Mail Bomb by Mark T (tales@netgate.net) Shelley laughed. No, she thought wildly, it was more of a cackle, really. Quite authentic. She tapped her fingers together for a moment, then typed the last few digits into the middle of the paragraph. She felt the tension in the room increase as her spell drew taut. But she grinned as she completed the subject line and prepared to hit "send" -- the spell still hadn't gone off, just as she had planned. She'd be famous, she was sure. Well, not personally (that could be unhealthy), but her computer persona "Wize- Ass" was sure to go down in the annals of Internet history for this, the first stealth e-mail spell bombing in history. Shelley wasn't really sure why she was doing this, except to prove that she could do it. It was fun working out the ins and outs of a complex text-only spell that would activate upon a reader's *seeing* the trigger phrase. And the best part, she chuckled softly to herself, was the fact that she had searched long and hard to find the right Atlantean spell that started with the word "Re", the Atlantean goddess of fertility. She guffawed out loud, not able to contain her mirth. A spell which would only be triggered when a person *replied* to her mail bomb! This was fabulous! Nobody would trace her down, and nobody would be affected except those nosy busybodies who liked to whine about net "abuse." It was kind of a shame that the best spell she could find with a trigger phrase which started with "Re" was a breast enlarger, though - Shelley had hoped for something more negative, like increased flatulence. And she was unsure what would happen when a guy triggered it, though she imagined it might be fun to watch. Still, with the mass bombing she was going to do, she might single-handedly increase bra sales in the country by tens of thousands. She smiled wickedly at the thought of the mayhem that was going to ensue once she sent out her anonymous mail bomb. She had long since perfected mail bombing, to the point that it was boring for her. She used a list server to generate mail nearly simultaneously to thousands of people, by setting up the listserver with a randomly-generated list of people culled from the worst of the newsgroups - alt.sex.fetish.* and those pervs in alt.sex.stories. The listserver was on a remote machine she'd cracked last year, running in protected mode and untraceable back to her. It accepted for distribution email only in a very strict format, so it was secure against anyone else using it for bombing. And she had it forward back to her any complaint mail the listserver got - it was the most fun part of the bombing, reading everyone's little whines and tantrums. Little idiots, she thought. She hit "Send" on her mailtool and giggled. She leaned back to await the chaos, and for a breather scanned a few newsgroups. Her mailtool changed icons and flashed once, but she ignored it - she got a few dozen emails every day, usually nothing special. She almost never had responses to her postings, since she always posted anonymously. She dove into a flamewar in alt.2600 for fun, spammed the alt.fan hierarchy with a standard "get a life" flame, started up a cancelbot for anything from the "interramp.net" domain (hey, even a cracker can perform a public service, she smirked), and finally opened her mailtool. The screen popped up and she looked it over, to find the window full of listings, all the same. And all, she saw as her eyes widened in horror, replies to her mail bomb. The mailtool automatically opened one into a window and she looked down at it to find her entire message there, with a notice of non-delivery from some idiotic mail server at some minuscule ISP. A subliminal but almost audible twang reverberated through her as the powerful spell she'd concocted was triggered by her eyes running over the subject lines, all prefaced with the damning "Re". Her eyes ran down the message in the window and then continued downward to her chest, where her bra was feeling very tight. She struggled out of her chair, and saw out of the corner of her eye the mail screen scrolling with still more copies of her bomb. Her bra was stretching along her burgeoning breasts and she groaned softly with the sensation. She filled her cups and began to spill over them, the tops of her boobs moving slowly along beneath her wool sweater. She wobbled towards her bookshelf, where she kept her spellbook. She blinked twice, trying to think over the pleasurable throbbing of her bulging boobs. How did this happen? She tried to figure it out, even as her hands almost involuntarily raised to her burgeoning cleavage to feel the smoothness of her breasts slide beneath her sensitive fingers. Clearly, somewhere some toy mail server had failed, and had even violated protocol and sent the non-delivery message to the Reply-To address instead of Errors-To. She was breathing heavier now, and deeper. She reached the bookshelf and leaned against it, looking down to find her breasts had stretched out her woolen sweater into two beautiful mountains. Even as she watched, the mountains grew out another inch. Her hands pressed in on her new growth and she breathed heavily again for a moment as the sensations rushed through her. She let go and fell against the bookshelf with the shock of cessation. The returned message violated the listserver's strict format requirement, so it had forwarded it along to Shelley's machine. And somehow... oh, shit! Her autoreply feature! She tore one hand away from her swelling chest, already stretching her sweater out to unreasonable dimensions, and ran it along the volumes on the lower shelf, reaching the spellbook from which she had cribbed the breast growth cantrip. She pulled it out and tossed it onto the sofa. Her autoreply had done her in, she realized. She had a daemon set up on her system to autoreply to any email that started with Re: with a canned flameback, anonymously posted out with a return address of the same listserver the complaint was addressed to. She had set it up a few weeks ago to save herself the effort of flaming the dead-brains who whined back to her postings. But in this case, her canned flame went to the same lame mail server, which bounced it back to her listserver, which sent it to her - a vicious unending circle. A massive mailing cluster fuck, which had filled her mailbox with dozens of copies of the reply in mere minutes. She fell onto the sofa face-first and screamed at the burst of ecstasy that shot through her as her massive mams were compressed. She felt the unfamiliar pressure of her enormous breasts, and breathed heavily. She reached down to the book and stopped as she realized that she had to reach *down*. Her boobs had ballooned so that even compressed beneath her body, they were the size of large pumpkins. And they were still swelling. In a bit of a panic now, the tension in her breasts still increasing, she flipped through the pages of the book looking for the spell. As she flipped, she tried to figure out how big she was going to get. The spell was supposed to double the size of the breasts, but she'd seen the invocation line many times... how many? A dozen? More? So what would that do? She was starting to lose sight of the book now as her horizon was being blocked by the expanding curve of her cleavage. Her skin felt so tight! She couldn't resist feeling the expanding field of boobflesh before her, rising out of her sweater, now grown as tight as spandex, the knit beginning to pull apart from her frontal force. Two to the twelfth, she thought. 4096. Her tits were going to grow to 4000 times their original size? She *had* to stop this... But it felt so good. She was getting so hot from her increasing roundness. She managed to get the book up above her breasts and balance it on top of her tits. She nearly orgasmed from the feel of the rough old leather rubbing against her taut breasts. Her left boob was beginning to pour off the sofa, and she heard the sound of her knit sweater beginning to rip open. She found the right page in the book as she was lifted to a nearly 45 degree angle by her now-beanbag-sized breasts. Her sweater finally gave up the fight, and her breasts tore into the open. The sensation of the cool air on her firm, tight skin brought her to another rush. She gasped out the counterspell and felt the popping of the spell. She sighed with relief but then her breathing deepened again -- she was still growing! She could feel her tits overflowing the sofa - she was completely immobile now, and in a panic she yelled out the counterspell again. Again she felt the popping release of the magic, but still she was growing. As her tits forced her up further and further, she began to realize that the ceiling looked awfully low. Her breasts were now perhaps four feet across and still growing when she realized that she had to counterspell *every* invocation individually - basically break out of each growth loop. She began repeating the counterspell as rapidly as possible, but after the second slip of the tongue which made her start over, she slowed down. She got through counterinvocation number 5 as her hair brushed the ceiling. Her feet had left the sofa a few minutes before; she was now completely supported by her massive mountains of flesh. As that fifth counterinvocation completed, the magic snapped around her and the growth slowed to a stop. She breathed out in relief and started the counterinvocation again to decrease her new developments when she suddenly stopped. She had control, she could shrink herself anytime -- there was no rush. She ran her hands over the broad plain of breast in front of her and shivered at the touch. She smiled and closed the book; there'd be time enough for the counterspell again tomorrow. She rubbed herself again. Or maybe Monday, she thought.