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[Prologue]

Quinn and Rose decided to do their own version of the venerable Christmas tradition known as A Christmas Carol. After all, every comic book and tri-dee show in existence have their own interpretation of the tale. Blue Steel would be no different.

1

Twenty-four fourteen, the planet Outback. Mavis Johps wasn't having a good day. The traffic was particularly bad this Thursday afternoon. Back-ups and slowdowns were the rule on the M3. Everyone had to be out and about, doing last-minute Christmas shopping. Mavis worked two jobs, one of which earns her the scorn and derision of many people in the city of New Darwin. As President of the Flat Chest Society, Mavis was determined to insure that womens' influence in human events won't be derailed by an infantile fixation on oversized breasts. Nanites, due to their availability and price, were a major bone of contention for the FCS. It seemed that more women worked part-time jobs just for the purpose of purchasing nanite injections.
    Driving to her home in a fashionable section of Canberra (a satellite city of New Darwin), Mavis eyed the women along the sidewalks. The average cup size on Outback was D, and over 75% of that figure was due to nanites. Had that figure been based on natural breast size, Mavis wouldn't have a problem. However, after seeing the various women on the street, it's clear to her that those women had more money than sense. For every tabletop-flat woman there's one with a basketball-bust. What a waste, Mavis thought, all those women adding flesh to their fronts for the sole purpose of making them more attractive. All the money that went into the hands of doctors and tailors could've gone into savings and education. Utter waste.
    Mavis pulled into her garage. Her house, a two-story affair with Victorian influences, had few pieces of furniture. Only one of the four bedrooms was in use. Her husband, Lance, was already home, fixing a quick dinner for Mavis. Lance wiped his hands and gave his wife a quick kiss. �Hi, honey. How's been your day?�
    �Slow. Everyone is getting ready for the Holidays.� Mavis removed her overcoat and shoes, sitting at the kitchen table. �The Kepler Case is set for January 5.�
    Lance frowned. �Oh, does that mean you're really gonna stay home tonight and work?�
    �Regrettably yes, dear.� Mavis scarfed down several bites of food. She then took a long swig of lollywater. �Paulette and John will understand.�
    �They always do,� Lance lamented. �I'll remember to bring home a doggy bag.� The now-dejected man went upstairs. Like his wife, Lance was a lawyer. The difference was that Lance handled small-claims cases, while Mavis settled on cases directly related to her cause. The Kepler Case concerned a damage suit against an eccentric billionaire named Lewis Kepler. On one of his private cruises Kepler had several dozen women injected with misprogramed nanites, causing them to get bigger breasts than they wanted. Normally, this wouldn't be a problem, since the nanites could've been gamma-zapped. But these women were on an extended cruise on Kepler's private leisure ship, a ship that could handle any medical emergency except out-of-control breasts. Instead of the modest three-to-six additional cups sizes they wanted, the women ended with a bust/height ratio of 2.65 - pillow woman size. This was during a five-month trip, and when the women came back they were fit to eat nails. Mavis was determined to squeeze every last credit out of Kepler's lecherous hide.
    After staying upstairs for a few minutes Lance returned. �I'll be back by 10 p.m., Mavis. Can you at least start the first load of laundry?�
    �I'll do that, honey. Take care; the M3 Bypass is still backed up to Leods.�
    Lance just grunted in reply, heading out the door. Mavis sighed. She knew that the party tonight meant a lot to Lance, but the Kepler Case promised to be the Ring of Gold that she's been seeking all her life. With the ungodly amount of money in the offering, Mavis vowed to get the most for her clients - and for herself too!
    After an intensive hour of research and writing Mavis decided to take a breather. Opening up a bottle of bubbly, Mavis half-filled her glass and sat on the couch, legs under her. Unintentionally, she nodded off to sleep.

A loud, persistent wail rouse Mavis from her nap. She was startled by the sight of a specter that looked like her dead grandmother. �Whoa, must've been a bad glass of bubbly,� said Mavis, ��cause I'm seeing things.�
    �You're not seeing things, dear. I'm your late grandmother Jenny,� the pale specter announced. �I'm here to help you.�
    Mavis rubbed her eyes and checked her ears. �Now I'm having auditory hallucinations. Reminds me of a certain insanity-plea case.� The specter pinched Mavis' cheek. �Ouch! Well, I must truly be insane. I could've sworn something pinched me.�
    �Mavis! I'm not a bad case of gas! You can be so thickheaded at times,� announced Jenny. �I'm here on behalf of your immortal soul. The path you've chosen will lead to your eternal sorrow and embitterment.�
    �I guess I'll entertain the possibility that you're my dead grandmother. You talk like her, at least.� Mavis settled her eyes on the specter, noting that the pale form was an exact match of her grandma, right down to the oversized (34T) breasts. In Grandma's case they were all-and-all natural. �Just what is so wrong about my chosen path, oh figment of my imagination?�
    The specter wailed, making Mavis cover her ears and creep with fear. �You're trying to destroy a basic human feature, the breast, turning it into an object of scorn and belittlement. You have let your resentment take over your brain and purpose. There's still time for you to enjoy life and its bounty.�
    Mavis regained a measure of courage, eyeing the specter purposely. �Perhaps you truly are my grandmother; not only do you talk like her, but you're the gasbag she use to be.�
    Another wail assailed Mavis' ears. �Impudent girl! Tonight, you'll receive three spirits. One each for the past, present, and future. You will see for yourself the events of your life and those of others. Learn and grow. That's all I ask of you, Mavis.�
    �Begone, you gasbag!� Mavis implored the specter. �I'll have none of your tripe!�
    The specter disappeared in a flash, leaving Mavis confident that it was just her imagination. �Three spirits, eh? Well, I for one will not suffer from an Nth interpretation of A Christmas Carol. I got work to do.� With that Mavis got up and went back to the kitchen.
 

2

Ten minutes after resuming work Mavis knew she wasn't alone in the house. Looking up, Mavis was startled when she saw a woman standing before her. Clad in a shimmering white gown, the woman also wore a kuno flower wreath on her head and a belt of gold around her waist. But Mavis knew this woman. �Belinda Buxley, the tri-dee anchorwoman? What are you doing here?�
    The woman smiled, her professionally-maintained teeth sparkling in the light. �Mavis, though I may look like Buxley, I'm actually a part of yourself that you discarded long ago. My purpose is to show your early life and the tragic decision you made.�
    �Tragic decision? Hogwash!� Mavis actively considered not to drink anymore caffeinated sodas after three p.m., as they tend to give her headaches. This Buxley person might be an illusion caused by a super-migraine! �You're some undigested food that's poking my innards. Go away.�
    �I'm not so easily dismissed. Come.� Buxley reached out and held Mavis' elbow. Both women disappeared in a flash of light.
    A moment's pause later Mavis opened her eyes. �Where are we? I don't recognize this place.�
    Buxley shook her head scornfully. �Forgotten already? This is 2384, 30 years ago.�
    The scene was that of a family room, filled with people intent on making merry. A Christmas tree, decorated and straddled with presents, held pride of place in the center of the room. �Yes,� Mavis said knowingly, �this was during my senior year in high school. There's Grandma Jenny.� The mentioned woman sat in a rocking chair, giving the attention only a grandparent could give to a brand-new grandchild, the little tot happy and active. �And there's me and Edward.� The younger version of Mavis shared an ice-cream soda with her best friend, Edward.
    �A happy occasion, yes,� Buxley intoned, �but do you recall the event that left an ugly mark on your soul?�
    �You didn't have to remind me.� Mavis sneered as a door opened. In stepped Kathy Perchet, her friend from high school. Instinctively, Mavis rushed Kathy, snarling her hate. It came as an utter surprise to Mavis when her hand went through Kathy. �What Hey? Is this an illusion?�
    �No, Mavis. You and I are only here in spirit. No one else can see or hear us. Now, what was it about this night that so enraged you?�
    �Those!� The immaterial hand of Mavis pierced the front of Kathy's tested blouse. Kathy was Mavis' best friend, though the former was a year older. While Mavis was in her senior year in high school, Kathy attended university on New Sardinia. Returning to Outback for Christmas Break, Kathy had a big surprize for her family and friends. A 206cm bust graced Kathy's 165cm frame, all thanks to nanites that the mischievous girl had herself injected with the first week of the fall semester. Her parents expected their girl to gain the �freshmen 5', adding some needed centimeters to her thighs and hips. It was painfully clear where those five kilos went. After some embarrassing stares and gawking the party continued... but for one person the party was over.
    �You didn't expect that, didn't you?� Buxley chided. �Kathy ever so had a tiny bit of jealousy about your bust, ever since you gained your natural charms at the age of 14.�
    Mavis looked steamed. �That's right. Natural! Natural with a capital N.� The incensed woman looked at the younger version of herself. Her parents considered their little girl to be blessed with her all-natural mammaries. A 158cm frame fixed with a 115cm bust (a 32M bra), Mavis had been a really healthy girl. But now, in comparison with Kathy, poor old Mavis looked undernourished. �I had to put up with immature giggles and bra-strap pulling for four years. Kathy was only a 34D; she had it easy.�
    �Easy?� Buxley looked bemused. �Tell me more.�
    �I was the �chest-girl' in my school. My nickname was Nora Nanite, �cause everyone assumed I had a nanite injection. Girls being girls, some were downright mean and snotty towards me, while others were insanely jealous. My bras were often stolen from my gym locker and run up the flag pole. Other girls were hypocrites. During the summer break they worked part-time jobs, all for the purpose of earning money for an injection of breast-enlarging nanites. Some girls ended up bigger than me, and then they teased me for being too small! Those jerks!�
    �It was those things that made you the pathetic woman you are now, isn't it?�
    �I may be several things, but not pathetic,� Mavis ripped out. �Here, look at this!� Before the irate woman stood her younger self, coming to grips with the fact that her best friend was a mammary goddess made flesh. Edward was dumbstruck, his attempts at conversation both juvenile and crude. Kathy giggled, her blouse fighting the good fight against the gyrating flesh. Then it happened. Two buttons lost in their valiant struggle, popping off with liberated energy. The ten centimeters of  displayed cleavage was enough. Edward lusted after Kathy, Edward wanted Kathy. Kathy wanted Edward. Mavis lost Edward.
    Lips twisted with venom, Mavis faced Buxley. �That witch Kathy stole my Edward. She seduced him with her nanite-built chest.�
    �Mavis,� said Buxley, �do not blame Kathy. Had you wanted, you could've kept Edward for yourself. You didn't even try.�
    �Try? I did try, dammit! That Edward did have a thing for bosoms, but after he practically undressed Kathy with his eyes I didn't want any part of him. Good riddance.�
    �So, when you attended university the next year, you purchased a nanite injection, reducing your natural beauty from 32M to 32B. Mavis, a B-cup is no cup at all! You tried to make yourself as unattractive as possible, but it failed, didn't it?� Buxley winked, making Mavis loose much of her steam.
    �You had to say that, you figment. Lance was a fellow law student, and somehow he kept finding excuses to be around me.� Mavis blushed, recalling memories about herself and Lance working on assignments in the Library and at the Courthouse. �Our marriage is more of a working convenience, I'm afraid.�
    �Convenience? Convenience?! Lance didn't marry you for convenience, and neither did you! The smoldering embers of passion and love only need a strong breath to become the raging conflagrations they once were. Come! It's time to take you back. The second spirit is awaiting.�
    �Good. I need to relieve my bladder. Perhaps then this fever dream will end.�
 

3

Mavis awoke at the kitchen table. She didn't recall how she returned, and didn't care. Her bladder needed to be drained. �The food,� she slurred. �Must've been the food and bubbly. I'll just freshen up in the bathroom.� In a shuffling gate Mavis reached the first floor bathroom. Opening the door, the woman's senses were assailed by a storm of light and a crash of noise. Mavis closed the door, then opened it again to remove all doubt. The light and sound were still present, and it was clear that the bathroom wasn't there anymore. In its place was a dining hall, the master table lined with dishes and drinks of all kinds. The sight of wonderful foods such as roasted jackalope ribs and green grazer hind made Mavis hungry. As she made for the food a rousing bout of laughter startled her. Searching, Mavis found the source. A man dressed in rich red robe floated in the air. He held a drumstick and a beer mug in his hands. �No, it couldn't be... it is! Mr Big!�
    The floating man laughed, coughed, and hacked. �Fair lady, I may have the essence of that rambunctious man, but I only have good intentions in my heart. For your convenience you may call me Big. I'll show you some people you know and the merriment and joy they're experiencing tonight. Come, give me you hand!�
    �No Way!� Mavis crossed her arms. �I need to relieve myself. Give back my bathroom.�
    �Not until my task is finished!� Big floated down and grabbed Mavis' arm. Both people disappeared, only to reappear in ethereal form, floating above a dinner scene. The table was ready, only waiting for people to come and sit.
    �Ah! A fabulous feast complete with roast beast!� The little man said. �I do believe you recognize those fair ladies, yes?�
    Mavis' nostrils flared when she spied Lynnae Wilcox and June Parlor. Though dressed in civilian clothes, the buxom duo lived up to their name. The blouses were proper, but proud breasts were testing the tenacious hold of the buttons. June's blouse had a much tougher fight than Lyn's. Mavis' mind whirled like a firestorm. It's bad enough that popular culture on Outback glorifies breasts, but when an official establishment condones the obscene frontage of those two... well, it'll make a proper woman fit to bust a vein! �I hate them,� Mavis spat out. �Those two are prime examples of what's wrong with today's society. Decency and modesty have gone down as women's chests got bigger. And those tiny skirts and close-fitting shirts they wear during the summer! Shameful.�
    �Shameful?� said Big, �not at all. They've proven that even generously-endowed women can contribute positively to society. They've enabled women to be proud about their chests, natural or nanite-built. Woe be the criminal that can't keep his hands to himself!� The funny little man laughed. �The approval rating of the Police is at its highest in decades. The belles of the New Darwin Police have the safety of the people at heart.�
    �If they don't die of asphyxiation first,� said Mavis. �It seems those two are always losing shirts or skirts when they apprehend a badguy. Some delinquents, like the gang Civil Disturbance 101, go out of their way to commit petty crimes, all on the hopes of being arrested by the Buxom Duo or other similarly-endowed officers.� Mavis' attention was grabbed by the sight of another woman approaching the dinner table. �Hey, that's Alice Vitras! She's just as bad as Wilcox and Parlor.�
    Alice was seated by her fiancé Ward. The big man happily accepted a peck on the cheek from his woman. Due to her watermelon bust, Alice had to use an oversized napkin. Cranberry stains are so hard to get out of nubal-wool sweaters.
    Big looked bemused, speaking after downing a huge cup of wine. �That sweet girl? Tell me more.�
    �That �sweet girl' started a sorority where the only requirement for membership is a DD bust measurement. Rebellious young women who flaunt the standards of decency and good tastes find the �Double Delta' the perfect home for them. And their fundraisers! Wet-T contests, mud wrestling, kissing booths - all of those emphasizing the expansiveness of their breasts! Alice, with her own considerable frontage, is a symbol for all girls that want to get big lungs just so they can give their parents heart attacks!�
    Big pouted. �You're rather harsh on little old Alice and her girls. Yes, they do raise money with the help of their considerable assets. Do you know where that money goes, hmmmm?�
    Mavis kept a tight lip. �Oh, come now, Ms President of the FCS. A good portion of the money goes to the Children's Hospital for the care of critically-ill patients. The rest goes to the treatment of emotionally-distraught women. Women made that way by your organization and the Flat Fronts.�
    �How dare you accuse me!� Mavis tried to slap Big, but she missed, her ethereal body ending up in the mashed potato bowl. �Those women allowed peer and societal pressures to affect their judgement. My organization is seeking to rectify that.�
    �Hogwash!� Big floated down, his ghostly head coming to rest on a plate of cooked ham. �You're trying to impose your moral standards on a society that already knows what it likes. The endowed women of this world make the most of life, and their men both appreciate and enjoy what those women go through each and every day. Now, let's leave this happy dinner and see what your husband is up to.�
    �Now wait just a sec...� Mavis was cut-off in mid-sentence. She was transported to a fresh scene of merriment in an eyeblink. �...ond. Hey, what's all this then?�
    �It's the party you didn't go to, my dear,� Big proclaimed. �Here, let's listen in on what your hubby is saying.� Guiding Mavis by the arm, Big planted his charge in front of Lance. He's talking to some friends.
    �Lance,� said a work associate, �what's with Mavis? Couldn't she make the time to attend this party?�
    �I'm afraid not. She's working on that Kepler case.� Lance played with his collar. �Sometimes I wish she could spend as much time with me as she does with all that FCS stuff.�
    �She's certainly a fuddy-duddy,� chimed another friend, a female. �What will she do next? Picket The Tea Cup and Cotton Tail?�
    Lance actually grinned. �Oh, that'll never work, considering that those places are patronized by several lawmakers and media stars. The girls that work there can bust through any picket line!� Lance and his friends had a laugh, making the ethereal Mavis fume.
    Big grinned. �Lance still loves you, and he yearns to have you in his arms more often. He wants the sweet and endearing woman he married to come back.�
    �I have my work,� Mavis countered. �The FCS has accomplished much in the last five years all because of me.�
    �Yes, about that,� said Big. �It's time to take you back. The spirit of the future will show you the potential consequences of your actions.� Before Mavis could talk, both she and Big disappeared in a flash of light.
 

4

Mavis found herself back in the bathroom. Satisfied that she was alone, Mavis relieved her bladder and freshened up her face and hair for good measure. �A bad dream,� she told herself, �brought on by overwork and tension. I think I shall turn in for the night. The laundry can wait.� The woman proceeded upstairs. Opening the door to her bedroom, Mavis found the spirit of the future waiting for her. Adorned in a black robe, the spirit had the spitting image of Mr Ophlant, Mavis' law professor during her junior year in law school. �Ack! Mr Ophlant, what are you doing here?�
    �First off, Mrs Johps, I only look like Ophlant,� said the spirit with a voice fit to crush rocks. �Many students considered that man a merciless taskmaster. He drove them hard to make them learn and think. I have chosen his visage and name so as to facilitate my message.�
    Mavis looked quizzically at the spirit. �So, are you going to give me the �scare straight' sounds and lights? You might as well make this a full night. Go ahead, give me your best shot.�
    The spirit snorted. �Now I know why Ophlant considered you his best student. You cut to the chase. Here...� the spirit raised a hand. In an eyeblink the bedroom changed into another room, a courtroom.
    �What's all this then? This is the courtroom where I worked as a legal aid.� Mavis looked around, her spirit body passing through people and furniture without hindrance.
    �It's 100 years into your future, Mavis. What you're seeing here is the fruit of your labor as the FCS president. Listen.� Mavis complied, facing the court and taking note of the activity going on.
    The prosecutor, most likely an assistant DA, was questioning a witness, a young woman with what had to be D-cups. �So, Wendy Thomas, I put it to you. Why did you have the doctor modify some of your bone-strengthening nanites to enlarge your breasts? Why did you break the law when you had a perfectly suitable 94cm bust?�
    �I wanted to improve my looks,� said Wendy firmly.
    �Looks,� said the prosecutor scornfully. �Looks, looks, looks. In the names of looks, you misguided girl, millions of women have mutilated...�
    �Objection!� the defense lawyer proclaimed.
    �Sustained,� said the judge.
    The prosecutor halted only momentarily. �In the name of looks, millions of women have wasted time and money, not to mention self-esteem, on artificial enhancements of beauty.�
    �It's not a waste,� asserted Wendy. �Adding three centimeters to my front only complements the rest of my frame, not detracting from it.�
    �But those oversized breasts of yours are distracting, Ms Thomas. Men will only see you as a pair of breasts, a sexual object to be played with...�
    The defense lawyer stood up. �Objection!�
    �Sustained,� the judge ordered.
    Mavis looked confused, turning to the spirit for an answer. �She's in court because she enlarged her breasts? For only a mere three centimeters of additional size?�
    Ophlant nodded. �Yes. In this time there are no breast-enlarging nanites for sale. It's a crime to enlarge breasts, the only exception is that of reconstructive surgery. The few women that are naturally busty are relentlessly teased and tormented. Only on Angelica are nanites still in use. The planet has become a refuge for those women who want to live the big-bosomed lifestyle.�
    �I find that hard to believe.� Mavis looked at Wendy. �What's going to happen to her?�
    �She broke the law,� Ophlant said cooly. �The doctor has already been dismissed and had his license revoked. Wendy is facing the possibility of two years in jail for �frivolous breast expansion' or having reduction nanites injected. If the latter, she'll be reduced to a B-cup.�
    �No! My work isn't the cause of this. It can't be!�
    �It is, Mavis.� Ophlant raised his hand again. The scene shifted to that of a cemetery.
    �What's the meaning of this?�
    Ophlant pointed to a large tombstone. �Your own husband had that tombstone made, even though you and he had been divorced for over thirty years.�
    �Divorced?� Mavis laughed. �That's a bad joke. I might as well read this tombstone. Lance has a way with words.� Hunkered down, Mavis read off the words from what she considered to be a fictitious grave. ��Mavis Kay Johps. 2366-2500. Survived by two sons and two daughters. She died alone, flat-chested, and afraid'.� Mavis stood up angry. �What the hellnation is that all about? �Dying alone and afraid'? What made Lance divorce me?�
    Ophlant spoke with the firmness of a judge passing sentence. �When you and Lance finally got around having children, you decided to mold your daughters to what you wanted them to be. Their bodies reflected the choice you made many years earlier. During your daughters' seven-year medical check, you had the doctors inject them with nanites. Specifically, the nanites prevented your daughters' breasts from growing when puberty came. Lorrie and Pam only had A-cup tops. Lance found out what you did and divorced you. Your daughters disowned you, moving to Angelica and getting huge bosoms in an attempt to rectify your meddling. As for your sons, they too moved away, not wanting to be anywhere near the woman who deprived their sisters of their natural potential.�
    �Lies! All of it!� Mavis tried to kick over the tombstone, but her ethereal foot just past through it. �You're saying my obsession in seeing nanites banned has lead to all of this?�
    �It can still be that way,� Ophlant said, �but you can change. The choice is still yours to make. Do you want to be remembered by history as the woman who destroyed the breast? Or do you want to be a happy and loving woman for your family?�
    The cold wind in the cemetery carried the sounds of moans and wails. Mavis saw the spectral forms of women walking towards her. �Who are they?� she asked worriedly.
    �Those are the spirits of the women your actions have repressed,� Ophlant said. �Their potential for womanhood has been cut short by this society's view on breasts. These spirits died knowing that they had no control on the shape of their bodies. They curse your name and soul each moment of their existence, both in life and death.�
    Now frighten, Mavis ran to Ophlant, seeking his protection. �This is wrong! How can I change the future?� Mavis grabbed the spirit's robe, shaking him. �What must I do? Tell me!�
    Ophlant stared down at Mavis, eyes cold and grey. �You must prevent the FCS from becoming a major force in society. How you do that is up to you.�
    �I promise to do that! Give me a chance! Please!� The female spirits grasped and grouped Mavis' body, wanting to rend her into tiny bits. She screamed when her minuscule breasts were cupped and squeezed hard. The light changed to darkness...
 

5

Mavis stopped screaming. In her arms she held a pillow tight to her chest. Mavis pushed the pillow away when she realized it wasn't trying to kill her. With relief, she sat up straight in bed. Looking around, Mavis satisfied herself that she's truly home. The wall chrono read 9:45. Lance will be home in 15 minutes.
    Mavis went to the bathroom, looking at her face in the mirror. Breathing slowly, she thought about the events of the evening. It wasn't a fever dream, she thought, not after what I've seen and felt. I've denied a true part of myself for far too long. Was this my subconscious telling me to wake up and smell the eggos? If it is, then it did a great job! Smiling, Mavis freshened herself up, stripping down to her panties and washing her face in the sink. Next, she went to the master bedroom closet, drawing out her husband's bathrobe. Boy, will he ever be in for a surprize!
    Lance was surprized, all right. Coming upstairs, the weary man saw his wife wearing his favorite robe. �What's all this then? I come home from a party, explaining to virtually everyone there why you weren't with me. To top it off you...� Lance was stopped short by a impromptu kiss on the lips. Mavis hugged her man warmly, only withdrawing far enough to allow him to breath. �Hey, what brought all this on? Not that I don't mind, that is.�
    �You big silly,� teased Mavis. �I've finally realized that I've neglected you for far too long.� Stepping back, Mavis allowed the robe to pool around her feet. Arms akimbo, Mavis made her face look cloy and pouting. �No what's wrong with this picture?�
    �Other than the fact that you're almost nekked?�
    �That's it! But you're going to rectify that problem, Mister!� Mavis reached out and started to undo Lance's shirt and tie.
    �How are we going to do that?� Lance was quick on the uptake, removing his shirt and the rest of his clothes.
    �We're going on that bed and stay there all night. Afterwards, I have a great secret to tell you.� Maneuvering Lance to the bed, Mavis then removed her panty. With joyful abandon, the little woman pushed her man down onto the mattress and then fell on top of him. The laundry had to wait until tomorrow morning.

Twenty-four sixteen, New Year's Day. In her secluded mountain home on New Sardinia, Mavis watched a news program. After the usual holiday fare, the anchorwoman read the final story. �Today is the first anniversary of the disappearance of Mavis Johps, President of the Flat Chest Society on Outback. Mavis, along with her husband Lance, disappeared under mysterious circumstances on January 1st last year, taking with them the bulk of the FCS accounts, a total of 12 million credits. Police still have no leads on the whereabouts of the Johps. The FCS has been effectively crippled by the loss of their accounts, and many people have left the organization in disgust, believing the Johps to be nothing more than opportunistic swindlers...�
    �Opportunistic?� questioned Mavis. �I agree with that. But swindlers?� Sitting upright, Mavis coddled her month-old son Kyle closer to her bosom. �I only took what we needed. And we needed a lot. Right, honey-bunny?�
    Kyle cooed, fidgeting in Mavis' arms. �What is it now? Hungry again? I suppose I don't blame you. The two babies I know can't get enough of the new me.� Sighing, Mavis undid the buttons of her blouse, fully exposing her beachball breasts. Next, she gingerly held Kyle and applied him to her left nipple. Thanks to nanites, the red nips remained small enough for Kyle to suckle from. Smiling warmly, Mavis recalled the events of the previous year.
    Lance and Mavis had a long talk after their bedroom bingo that December night. Mavis explained her feelings to Lance, explained that for all these years she denied a basic part of herself. Relieved that his woman finally came out of her self-imposed shell, Lance asked what Mavis wanted to do with her life. She had a basic, but drastic, idea. The FCS officially repudiates the actions of its militant wing, the Flat Fronts (FF). Unofficially, Mavis had close contacts in the FFs. Cashing in favors, Mavis and Lance got new identities for themselves. After some plastic surgery work, the couple left Outback on New Year's Day last year on a private ship. Settling on New Sardinia, the Johps bought a house in the Winter Mountains. With millions in �acquired' FCS money, the Johps looked forward to decades of living the easy life.
    The only thing Mavis did that could be construed as excessive was getting an injection of nanites. Feeling that she should make up for lost time, Mavis endowed herself with beachball breasts. She proudly wore a wonderful 239cm bust on her 158cm frame. Lance agreed, and, now sufficiently motivated, he and Mavis made a child.
    A noise made Mavis look up. Her husband entered the living room. �Hey,� said Lance warmly, �you didn't tell me lunch was served. Want me to get the collector and save some of that?� He pointed to Mavis' right breast. Milk dribbled from the proud nipple.
    �Ah, heck,� Mavis said. �It's too late for that. You might as well take some for yourself.�
    Lance got down in front of Mavis, licking his lips. �Well, that's the only problem of having oversized breasts I can think of. You're producing more milk than Kyle will ever need. But not more than I can consume.�
    �You!� Mavis cooed. �Get drinking before the carpet gets all wet with milk.�
    �Not necessary to tell me twice!� Happily, Lance proceeded to suckle. An incredibly warm feeling overcame Mavis, knowing that she's able to feed the two most important people in her life with her milk. Mavis held Kyle a bit closer as Lance made his own advance into the flesh before him.
    �Ouch!� exclaimed Mavis. �You'll such me dry in no-time!�
    Lance looked up, milk dripping out the sides of his mouth. �Sorry, honey.�
    Mavis sighed. �Not you. It's Kyle. He's sucking like there's no tomorrow. Once you're done, dear, go get the dinner ready. My boobies need to be restocked after being drain by you two.�
    �Want me to bake a cake? After all, we do have the milk.�
    �Lance...� said Mavis in playful exasperation.
 
 

END

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