to protect the electronics from stray particle beams, a single socket complained with quick yellow flashes. She shook her head and plugged the loose cable back in. After a few flickers, the light on top of the socket shone in a steady green. "See, all better now. What do we pay those idiots for?"

Checking detector ... online.

Calibration run active.

Releasing initial particle burst.

Half a circle away, out of sight and far out of hearing range, particle source no. 15 sprung into action with a hum, sending two swarms of hardonite ions on their way to explosive termination.

On her hands and knees, Caryn wiggled backwards out of the tight space. While she still knelt on the catwalk, her ears picked up the humming and rattling as it quickly approached through the tunnel. She eyed the open pipe and thought she’d have spotted a faint glow in the narrow center hole, growing brighter.

"What the–oh crap."

The two beams, one from the front, one from behind, collided right inside the pendant dangling from her neck. The crystal lit up, swallowing the whole load and focusing it to its center. The hardonite bursts met and shattered, the room drowned in glaring white, and Caryn’s body was showered with a myriad of the long-searched-for particles: Bigg’s elusive Bozoms.

In the wake of the shock wave, the laws of reality bent and twisted out of shape.

Carl put down the earmarked book and smiled, a little bit uneasy, to the army of microphones and cameras. "Well, a short summary of what we’re doing here. Since you’re here at our press meeting, I guess you’ve all heard of Hieronymous Bigg, the late godfather of just about ninety percent of the stuff that makes up the world of subatomic particles. He was quite the crazy guy. Gifted too, for sure. He made his calculations, upon which we’ve based this huge research machine, half a century ago, and they remain spot-on to this day. He never was happy with the whole Superstring theory stuff. He postulated a whole new family of particles instead, the Bigg’s Bozoms, Bigg’s Buttoms, whatnot. Together with anti-particles, like the Pure Itans and swarms of Bi-gottz, which seek to hide the effects of Bigg’s Bozoms and Buttoms. Supposedly they show up at the edge of the subatomic world, if you pump them hard enough."

"So they don’t show in everyday life."

"No, of course not. Well, actually, yes, all the time, but at our size, so many of those interactions happen simultaneously, they cancel each other out. We don’t notice them."

"And that’s why you built this machine."

"Me? Oh no. Such a huge project isn’t something you should credit to a single person. Thousands of contributors have slaved away countless hours to get where we are now. We’ve been building it for almost a decade. I’ve started my studies here when it was just a hole in the ground."

"But you are the person responsible for just about all of the designs, are you not?"

Caryn blinked. Her eyesight returned slowly. Violet spots danced before her eyes, and as she turned and looked around, everything seemed to drag a whirl of sparkles and colorful halos.

She felt dizzy. Dizzy and – heavy? She narrowed her eyes and tried to get some orientation. Laying on the floor. Cold metal grates pressing into her skin. What had just happened? She remembered the cable; she had plugged it back in, then – what?

Oh gods. The collider! The radiation! I was right in the middle–

She staggered to her feet and then to the man-sized box near the stairs. Still dizzy, she put her hands into the designated tubes and held her breath as the clear plastic plate slid closed behind her. Her heart pounded loud in her ears, fear and adrenaline flooded her body. With a jerk, the machine began to rattle and grind and a narrow band of light moved over her figure, indicating where the detectors currently were.

Twenty seconds can be an eternity.

Ding.

Contamination: Zero.

She exhaled and leant against the side of the machine, clutching her face with her hands as tears of relief ran over her cheeks. Just then she noticed the soft resistance that her elbows kept digging into. Puzzled and suddenly nervous again, Caryn looked down.

"Some say you’re trying to create magic, Mr. Sachek, and that those experiments must be stopped."

He sighed and held his temples. Moments later, he smiled back at the reporter woman. "Yes, I guess some say. Magic! That’s just a pretty word for the sad admission of I don’t know what you do, but stop it because I’m too stupid to care and prefer to be afraid." He hesitated for a moment. "I’m sorry. It’s just that we’ve been hearing this cra–these unfounded accusations ever since the first man dared to cook meat instead of eating it raw.

No, according to Bigg, the Bozoms can alter local properties of time and space. If you want to call that magic, be my guest. To us here at the Large Head-on Collider, it’s the promise of alternative ways to power cars or planes. Clean fuel. Or new medical treatments. That’s the promise we’re looking at. All we do here is try to find out just how much of that is even remotely feasible. We’re not here to blow up the world. That’s traditionally the politicians’ job."

Across the room, from behind the reporters, Jenny gestured to him to keep it down. One more of those quips, and it’s bye-bye research grants, Carl!

Caryn stared at her rounded-out blouse, at the flesh valley that showed through the neckline, in – what? Fear? Bewilderment? Satisfaction?

All of that. Her mind went into a kind of shock. She slowly, like in a trance, took the stairs up to the control room. Slowly, she stepped into the elevator. Slowly, with uncertain movements, she entered her office and sat down at her table, staring straight ahead, oblivious to the occasional ringing of the phone.

The evening went into the night. The building grew silent as it was slowly deserted. Darkness filled her room. She didn’t stand up to switch on the light. Occasionally, she lifted a hand and groped the soft, warm mounds on her chest.

Past midnight, her body began to move again. Her chair toppled as she rose to her feet. Slowly, she put on her coat, not bothering to take off the lab coat first. Slowly, she walked through the empty lobby and out into the parking lot. Slowly, she climbed into her car and turned the key.

She’s a brick… (uh!) houuuuse! The lady’s stacked…, blared the radio.

Caryn blinked. Her mind sped up just far enough to not cause instant death as her car swerved into the main road.

…mighty, mighty, lettin’ it all hang out…

Across the road, she spotted the sign that she had been on the lookout for.

…built like an Ama-ka-zon…

Ding went the doorbell as she stepped into the pharmacy. She stared in bewilderment at the rows and rows of similar-looking cans of toothpaste and vitamin pills and dietary add-ons. Finally, she addressed the clerk who was reading a magazine on the counter.

"Lubricant?"

"Second row to the r–," he began and halted as he looked up. "Uh, are you alright, Miss? Do you need help?"

She stared right through him, but at least she blinked now. "What? No. No, I’m fine. Lubricant?"

He sighed as she made no effort to move. "Alright, let me get it for you."

"The biggest bottle you have."

He raised his eyebrows. "Well, it’s none of my business, but you might want to take it slow for a while, you’re looking–"

"It is none of your business," she cut him off.

He bit his lip. Damn late-night shift. You get all those strip-club hookers with their freaky implants and their poor cosplay. A lab assistant? High heels and glasses? Who she thinks she’s fooling? A girl like her shouldn’t have to do that kind of work. She could work someplace they don’t oust her once she’s thirty. Maybe in accounting, if she laid off the drugs. Man, her eyes are really freaky. Snake.

Caryn’s car pulled into the driveway of her condo. On the backseat, two three-gallon plastic cans of medical grade lubricant gurgled as her car bumped over the curb.

She put them down right in the middle of her bedroom and proceeded to unwrap her own cans. Together with the building anticipation in her body, the slowness of her movements had returned. The lab coat was the first thing to go. Then, button by straining button, she freed her cleavage and heedlessly dropped her blouse. The cloth was stretched beyond repair anyway.

She never had needed a bra before, and against all odds, she needed none now. Her new breasts were taut, shiny half-melons glued to her thin frame, with rough nipples the size of strawberries on top of bulging orange halves of wrinkly brown areolae.

Caryn undid her plain, long skirt’s belt and stepped out of it as the skirt curled around her feet. Her fingers dug into the rim of her lace panty and pulled, hard, harder, until it ripped apart. Its remains joined the other items of her clothings strewn across the floor.

She bent down and unscrewed the palm-sized lid of the first canister. Caryn lifted it up over her head, straightening herself all the way. She threw her head back, closed her eyes, and turned the sloshing container upside down.

The clear, thick liquid oozed in reluctant globs from the spout and splattered on her face, coating it completely. It slipped over her breasts as she shook the can and more and more of it spewed out. The cool goo added to the already impressive weight of her breasts. It stuck in her cleavage and crept only slowly into the deep abyss. Goose bumps covered her body as the sticky, slippery liquid emerged at the other end of Tit Valley, clung to her skin and finally dripped in big chunks from the underside of the round orbs, dragging thin, glistening filaments along.

She dropped the half-empty plastic can, which bounced around on the floor, spraying long spurts of the lubricant over her shins and ankles and across the floor. Caryn ran her widespread fingers down her face, digging trenches into the clear coating. Her hands moved over her neck, back up through the matted, drenched blond hair; down again over her shoulders where big lumps of the gelatinous lube rested. She grabbed them and squeezed the cool semi-liquid through her fingers. More viscous filaments oozed down. She stood in a growing puddle of shiny goop. This wasn’t the time for gentle, dancing fingertips. She longed for a giant’s hand to grab her, her whole body, to try and crush her while she wiggled and squirted through his fingers like a slippery, slimy squeeze toy, bulging everywhere.

Her hands moved from her collarbones down to the taut, glistening breasts, cupping them. The feeling brought her to her knees. She kneaded and rubbed the skin, feeling her new flesh slide through her fingers, covered in oily shine.

Caryn woke and couldn’t remember how she got home. Her eyelids seemed glued shut, and she rubbed them gently until something – eeuugh! – like dried scraps of skin came off. Bewildered, she gazed around.

She was totally unprepared for the chaos that greeted her. Her clothes were strewn across the floor. The floor was covered in puddles of half-dried goo. Her bed was crumpled and drenched in sweat and – Ewww! What is this? What the hell? she thought, gasping for air in fearful surprise. The clear, slimy liquid was all over her body, too. She stared at the label on the canister that laid beside her on the bed.

Lubricant?! Three gallons of – of lube? Oh gods, what happened yesterday?

She shut her eyes and turned off the light, in the childish hope the mayhem would simply disappear when it came back on. Instead, more weirdness showed up.

Not being distracted by sight, she noticed that her pussy felt stretched, widened far beyond what she had known so far. A little fingering every now and then did wonders to her mood, but this – the feeling of room went all the way to her belly.

No. Not room. Make that object. Something stuck in her. Her eyes snapped open in the darkness. The sight of her room without the light on was weirder still.

All over the walls and ceiling, afterglowing spots and spurts painted a picture of greenish, phosphorous lines that reminded her very much of the particle tracks in the collider’s evaluation graphics. And in the corner, there was a single red dot, like the gleam in a cat’s eye. Her webcam. Active. Recording.

Caryn strained to get up, but the movement only reminded her of the unknown thing in her womb. She fumbled for her crotch and touched a thin cable that hung from her vulva. Panting in fear, she grabbed and pulled at it.

The pain made her squirm on the bed. Tears streamed from her eyes. Oh gods. How am I gonna get this out? I can’t go to the hospital. They’d all know. No. No, I can’t – I can’t –

Her head bumped into the canister of lube.

After struggling with herself for a few moments, she dug a handful of the slime from it. Pushing her hip up by digging her shoulders and heels into the bed, she widened her labia with two fingers and smeared the sticky, slippery glob into her. The cold juice slowly, soothingly seeped down her aching tube. Waiting for it to arrive at the lump in her womb, her fingers meanwhile followed the cable to the end not hidden inside her.

She knew the square shape of the plug.

USB. I’ve shoved some USB thing into me. Oh gods, please, don’t let that be one of the hard drives. Oh please, she begged in silence.

Pulling gently at the cable, the strange thing inside her began to move. Her tube stretched effortlessly now, the only snag she hit was close to the end. And even then, all she needed was a little pressing and groaning, and the mystery object very nearly shot out of her. Dripping, and definitely a total loss now, her expensive designer mouse hung from the cable. She breathed hard and turned her head back to the video camera.

Caryn jumped off the bed and ran to the tiny keyboard. More globs of slime hung on the huge, wall-mounted screen above it, but it came alive without a hitch. Breathing rapidly, she checked the machine for outgoing connections.

Caryn exhaled in relief. The camera was on, but at least it hadn’t sent the signal to someone else. There was only a single video file from the motion-detection surveillance software, right on the desktop.

rec00001.mpg

She stared at the icon, wondering if she really wanted to know. If she really wanted to open the video file. If she dared to find out what she had done with two containers of lube and her computer peripherals.

Caryn took a deep breath and double-clicked. And then she almost forgot to keep on breathing as she stared at the video. Drop by drop, the lube seeped out of her pussy and drenched her seat. She didn’t care. She just kept staring at the body that, in the tiny, low-res window, walked into the bedroom. It moved like hers. The face was hers. The legs, the hips, the tight ass, the slender build. It was her, no doubt about it.

Except for the breasts. The big, monstrous, glued-on-type of breasts. Caryn’s mouth fell open and remained like that for the rest of the video. She stared on as the tiny picture of the woman smeared the lube all over herself; as she kneaded and squeezed those huge hooters. It was her. No doubt about it; the face filled the screen when she walked up to the camera and took the mouse from the table and adjusted the zoom and then laid down on her back, her legs spread wide towards the glass eye of the camera, and –

Caryn squirmed and almost missed the crucial moment. But there it was. The mouse disappeared into her, all the way, and her fingers dug into her crotch; she squeezed and pinched the folds around her clit, and then the nipples on the huge mounds rose upwards; milk sprayed everywhere; the breasts began to glow from the inside and grew, and the video went white –

White. Bright white. The blast. The collider.

She remembered now. She remembered – everything. Every single second. Every moment of lust, of the urge, of the want. Every delicious moment of the relentless swelling, pulling, stretching in her breasts; how they grew, eagerly, struggling against the tight blouse, how the cloth slowly crawled over the nervous nipples; she remembered the faint creaking of the threads of the buttons; remembered those endless yet fleeting seconds in the cave when her whole body was engulfed in white fire that lit all her nerves like fuses.

She didn’t scream That can’t be real. She didn’t wail Why. She didn’t ask How. All that mattered to her was that her impossible dream had come true, in the most radical way. And then – she watched the video again – then it had disappeared in a puff of smoke. Or rather in a rain of milk.

For now.

She knew what she wanted to do now, what she had to do. She reached for the phone, but before she could even press one digit, her eyes found the clock. Four in the morning. With a sigh, she let her hand fall down. Calling the Sacheks in for a conference at four a.m. would raise suspicions. For better or worse, she’d have to wait until the regular office hours started.

Five hours. How to pass five hours? It wasn’t exactly sleeping she had on her mind just now.

Her gaze wandered to the second, still unopened canister…

Carl stared at the keycard in his hand. The scanner pad flashed in red, and the door to the technical section remained shut. Jenny bumped into his back.

"Hey! What’s the–"

"Mr. and Mrs. Sachek?" The guard suddenly appeared behind them. "Mrs. Dobbs wants to see you right away."

Caryn put her hands together and smiled at Jenny and Carl. They didn’t quite know how to deal with a smiling Mrs. Dobbs, especially not with a Mrs. Dobbs that had dark rings under her eyes and radiated the kind of sated tiredness they’d never ever expected to see on the snake. So they looked rather puzzled and, given their latest mishap, afraid. Caryn smiled even wider, and she said: "Well? Consider yourself lucky. A month of paid vacation instead of a reprimand! And now off you go! I’ll call you once the repairs are done."

She stared after the bewildered couple that disappeared into the lobby, and the smile disappeared from her face.

"Can’t have you mess around with that gorgeous boob machine! You might break the one sweet spot, you fools. It’s mine! Mine!" she muttered under her breath. Yes. Yes, tonight. I can’t wait. All mine!

By nine p.m., the building was almost empty. Caryn sneaked out of her office, took the elevator to the lowest floor and entered the control room.

She checked the machine’s log file and found what she had been looking for. Configuration, strength, focus point, shape of the impulse. There even was a grainy, blocky video that showed how her pendant had dangled right into the crosshairs, moments before the file ended in a flickering chessboard of data corruption. It didn’t matter; she knew full well what had happened next. The only thing that did matter to her was that now she knew the exact setup of the beam that had given her those wonderful boobs. This time, things would be a little different. Grinning, she clicked on the input box for the launch energy.

She tripled the value, and felt her nipples harden and poke into the cotton of her blouse, their rough skin itching with anticipation. A turn of a key, a press of a button, and moments later, the door of the collider room closed behind her.

Caryn pushed and shoved the empty yellow barrel into the center of the platform, right on top of the X mark. She put a tiny pyramid, with a socket instead of a point, on top of the impromptu table, and pulled her crystal pendant from her neck. The chain ripped; she didn’t care. Staring at the screen with the crosshairs, she carefully adjusted her pendant on the tiny pedestal, smack dab in the center of the beam’s path, then she pushed the button on the remote. While the numbers ran backwards, Caryn leant forward, closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around the barrel.

Give it to me. Make me BIG.

The status lights along the wall turned from white to red. Beam active lit up on the panel. A quickly descending, electric eeeeooouuurrmmm noise resonated through the chamber. Its low end made the stairs rattle. There was no blinding flash of light this time. Her body had already been primed the last time. It was a ready and willing sponge for all that the machine could give.

A rubbery, stretching noise, an unnatural gnnniiiiiiieeeeee emanated from her chest. The lab coat rode up on her waist. The cloth bulged, much further than the last time. Caryn’s knees turned into jelly. She slid down along the barrel, and each of the metal ribs that her nipples bumped into was another bolt of lust. Oh – oh yes! That’s what I wanted! Oh gods, this is the best! But I mustn’t be careless. This was so much more than the last time. She reached for the portable Geiger counter, switched it on and lifted the detector tube.

She stared at the round, metallic shape in her hand. And then she pursed her lips, licked over the tip and slowly swallowed the six inches of cool steel, coating it with her saliva, wrapping her lips around it, caressing every square inch.

Beep-boop. Radiation: none detected.

Inch by fraction of an inch, she pulled the hollow piece of metal, now warm to the touch of her fingers and dripping wet, from her mouth. Rubbing it over her cheek, she licked it again, then slowly stuck it into her deep, itching cleavage. It disappeared completely; only the black, half-inch thick cable sprouted from between her breasts.

Beep-boop. Radiation: none detected.

Caryn dragged the sensor out of her cleavage by its cable tail. She ran the warm pipe over her belly, through her blond bush and then all the way along her wet, full labia. Spreading her legs, she took aim with the round tip, hesitated…

A thin trickle ran along the shiny metal. It dripped over her fingers. And the very next moment, she had impaled herself on the warm tool. Caryn dropped to her knees, overwhelmed by ecstasy.

Beep-boop. Radiation: none detected.

No contamination. No danger. The relief over this only fueled her excitement further. She recklessly shoved the slick pipe in and out of her trembling hole, grabbing the rail in front of her with one hand while the other worked the depth of her vagina with the unyielding steel. Her body bucked and shook, her new heavy, baggy breasts quivered and bounced on her chest.

Intermission:

Things You Should Know About … Geiger Counters.

The sensor of these devices is a hollow container, filled with isolating gas. Whenever a radiation particle hits a gas atom, a little electric arc forms between a central wire in the pipe and the casing, which causes the "tick" of the counter.

Why does the arc form? Well, because there’s high voltage applied between the core wire and the casing. It is therefore not advisable to operate those devices in a wet environment unless they are specifically designed for it.

Moisture seeped from Caryn’s pussy. It trickled over the wrinkled inner labia and ran down in a long, thin filament that only ripped into fat drops after almost a finger’s length. She grabbed the tube harder. The plastic where the handle met the metal creaked and bent as she spun the shaft inside her like a spoon in a bowl. Almost, raced through her mind, almooooost there, just a little more; just a little more; oh gods, I’m burning up; deeper, it’s got to go deeper–

The handle gave in. Her juices seeped into the plug of the tube.

Crackle. Brrrrzzzz.

Caryn’s painful holler echoed around the circular tunnel. Her body went bolt upright as her back muscles convulsed under the electric stimulation. The steel tube groaned and collapsed, crunched by the forced, unyielding single contraction of her vagina. As it shorted out for good, even more power streamed into her. Mounting contractions and the copious lube dictated the one way the pressure could vent. Her labia bulged, then her pussy spat the bent and deformed piece of metal out, together with a bolt of thick, clear liquid that splashed into a rain of sticky drops as it hit the floor. The tube bounced off the metal grille, disappeared over the edge of the elevated area and dragged the display box behind it on its sputtering, ruptured cable.

Even with the electrical whip finally gone from her insides, the fluttering tide of cramps raced on over her body, one wave down along her thighs, knees, shins, ankles, feet; the other, as a rolling sling of pain, upwards. It passed her waist; it ran over her stomach, over the short ribs, and it focused into her breasts, drawn in by greedy flesh still brimming with the Bozom particles.

Her face was turned up to the ceiling, to the long, dark maintenance tunnel connecting the chamber to the surface. She didn’t see how the skin over her breasts began to glow with an inner light, how they seemed like Chinese lanterns filled with fireflies, and what she felt as painful contractions under the electric spasms was in fact expanding flesh straining against the skin it was wrapped in. Only painful seconds later did the taut tissue grow along to accommodate the new, overripe melons dangling from her ribs.

Yet that wasn’t the first thing on her mind when the cramps disappeared and she could sort of move by her own will again.

Oh gods, she panicked, my legs! My legs! They’re numb! I can’t feel my legs!

She dropped to her knees, swayed for a few moments and finally fell on the floor as she lost consciousness.

She woke, by three a.m., with her breasts still big and heavy. This time, the growth had not disappeared in a blast of milk. Rolling on her back, Caryn ran her hands over the soft, protruding orbs that flattened under their own weight. She frowned.

That’s not what I was aiming for. No. They are so … so ordinary. So fat and flabby. I wanted big, taut, round melons! I put in three times the – damn! Three times as much volume. That’s next to nothing! To get double the size, I need two to the power of three for the volume. Should’ve typed in eight times as much energy!

Her eyes turned to the window of the control room.

Well, that’s easy enough to fix.

She rolled over and struggled to get up on all fours. Reaching for the handrails around the platform, she almost fell again but managed to catch hold of the lower rails. Looking over her shoulder, she saw her feet, and she could see them move, but they prickled and ached, like right after sitting too long on a nerve. She clumsily managed to get upright and took a wobbly step towards the stairs, but fell forward again. Her new double-melons dragged her on. She reached for the steel pipe in front of her.

Caryn held on to the rail and panted, oblivious to her heavy and wildly swinging breasts that kept on dragging her towards the floor and threw her balance off. She struggled upright. Momentarily letting go of the rail, she reached for the next grip ahead as she took another step forward with trembling knees.

Her high heels got stuck in the grating floor. Stumbling, flailing her arms, she fell backwards, instinctively pushing out her rear to soften the fall.

Schlurgh–doomph.

Caryn screamed in surprise and pain. The open tube of the ruptured particle rail slipped right into her wide open pussy, by the same stupid twist of fate that causes a crumpled piece of paper to hit precisely the edge of a trashcan.

Accelerator pipe re-sealed.

Commencing pre-run to regular operation.

Restoring low pressure in pipe. Pumps active.

Sucking and squelching, the pipe wormed itself deeper into her until the cold metal collar of the insulating outer hull was up against her ass, stopping the penetration. Slowly, the hum of the magnets and generators grew louder. The red light in front of the tunnel jumped to green. Beam charging in progress. Clear the collider room, said the sign that lit up on the wall above the thick glass pane.

"Uh...," she groaned as she strained against the warm pole in her crotch, but the constant suction made sure she stayed put. Her voice toppled as she screamed in panic. "Help! Jenny? Carl? Anyone?!"

Eeeeeoooouuuurrrrrmmmm thundered the machine as the surge approached.

"No! Oh no! Too muuuuuooooaaahhhhh!"

And the next copious load of radiation, warm and prickly and tingling with energy, and oh so very satisfying, was injected into her, from right out of the narrow hole in the sucking tube in her pussy. The particles scattered and bounced all around her body, and she shivered in delight.

Gnneee–e–e–errrrchhhh.

"Nnnngh–," moaned Caryn, her skin growing tight around her expanding breast flesh, and then she exhaled in a blissful, open-mouthed "ooouuuaaaaaaahhhhh" as her skin relaxed and adapted around the new inner fullness.

Initial beam fired successfully read the message on the lone, unguarded screen in the empty control room. Commencing automated operation.

The signal lights in the chamber quickly cycled green-red-green. Caryn, clutching her new, much more shapely breasts tight, stared in fear at the countdown. She struggled again, but she couldn’t break free.

"No! No! Oh gods, NO! That’s enough! Enough! Can’t nobody hear me?! I’m stuck in here! Switch it off!"

Just to her right, a big, red button labeled Emergency Shutdown was mounted on the handrail. She strained to reach it, but it might as well have been a whole continent away.

"Somebody help me! I’m going to blow up like a balloon! Oh please!" she wailed.

Eeeeooouuurrrmmmm, was the answer, immediately followed by:

Gnnoooouuurrr–b–b–b–b.

This time, the stretching noises’ resonance was already lower on the scale, as more volume grew, quivered and shook. The new burst bloated her breasts big enough to fill out her wide, white lab coat almost to the point of ripping open. The pens in the chest pocket, caught between the growing nipple beneath and the taut cloth above, creaked and –

Gnnnerch went Caryn’s huge chest again as a belated Bigg’s Bozom found its way into the ample particle trap of her body, swelling them just a little bit further.

– they finally cracked, being bent too far out of shape. The cotton groaned over her pumpkin-sized breasts.

Only spurious particle scatter paths recorded, said the screen.

Insufficient data to analyze. Repeat firing until input puffer filled.

In the darkness of their bedroom, Carl fumbled for the telephone and, flipping the thin mobile open, rolled on his back.

"Uh. Yes? This better be important," he mumbled.

"Sachek? Peterson here, collider power station. Open your curtains and look outside."

Carl exhaled, deeply annoyed. "Peterson, it’s two–," he took a quick glance at the mobile’s display, "no, three in the morning. If you think that’s funny, then–"

"Open the damn curtains and tell me what you see!" blared the voice from the tiny speaker.

Carl groaned as he felt for the button of the bedside lamp. Click went the switch, but the result was disappointing. In the dark, he swung his feet out of the bed and stepped smack dab on the edge of one of his sandals. Cursing mutely, he reached for the blinds.

"Peterson, I don’t see a thing," he whispered into the phone, so as not to wake up Jenny. It had been a draining evening.

"Amazing, isn’t it?" sneered the loudspeaker. "You don’t see a thing because all the fuckin’ power of the district has been automatically routed into the collider. Now, I know you’re not eager to replace every single fried supermagnet in your contraption, and I know you know that’ll happen if the lines break down and your nuclear merry-go-round is still up and running, so get your ass in gear! We’re reading deep yellow on the power lines, and the cameras in the accelerator are still on the blink. The fuck! Did you forget to switch off your big bad toy again? You better show up quick, because even if I manage to keep the whole thing running, it just needs to keep on sucking that much power for only fifteen minutes more and I’ll have to write a report to the snake for blowing our budget. And you can be sure I’ll mention your name."

Carl blinked and stretched in the darkness. "Nnnngh. Oh come on, Peterson, dammit, that can’t be happening, that’s not how the collider works–"

The man on the other end of the line sneered, "Yeah, you tell me. I can see the wires hanging from the pylons, glowing red in the dark, and my meters are doing the rumba here. Make that ten minutes before I hit the switch and you get the brownout of your life." He hung up.

Jenny stirred. "Mmrgg?" she groaned, rolled over and propped herself up on her elbows. Her hair hung into her face. The water bed under her gurgled as it made way for her bosom while she wiggled into a more comfortable position.

Carl stared at the illuminated Call finished. Please hang up. on his mobile.

"That was Peterson. Said there’s a huge power drain into our machine."

Jenny chuckled. "Uh-huh. Yeees," she yawned, "of course. Because there’s someone sneaking in at night and doing our work for us. Suuuure."

Then both their expressions froze. Jenny and Carl looked at each other, their faces two ghostly blue ovals in the sole light from the mobile.

"Oh–"

"–Shit!"

Jenny jumped out of the bed, and in the darkness, they frantically searched for their clothes. Two minutes and twenty-nine seconds later, Carl started the engine, and their car roared out of the garage into the dark, empty street.

"It’s the snake! It’s her! She snapped, I just know it. First the threats, then the weird meeting yesterday morning, and now this," Carl snarled through his teeth.

"Yes, all right, but keep your eyes on the road!" complained Jenny. "Why are you so tense? We’re almost there, with five minutes to spare. We’ll easily make it."

"Uh, because in the dark, I must’ve picked up your slip instead of my boxers – it’s kinda tight."

She leaned over to him and whispered in his ear: "Why didn’t you do it like me? I’m not wearing any underwear at all–"

The car almost swerved off the road.

"–watch it!"

He groaned. "Did you have to tell me? You’ve woken Carlito, and he’s getting strangled now by your string!"

Underwear malfunctions were forgotten as Jenny and Carl stared into the collider chamber and stood motionless for a few seconds. Then they darted for the door, forced it open and ran down the stairs. Carl almost lost his balance not watching his feet, while he complained: "That isn’t possible! She can’t be alive! She’s just two boobs! Her body can’t work, not like that!"

Caryn moaned, oblivious to the doubts about her prolonged existence.

Jenny shook her head. "No, think about it! Remember what Bigg wrote! He never used the M word, but he hinted at it! Admit it! The machine has created magic! Real magic! Anything-goes magic! Bigg said everything in our world is made from it, at its core, but that it was so evenly distributed, it had no longer any power to flow and change things. That’s what the collider did! It recharged this magical force!"

"Well, great! And what do we do now? Where do we look now? The elf’s handbook? I for one haven’t learned a thing about wand-waving or fuckin’ faery tale shrinking potions when I earned my Ph.D.! And that’s what we’d need right now, or we’ll never get her out of here without someone noticing. She’s two damn winnebagos!" screamed Carl, pointing at the pink balloons.

Eeeeeeoooouuuuurrrrrrrmmmmm.

Jenny and Carl cowered down, but the whole of the radiation got sucked up by Caryn’s monstrous body. And while she blissfully moaned –

"Hhwwwaahhh. Oooouuuhhh. Yeeeeeeessssss. Ahhhh."

Ooouurrrb-urrrrg-urrrg-urrg.

– the rippling, quivering skin grew closer to them. The handrails around the platform dug deeper into the lower half of the swelling orbs. Her breasts rose over the railing like cupcakes in an oven.

"Two and a half," Jenny corrected matter-of-factly. "We better turn this thing off first."

"Don’t you dare," was the commanding reply from somewhere behind the wall of boob flesh. They froze on the spot.

"Come on! Over here! Don’t be so shy, push them out of the way if you can’t get up to the platform, I don’t mind," continued Caryn. "And don’t talk about me like I’m just a slab of meat!"

Jenny walked up to her. "A slab of meat? You’re two slabs of meat! You crazy bitch! Look at you! And you gave us hell, every single day?! Why should we even listen to you now? I just need to make a single phone call, and you’re the freak of the year! The headlines will be even bigger than your boobs! They’ll drag you from city to city! Come, come all and see the hooter monster! Fun and milk for all the family! And I’m shutting this thing down now."

Her hand slammed on the emergency off button. The hum of the recharging generators died instantly.

Caryn’s eyes filled with tears. "No! Oh please, no! Don’t do that! I just wanted –"

"No? No what? No, I don’t want to be a freak, or no, don’t shut it down?"

"Don’t shut it down!" screamed Caryn at the top of her lungs. "I want more! I want much more! Moremoremoremoremore!" she wailed like a kid begging for candy, waving helplessly with her hands from behind the wall of flesh.

"Oh shut up! Shut up!" Jenny cried, and slapped the monstrous breast in her face hard with her flat hand. "Now you suddenly find your–" She fell silent. Caryn had gasped and shut up in surprise, but now her voice returned as shallow, hushed breath.

"Mmmmhh. Do it again! I want more of that. Oh gods. Oh high heavens. This feels so good. The quiver’s all over me. It’s getting better with every gallon. Go on! Slap ’em harder! Slap me! I’ve been a mean, bad girl. I’m a crazy crybaby. You hate me. Punish me! Kick them! I’m not worthy! I’m your slave, your pet, your goose. Oh yes! I’m your turkey! Stuff me!"

Jenny curled her lip in disgust and backed away, desperately fighting the urge to rub clean her hand on her coat, and turned around to face her husband.

"Why the breasts? Why?" mused Carl, staring past her shoulder.

"Well, think about it for a second," Jenny replied.

After a few moments, she shoved him.

He jerked and stuttered, "Huh? Uh, I–"

"Exactly. You can’t think of anything else right now, too. That’s why. It’s magic. And it’s a force of nature, too. It follows the path of least resistance. For thousands of years, our species has been obsessed with boobs. It’s in our genes. Magic only serves to amplify that."

He had stepped past her and neared the pink wall that rose higher than his head. Looking up at it, he mumbled, "Uh, right, I–"

"Oooohhh yessss!" Caryn moaned. Jenny swiveled on her heels.

"Carl? – Dammit, Carl! Hands off! Eyes here!"

Carl stared at his hands wringing the cauliflower-sized nipple of Caryn’s right breast as if those fingers digging and kneading into the taut flesh weren’t his own. "Uh, I – how did I get here?" He jerked back in surprise. "Oh – uh, hi, Jenny, it’s not what it looks like–"

If only to get a single, complete sentence out of Carl, Jenny grabbed him by his sleeves and dragged him back into the control room, and now they were flipping through the huge book of Bigg’s collected rambling writings, searching for an answer. Jenny scratched her head and finally tapped on a paragraph at the bottom of a sheet near the end of the book. The page number was almost in the four digit range.

"Right, I knew I read about it. Says here, according to the supersymmetry hypothesis, there must be a particle that mirrors the Bigg’s Bozom. The Bigg’s Buttom. It’s even heavier than the Bozom. Bigg’s theory was that, with growing energy, they’ll balance each other. And beyond an unknown tipping point, the whole swarm of Pure Itans and Bi-Gottz particles should show up and cause the whole process to reverse. Here, he even drew a diagram. Sort of like a parabolic function. It starts with nothing, then the higher the energy, the stronger the resonance. Vertex point, here. Push beyond that, and the resonance wanes. So she should grow on for a while until she starts to shrink again. Once she’s back to normal, we can get her out of the lab, and nobody’s going to ask questions. Just another stress test gone awry. Horrible electricity bill. Scowling taxpayers. Scientists say sorry, shit happens. The usual. End of story."

He shook his head, unconvinced. "How much energy do we need? It’s just a scribble off the top of his head! He didn’t even label the scales! What if we miss that spot? What if this machine isn’t strong enough to reach it? Dammit, we might be better off checking some of the old magic machines’ descriptions in a museum, faery tales or not."

"Forget it. Not enough time. And no magic machine has ever worked for the last two centuries. The stuff was so unreliable, even then it had been hard to tell what was spoof, fakery or genuine. Like reading an alchemist’s book. I should know, it’s been a hobby of mine when I was in high school. You know, black hair, black mascara, white makeup, Goth creep to the core."

Carl chuckled. "Yes, I remember. You showed me your old photos after we first–"

"–right. Carl, focus. All I’m trying to say is the old stuff’s not going to help us now with our boob wonder. How much energy? We don’t know. There’s only one way to find out. We need to keep going. Add more energy. More power. Pump her for all this equipment’s worth and see what happens."

Jenny stepped up to the control board and cranked the dial up, all the way to the red "11".

A siren blared.

Insufficient power supply, read the screen.

"Shit! Give me the phone." Carl began to type away a few digits. After a few seconds of ringing, someone picked up the receiver.

"Head-on collider power station. Peterson speaking."

"Peterson, listen, this is Carl Sachek, ident code one-nine-five-six. We need the national reserve on the input transformers."

"You need more power? You’re here to shut it down, fool! What the fuck do you want the national reserve for? Does the snake even know about that?"

Carl looked out through the glass pane, eyeing the two oblong, throbbing, ten feet orbs behind which the blonde was out of sight, trapped between her flesh anchors and the suction pipe. At least she had the time of her life. He could hear her delighted moaning and see the quaking flesh. Every now and then, a hand appeared, slapping down on the elastic balloons, sending ripples over the round masses.

"Uh, yes. Yes, she does. Absolutely. She ordered it. We had a, uhm, a sudden breakthrough, uh, of," he held his temples and rolled his eyes, "of, uhm, tit-anic proportions."

Jenny glanced out the window, then put her hand over her mouth and stifled a giggle. Carl gesticulated for her to keep quiet.

Peterson obviously wasn’t convinced. "Uh-huh. I need to talk to her about that."

Carl rose from his chair. "No prob. Hold on, she’s right in the next room."

He raced down the stairs and maneuvered his way around Caryn’s orbs to her still quite normal body. If you weren’t looking too hard at her chest and the pole up her skirt, you could have easily ignored the two elephants in the room.

"It’s Peterson. Needs your confirmation," he panted and gave her the mobile. She sighed when she had to abandon stroking one of her breasts to grab the phone.

"Doooooohhhbbs here. What’s the problem?" she breathed into the phone, her lips pursing as if she was about to make love to the shiny piece of elongated plastic. Then, after a short pause, a throaty "Yeeeeees. Mmmhhh-hmmm. Do it." Pause. She half closed her eyes as another minor orgasm raced through her body. Her hand on the mobile trembled. "Of – of course I’m fine. Oh gods, you’ve got no idea just how fine I am."

Another short pause. She jerked suddenly, and her breast balloons shook along. Her eyes narrowed.

"Don’t you dare," Caryn hissed into the receiver, her voice suddenly filled with ice. "Peterson, you add the reserve within the next five minutes, or you can go and patch up wall sockets for the rest of your then miserable non-existing career. And don’t cheap out, d’ ya hear? Full national reserve, Dobbs, on my authorization, six-five-echo-delta. Hop to it, man. There’s research waiting to be done here!" She flipped the mobile shut and threw it back to Carl.

"Huh? How was that?" she giggled, then her eyes went wide again, and her voice turned to a shallow whisper as she breathed, "another one! It doesn’t stop! Oh gods, do me! Do me! Pump me! This is – you’ve got no idea – no idea! More!"

"He’ll need a few minutes before the reserve is available."

Her hand grabbed his shirt, ripping off a few buttons. "I can’t wait! Just pump me with all you’ve got ready now! I want to grow! OOooaahhh pleeeeaaase!"

Jenny’s voice came over the speaker system.

"Carl, I’ve listened in. I can easily give her the regular level one more time, without the reserve. You better get out of there. We don’t know how huge this will bloat her."

Caryn grinned. "Huge. Huuuuuge. Bloooaaaat. What beauuuuuhhhtifuuuoooahh–beautiful words," she whispered. "Yes, little girl. Go on, go ahead. Make me huge. Bloat me. Blow all your power into me. I’m your balloon. Make me round and taut. Make me fat. Blow me up and make me fly."

Mesmerized by the sultry voice, with half-closed eyes, her left hand digging into her dripping crotch, Jenny slowly increased the push of her right hand on the red button. Only when it snapped down did she jerk awake and swiveled to the microphone on the table, screaming in panic: "Carl! Carl, get the fuck out of there! I’ve fired already! Sorry! I lost it there for a moment – ruuuun!"

He came up the last few stairs as the Eeeeeeoooouuuurrmmm of the pulse approached through the tunnel, and closed the heavy steel door from inside the control room when the deep rumble of growth started. Caryn’s high-pitched shriek of pain, filtering through the solid walls of the control room, made his hair stand up on end.

The scream was cut short. From the thick glass window in his back came the whump of something heavy and soft slamming against it, followed by hissing and trickling noises.

He saw Jenny, her eyes wide open, staring right past him at the window. Backing away, she slowly raised her hand and pointed over his shoulder. Her mouth fell open, and she shook her head in mute disbelief.

Expecting the worst, he turned around.

Slammed against the glass, squeezed back into a man-sized, wrinkled areola with bumps like oranges, was a rough nipple the size of Jenny’s torso. Streams of milk, glowing greenish in the dark with whatever weird energy was at work here, burst from dozens of finger-sized holes and wormed down the outside of the pane. And now Caryn’s delighted moans came loud and distorted over the rattling speaker of the intercom.

Several minutes later, her words finally resembled something coherent and semi-rational again. "I’m – I’m okay. It was just – the sucking pipe came out, and that hurt like hell. I’m not injured. Uh, I – I might’ve grown a bit this time, too, not just my boobs. Just a coupla inches, but my clothes are kinda ripped and torn now…" She paused, then she hollered, "but don’t you dare and stop now! Don’t you dare! There’s still more than enough room in here!"

Carl checked the cameras. She was right, in a way. Even though one of her breasts had jumped over the platform’s rails and was squeezing against the control room, the collider chamber was easily able to accommodate breasts ten times her current size.

Along the walls, dormant electrical cabinets came to life. The room lit up with hundreds of tiny green lamps. Hands moved to the upper end of their scales. The faint smell of smoldering dust and fresh plastic filled the air.

National reserve online, said the main screen.

Two minutes of patching and configuring later, Jenny’s hand hovered over the injector trigger button again. She looked at Carl, and then at the single, barrel-sized nipple, still throbbing and dripping with glowing milk, pressed up against the glass. Her hand reached for the microphone.

"Caryn, uh, do you really want to go through with this? This cave might not be big enough to hold you, and we don’t know when – or even if this reverses the way Bigg predicted."

She moaned a Yes. She’d have moaned a Yes to just about anything Jenny could’ve asked.

Jenny sighed and turned to her husband. "Carl?"

He nodded and then, grinning madly, raised his fist. "For Science!"

Jenny chuckled. "Yes! For Science!"

Caryn’s breathless, lust-drenched voice filtered through the thick glass. "No. Not for science." She took a deep breath, and hollered: "For tits and ass! Fire in the hole!"

Click.

Nothing happened. Jenny stared at her hand on the button, then at the window. The machine still stood in waiting, humming with pent-up energy.

"What the hell?" Carl frantically hacked away at the keyboard, and pointed at the screen. "There! The pipe isn’t sealed anymore. The safeties have blocked the trigger."

"Come on! What are you waiting for?" Caryn complained from outside.

"The pipe’s leaking. We’re on it!"

Caryn gazed over her shoulder at the whistling tube.

"No! You stay up there! This is mine! All mine!"

Pulling at her heavy balloons, dragging them over the floor, she inched backwards, moving her ass closer. Her new six foot frame easily allowed her to step over the pipe now. She looked down, her hands forcing her cleavage apart just wide enough to see the hissing metal appear between her spread legs. She bent her knees. The warm metal touched the length of her crotch.

Just a few inches forward.

The air streaming into the tube sent a chill over her wet labia. She took a deep breath and squatted down on the metal. Thick and solid, it pressed against the moist opening.

Mmmmhhh. And back again.

The sound turned into a rhythmic, relentless Slortch–slortch–slortch–

Ahhhhhh.

Her face lit up with delight. And while the pipe sucked away inside her slick, aroused vagina, she exhaled, drew another deep breath and hollered:

"Ready!"

Carl’s eyes crisscrossed over the terminal. The sealing worked, after a fashion, but he didn’t like what he saw.

"Jenny, oh gods, fire as soon as the vacuum limit goes green. We won’t get another chance. The pumps are beginning to break down. She’s not squirting, she’s gushing, and it’s all getting sucked into the pipe. She just doesn’t stop!"

She furrowed her brows and put her chin forward. "Gotcha. Just say when." Her gaze wandered from the throbbing, spewing barrel of the nipple behind the glass to the black and white screen showing Caryn with gaping mouth and half-closed eyes.

You want it? You want it all? For a fleeting instant, Jenny imagined the network of power lines all over the country, a spiderweb of energy, all of it culminating in one place, in one point, in this one rod under her control. The machine was hers; she knew every switch, every magnet, every inch of it as well as her own body. In a way, she stuck in Caryn; she had mounted the quivering, moaning, shivering, waiting blonde.

Her hand on the button trembled in anticipation.

Carl stared at the screen, at the bars that crawled higher and higher. “Okay, hold it, hold it, almost there, almost, almost – Fire!"

I’ll pump you to another world now, you bitch, arced through Jenny’s head. Her hand slammed down on the trigger.

Ka-chunk. Eeeeeoooouuuuurrrrrmmmmm.

"Haaaahhhhh," groaned Caryn. Squeaking and rubbing, the nipple on the glass slowly wandered upward, pushed on by the swelling flesh. With a tink, a crack appeared in the window, and as the rumbling of Caryn’s growth grew louder and louder with no sign of stopping, the little white line zigzagged across the glass pane. It forked and slowly covered more and more of the thick material with its spider web.

"Carl, we need to get out of here–Carl?!" Jenny’s head turned to the empty chair. Her husband laid curled-up on the floor, clutching his crotch with both hands. Cold sweat covered his forehead. He groaned, "got… me! Balls… squeezing… too tight… the pain!" Jenny saw the salami-sized contour that wormed down his jeans along his right thigh. The stitches of the trousers’ seams widened and were on the verge of giving in.

She jumped over to him and knelt down, involuntarily. Her coat had grown tight – tight and heavy. Jenny barely managed to grab the edge of the control panel before her swelling breasts dragged her to the floor. She panted in rising panic, but each breath just tightened the cloth more around her chest. "Also… growing," she moaned, "it’s coming… through the shielding. We must… get… out."

Crawling on hands and knees, they struggled for the door.

Jenny’s growth was faster than her. She had barely gained a few feet on the door when her hands no longer reached the floor. She bobbed on her breasts that had shaken the constraints of the coat. Buttons laid strewn across the tiles, and she helplessly strained for a grip.

"Carl! Carl, roll me! Push me before I’m too big for the door!" she yelped.

No reply. She swiveled around on her boobs and gasped. He couldn’t move on, either. His right leg was straightened by his manhood that reached beyond his knee now. The cotton of his jeans creaked and groaned, still putting up a valiant fight against the swelling and throbbing pipe. The crotch of his jeans had lost the fight already. From the tattered remains of his underwear hung balls the size of cantaloupes. Pumping, finger-thick veins wrapped around them, and the delicate skin of his scrotum was stretched paper-thin. Carl just rested on his back, his arms widespread, fingers clawing against the floor.

And still the three of them kept on growing while the lamps on the power boards flickered and died one by one. Finally, the only light left in the room was the eerie glow from Caryn’s weird milk that ran in streams down the cracked glass.

The elevator doors hissed open. A faint band of light shone into the control room, and it moved as a shadow stepped from the lift.

"My, what do we have here?", said an unfamiliar voice, with altogether too much schadenfreude in it.

The voice’s owner approached with the tok-tok-tok of high heels and the rhythmic creaking of leather. Jenny strained to turn around again, but her breasts had grown far too heavy to even let her budge, and still they swelled on. A hand slapped on her buttocks, and she yelped loudly.

"Hey! What do you think you’re doing?" she complained, hissing.

The stranger circled her and stepped in front of her. With her weight tying her to the floor, Jenny was unable to lift her head high enough to look at the visitor. She only saw two strong legs wrapped in skin-tight black material. Up close, it was plain as day that it wasn’t leather. The dull, non-reflective surface seemed more like neoprene. Faint hints of violet or blue glowing veins streaked over it.

"I’m doing what needs to do be done," said the apparition and knelt down. Jenny gasped when she saw the face with the green, glowing eyes. A hand, warm and covered in the same material as the creature’s whole body, quickly closed her mouth and nipped her scream in the bud. A muffled "Mmm–mph!" was all she managed.

"Oh, calm down, I’m no animal. It’s just a mask. I’m here to help you. Isn’t that nice? Take a nap, it’s going to be alright." Tucked in between the handful pair of breasts on the stranger stuck a silvery, triangular badge, right in front of Jenny’s face. O.A.O., she read, and in smaller letters, curved around an embossed #01, Office for Anomalous Occurrences. Then, as gentle fingers slid over her cheek, Jenny’s mind went blank, and she slumped down over her breasts.

As the creature straightened up again, the cat mask with the green glowing eyes melted and retracted into her shoulders. Beneath it appeared the head of a girl, barely twenty, with long dark hair that was gelled back and tucked away into the collar.

She held out her arm, spread her fingers and described a half-circle in a wide, sweeping motion. A wave of violet light crawled over the front wall. The creaking and crackling of the glass window stopped. The girl tapped her ear with a finger.

"Secretary? Amanda here. I’ve been too late. This place must’ve lit up on their scanners like a lighthouse. They will find our planet now. We can’t hide from them. No doubt about that."

"...?"

She looked around. "Yes, the suit’s working fine. Shields holding. – No, no casualties. – Huh? A little growth here, a little growth there. Easily contained. – Dick, tits, the usual. I’ll clean up now. Get a nondescript press release ready. – Helium leak?" She glanced briefly at the wall of boob outside. "Yeah, sounds great. Run with that." Another tap on the ear, and the line went dead. She added, to no one in particular, "and that’s all you need to know for now, Mr. Secretary."

"Hey! Hellooooo! Can you hear me? Why did it stop again? I’m still kinda ready, y’know? We’re not done yet, right?" came Caryn’s begging wail from the chamber. Amanda raised her eyebrows, placed her hand on the console and closed her eyes. The black skin turned into goo and seeped from her fingers into the machine, hooking up with the plant’s network.

Oh? Oh. Uh-huh. You’ve been a naughty girl, Caryn Dobbs. I can see all your dirty little machinations. No, I don’t think we’re done yet, either.

She pushed the button on the microphone. "Just a little delay, Miss Dobbs. You regular servicing will resume shortly. You’ll find the new, improved version to be much more intense."

Caryn’s eyes went wide. "Who – who’s this? Hey! Who are you? Where’s Carl? Jenny? Is that you? Don’t play games with me! What are–"

Amanda switched off the speaker.

"You’ll know soon enough, bitch. I’ve met far too many of your kind. Suit?"

Input?

"Let’s give our friends from afar a much brighter lighthouse to navigate by."

Affirmative. Assimilating machine. Rerouting exodimensional batteries.

While the black slime crawled back over her head, there was a short crackle, then a little smoke rose from the panel and the lights came back on. This time, the scales jumped beyond the green area. Red lights flickered. A tiny siren in the corner began to blare, but Amanda cast a glance in its direction, and the device burst into a rain of plastic shards.

"Nice. You’ve gotten pretty smart recently, suit."

Affirmative. Warning: Subject’s volume may exceed available space.

"Really? Well, seems to me she always liked putting people in tight corners. Let’s see how she likes it when the table’s turned. Get ready to pump her all the way."

The generators along the tunnel didn’t hum any longer. They howled. A sardonic sneer distorted the cat mask over Amanda’s face when she saw the fear in Caryn’s eyes.

"Wondering how much you can take, huh? Me too. Suit, constant fire. Now."

Ka-chunk. Iiiiieeeeeoooouuuurrrrrmmm–rmmm–rmmm–rmmm–

Who is this girl? Who are They? What is the O.A.O.? What’s going to happen next? Stay tuned for another installment of The O.A.O. Files!

Uh, someday-ish. Up next: World of Altaerna, the 1200’s! Witches! Whores! Goddesses! Scheming viziers! Read it first on TOB!

And if you’ve actually read on through here, why not make this aspiring smut writer happy and drop a comment? Come on. You know you want to. Praise or punishment, it’s your (anonymous) call.

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