Ratings Advisory: The Earth Media Content Group has determined that this story can only be read by people above the age of 18. It contains subjects and situations that are suitable only for mature audiences. Parents with underaged children will need to activate their content-advisory programs now.
 

1

The planet Outback, early summer, 2447. Marsha Jarvis, 18, was traveling across the Carpet Prairie in her off-road trike. She wasn't there for the scenery; the Carpet Prairie was known for its lack of trees and hills. However, without those trees and hills, nighttime sky viewing was incredible. But Marsha wasn't out in the prairie to see stars. Like the majority of Ockers do at least once during their life, Marsha was on a walkabout.
    A walkabout could be described as a journey that one takes in order to evaluate their life. Others did it to gain inner peace and a better appreciation of the world they lived in. For Marsha, she needed an experience that would help her decide what to do with her life. As the daughter of Paul and Lynnae Jarvis, two of Outback's most celebrated heroes, Marsha had to endure the consequences of her parents' fame. At stores, Marsha was treated to incredible discounts. Sometimes she was allowed to take her purchases home free-of-charge. During Founders Days, Marsha and the children of Paul and Lyn's friends sat with the Governor on a parade float during the Day One Parade. She even cut the ribbon for the opening of a new EMS station in New Darwin.
    There was a downside to this attention. For one, the Paparazzi were always nearby. As with tabloids centuries ago, some people had to know everything there was to know about Marsha and her family. The coverage was especially bad when Marsha got her predestined growth spurt. All female descendants of the first Felicity Wilcox were blessed with ample growth when they reached the magical age of 14. For Marsha, it was really dramatic. Hardly a day after her birthday Marsha knew she was growing. In exactly two months the girl was positively dizzy with height, having grown from 149cm to 174cm. That alone made her friends literally raise their heads in wonder.
    Then came the breasts. Marsha didn't mind being blessed, but she wished God hadn't blessed her so much in that one particular area. Like her added 25cm of height, Marsha's breasts were also dramatic in development. From a flat tabletop chest that didn't even rate a 30A bra, the daughter of Lynnae Wilcox Jarvis boasted a 36J bustline to complement (some would say overwhelm) her 174cm frame. The Paparazzi ached to get a clear picture of the buxom girl's chest. Out of necessity, Marsha often had to cover her ladybumps as much as possible. She didn't want hordes of fanboys drooling over pictures of her cleavage and bust. Only in places free from the press did Marsha wear clothes that offered more than a tiny hint of breast skin.
    It's not to say that Marsha didn't have some fun with her size. Her parents rented out a natatorium for her 17th birthday. With no press to take photos, Marsha wore a little piece of nothing for her pool-side party. With the full encouragement of her mother and Amber Carson (a friend of the family), Marsha clad herself in a yellow thong bottom and two bikini triangles held to her bust with body paste. Some of the boys she invited were utterly unprepared for what they saw. In embarrassment, they ran to the restrooms when their manhoods betrayed them past their swimming trunks. Others boys simply waited out their automatic reaction to Marsha's stunning beauty. The attending girls made discreet giggles as they complimented Marsha's choice of 'swimwear'. To make it up to the boys, Marsha played several rounds of the ancient, decadent game known as Twister. The boys were delighted. Playing a game that guaranteed physical contact, especially with a girl that had big natural norks, was a dream of every healthy red-blooded boy.
    Marsha was fondly remembering all the cute boys at the party when reality showed its hand. The trike hit an obstacle. Shaken, Marsha brought the vehicle to a stop, raised the canopy, and stepped out. She knew that the damage was bad from where she was standing. Inspecting the front tyre up close, one didn't need be a wizard to see that it was finished. Even the support strut was cracked. Marsha looked behind the trike and saw the culprit that did the damage. It was a partly-buried block of plasticrete, probably dumped decades ago by a passing air lorry.
    "Dammit!" Marsha punched the ground. "The moment I turn off the obstacle avoidance system is when I run into a stupid rock. It's a good thing my insurance will cover this." In a less-than-pleasant mood, Marsha got back in the trike. She used her wetware to bring up a regional map on the dash-mounted tri-dee projector. "Now, where the closest place I can get my trike fixed?" Her wetware answered her question. A small red dot pulsed on the tri-dee map. "Hmm. Walla Wan. Population - 58. One service station... and a motel. About 35 kilometers to the southwest. That's well within range for the emergency repulsor-lift unit." Marsha turned to the passenger in the trike's rear seat. "Snarl, do you need to go pee-pee?"
    Snarl, a six-kilo miniature dachshund, was still fast asleep on his blanket. Marsha's parents felt that their 'little' girl should have a companion, as well as protection, on her walkabout. One can argue about the practicality of having a dachshund for protection, but Marsha appreciated the companionship that Snarl provided. The little dog was always eager to play fetch and chase jackalopes for the fun of it. Marsha was amused by the mischievous antics of her pet dog. However vicious he could be, as proved on several occassions against fangtooths, Snarl couldn't match the protection a police-grade stungun could offer.
    Marsha shrugged her shoulders. "Okay, rat. You had your chance. The next stop is in 35 kilometers." She enabled the emergency repulsor-lift drive, setting the altitude for two meters. The obstacle avoidance system was turned on as well, just in case the trike ran into a herd of tall grass deer. Marsha grasped the steering stick and accelerated to 65kmh, thinking of what she was going to tell her parents about the mishap she just had.

Walla Wan was a truly small place. If it wasn't for the label on the map, then the black spot representing the town would've been mistaken for a printing error. A fertilizer company was the town's main employer. The 58 people who lived there had the necessities. There was a service station that also doubled as a mini-motel for travelers, a multipurpose municipal building, and a general store. A ranch-style bar was on the 'outskirts' of town. Even bergs like Walla Wan have their zoning codes.
    Marsha brought her trike to a stop at the Scoop's Service 'n' Sleep. An employee, possibly Scoop himself, came out to greet the new arrival. He looked as if he had a smile on his face since the day he was born. "Well, little lady, it seems your trike had a bit of a spell." The man looked at the broken wheel and strut. "You'll be needin' to fix this right away?"
    "The sooner the better, Mister..."
    "Scoop's me name, Miss." The man offered his hand. Marsha accepted and shook it. "It'll be awhile for the nanite bath to get all the cracks in the metal."
    "How long are we talking about?"
    "No-more than a day at most. I'll get the process started the soonest." A silly grin placed Scoop's smile. "I imagine you need a room for the night. You're in luck, Miss. You get the choice of the lot. Each room has a view of all this scenery." He gestured at the bland landscape around him.
    Marsha giggled. "Do the rooms come with tri-dee?"
    "Of course, Miss. We're not that far from civilization." Scoop had a pleasant laugh. "Let's get your trike in the garage and fill out the paperwork."
    After a minute of work the small vehicle was in place. Scoop removed the damage parts and simply dumped them in what appeared to be a fish tank. In actuality, the tank was filled with industrial nanites. Somewhat larger than their medical cousins, these nanites were designed to mend broken metal parts back together. This resulted in a great savings for spare parts and eliminated waste. Not to mention that it made for cleaner garages. Scoop inputted some commands into the nanite control computer, only waiting to get a confirmation before escorting Marsha to the front desk. "Okay, Miss," he said as he put on the figurative hat of motel owner, "I'll need to see some ID."
    Marsha produced an ID card from her fanny pack. "Here you go."
    After a moment's wait the transaction was completed. "I'll need your signature, Miss." Scoop handed a file pad to Marsha. "Just sign on the bottom."
    Reading the fine print and the related charges on the pad, Marsha then applied her decorative signature. "Done," she said, handing the pad back.
    A look of revelation appeared on Scoop's face. "Jarvis. Are you related to Lynnae and Paul Jarvis?"
    Marsha made an internal sigh. I hope Scoop isn't a frothy-mouth goober. Despite herself, a bit of irritation crept into her reply. "Yes I am, Mr Scoop. Would you like an autographed photo?"
    Scoop looked hurt. "No disrespect intended, Miss Jarvis. I'm not one of those rabid fanboy types. I respect and admire your parents' work."
    "I'm sorry my words came out that way, Mr Scoop. I'll be happy to give you a photo." Marsha whistled. In a moment Snarl entered the room, eager to be picked up by his mistress. Marsha collected the happy little dog in her arms, petting and stroking his fine coat of brown fur. "Where do you want me to stand?"
    A bit cheerful, Scoop pointed to a section of wall. "Right there is good enough, Miss. To show you my appreciation, I won't charge you for the room and all meals are on the house."
    "Thank you, Mr Scoop. You're too kind." Marsha made a short, feminine giggle. Well, I guess my parent's fame has actually worked for my benefit in this instance.
    Scoop had his camera ready. "Okay, Miss Jarvis. Smile for the camera."
    The girl smiled. Snarl tried to smile as well, but ended up barring his teeth, as usual. People seeing the photo for years to come will have no doubt that Marsha had one vicious little dog as her pet and protector.
 

2

After settling in her motel room, Marsha made a call home to her parents. Paul Jarvis, her father, listened as she explained what happened. The tri-dee image of Paul's face wore a knowing paternal smile. "Don't sweat it, honey. These things happen every once in a while. I wrecked the family car when I was your age. Mom and Dad were outwardly mad at me, but they were happy nonetheless that I was uninjured."
    "Thanks, Dad." Marsha was visibly relieved. "But my insurance premium will go through the roof."
    "Not as much as you think, Marsha. Once you turn 30 the rates will drop appreciatively. At 120 the rates will be very low."
    "Yeah, because no one at that age drive their own cars. They make their great-grandkids drive. How much does a 250-year-old pay for car insurance? Five credits a year?"
    "Be more respectful of your elders, pumpkin. We know what we're talking about."
    "Okay, Dad." Marsha stuck out her tongue at the tri-dee face. "Is Mom there?"
    Paul's image was replaced with that of Lynnae. By the calendar, Lyn was 72. Due to prolong, her body was that of a woman in her mid '30s. But there was no denying that she had the look of a parent. "Thank God it was just a wrecked tyre. It would've been a shame to see your pretty legs all banged up."
    "And what boy would want to look at my legs when my top is much more inviting?"
    "Marsha!" Lyn giggled. "Still thinking dirty, aren't you? How many Romeos did you have to fight off?"
    "Amazingly none, Mom. I've kept to the back roads and only visited towns for supplies and repairs. I sleep in a pup tent under the stars at night. Snarl is watching after me."
    "Good to hear, Marsha. I didn't raise you to be a heartbreaker."
    "No, you raised me to be neck-breaker." It was Marsha's turn to giggle. "No boy is going to touch my norks unless I want them to."
    "Just don't provoke them, Marsha. Keep you glories covered as much as you can." Lyn winked. "Some men go bonkers at the slightest hint of canyon cleavage."
    "I heard that," Paul said amusingly off-screen.
    Marsha looked a bit red in the face. "So that's what you two have been doing while I'm gone. With Trent at soccer camp, you two have the whole place to yourselves. I bet Dad leaves the bathroom doors open."
    "Marsha," Paul said again off-screen.
    "Well," Lyn said, "I better let you go, hon. You still have many more places to see on this planet."
    "Thanks Mom. Kisses." Marsha turned off the portable tri-dee projector. Snarl was still curled up in a ball, resting at the foot of the bed. "I wonder what's happening at the bar?" Using her wetware, the girl accessed the room computer. Walla Wan's public datanet was quite terse as expected. Marsha found the data on Floyd's Beer Barn in less than a heartbeat. It was a typical western-style 'beer and BBQ' establishment. Also typical for its chosen venue, Floyd's had a weekly wet T-shirt contest. Tonight, in fact.
    A mischievous grin crept across Marsha's face. Girls were entitled to act naughty once in a while. According to Lyn and Auntie June, an occasional act of naughtiness can enhance a girl's sex appeal and display her 'fertility' for all the boys to see. Marsha giggled at the thought. Her mother had told her to keep her norks covered. But that didn't mean they couldn't get wet. They would be covered by a T-shirt, after all. Every curve and swell would be highlighted, not to mention the nipples, but not a square centimeter of skin would be exposed. Besides, a 500-credit prize would go a long way paying for food and incidental expenses. Like a new tyre, for example.
    In a minute Marsha donned an old pair of short-shorts and a snug T-shirt. Giving her glories a gratuitous shake, the girl was sure that she would be the winner of the contest. After checking her dark-brown hair in the mirror, she turned to Snarl. "So, what do you think?" The sleeping rat dog didn't so much as stir a muscle. "Well, so much for your opinion. You better keep watch, though. Make sure no one enters the room and steals my stuff. Comprende?"
    This time Snarl did respond. He simply yawned, looking at Marsha with cute, sleepy eyes. "Okay, rat. I'm going now. Just remember to use the box."

Floyd's Beer Barn was clearly built for the weekly wet T-shirt contest in mind. At the center of the rapidly-filling main room was a large square stage. Women from neighboring towns (if one can call a town 50km away a neighbor) participated in the event for the purpose of having a good time. The men in the audience wanted to watch wet breasts bounce underneath equally-wet T-shirts. The owner of Floyd's wanted to sell as much beer and steak as possible. Everyone wins.
    Marsha felt confident that she would win. There were only nine other participants, and the 'largest' of them had a bust 12cm smaller than Marsha's. Also, the next-tallest girl was 10cm shorter than her. With her bust and height, Marsha had every right to feel confident. Her blue eyes sparkling with naughtiness, Marsha got on stage with the other women and waited for the cheesy MC to finish his spiel.
    "Okay, people," said the MC, "it's time for these blouse busting beauties to strut their stuff before we make them wet. Let's give them all some encouragement." And the crowd went wild. Yeah. Taking casual steps with their pretty legs, the ten blushing beauties made three complete transits on the stage. They showed off their potential by pulling back on their T-shirts and pushing out their prominent pride. Without a doubt, these sheilas were working the men close to slobbering incoherence. Only the presence of well-practiced bouncers insured that an incident didn't occur.
    "Now, for the moment of truth!" said the MC. "The hot norks on these sheilas are threatening to burn away the T-shirts! Let's cool'em down for everyone's sake!" With an accompaniment of hooting and hollering, the garden hose was finally brought out. All ten women were doused with liberal amounts of water directed at their bosoms. Then, one by one, the women stepped forward and shook their wet T-shirt clad chests for the audience. Acting a bit more naughty, Marsha tied the bottom half of her copious tee into a knot. By doing this she exposed her flat firm stomach and slim waist. The men whistled and yelled their approval. When it came time for the five-man judging panel to vote, the result was a forgone conclusion.
    With her impish grin in place, Marsha won the prize and a free 14oz steak dinner. Some of the men offered to eat the steak - they didn't want Marsha to lose her wonderful waistline. Bashfully, Marsha shooed the admirers away and went to eat. After spending two hours chitchatting with some of the more cute-looking hunks, Marsha slipped out of the bar and returned to her motel room.
    One quick shower later the happy girl was ready for bed. Snarl was excited, for he detected the smell of steak on Marsha's clothing and breath. Marsha picked up her loyal pet, bringing him level to her face. "Well, Snarl, you're looking at a girl who's won 500 credits tonight. I had the biggest chest and sexist body on stage. What do you have to say about that?" The little dog wagged his tail as he licked Marsha's face. "You stomach. You're only interested in food. Sorry, no doggy bag tonight."
    Snarl licked Marsha's chin and cheeks again. "That won't work either, you rat. No snacks after din-din." She placed Snarl at the foot of the bed. Yawning, Marsha raised her arms over her head. Her breasts, highlighted by the shirt, were like snow-covered hills. "Boy, that dinner is settin' heavy in my tummy. We'll be doing some exercises in the morning to burn off those excess calories." The little dog was already asleep, undoubtedly dreaming about five-kilos steaks cooked by a master who would gladly give one to his favorite pet. Marsha worked her way under the blanket. With her ware, she turned off the lights and enabled the security routines. She could sleep peacefully knowing that her ware was keeping a vigil, not that Snarl was doing the same thing. "Be a good dog and protect me, Snarl. Mom and Dad are depending on you." The little dog made a barely-audible woof. Smiling, Marsha faded off to sleep.
 

3

By 11 a.m. the next day the trike was fixed and ready to go. Marsha and Snarl resumed their journey after accepting a complimentary lunch and food packets from Scoop. For the next hour she watched the monotonous Carpet Prairie landscape go by her canopy. Marsha had to think out loud to relieve the boredom. "Snarl, what do you think would be a good career for me? Can you see me as a hairdresser? A fashion model? Or even a police officer?" Snarl, ensconced in his backseat nest, worked on a steak bone. He was more interested in chewing up the bone than to offer even a woof in support.
    Marsha harumphed. "Snarl, you're a typical ratdog. You're only interested in food. I'll reach my own conclusions." She engaged the autopilot system, freeing her hands so she could count off her fingers. "Being a hairdresser means never having to buy your own beauty products again. But you'll end up smelling like a walking perfume counter. Not for me."
    "A fashion model gets to try out new clothes all the time. More often than not they become actresses and even politicians." Marsha grinned. "But privacy is lost, and fanboys want you to sign photographs. Photographs that depict yourself wearing nothing but a G-string and a smile. I think I can skip that option."
    Snarl yawned, exposing his sharp white teeth, and went back to chewing the bone. "Lastly," Marsha added, "is the police option. Mom did a lot of exciting things when she was a cop. But I can't see myself being one. Everyone would end up comparing my performance to hers, and that wouldn't be fair. The only thing that would be the same is the criminal fixation of big breasts under tight police shirts. People who gawk at my norks creep me out." Marsha turned to see Snarl's reaction. The dog was still chewing away. "You really have to speak more, Snarl. You're just too dang quite."
    A beeping noise made Marsha to look at the dash-mounted screen. A large vehicle, possibly a counter-grav RV, was standing motionless two kilometers away. As the trike drew closer Marsha had the optics zoom in on the vehicle. It was indeed an RV, and it was a top-of-the-line luxury model at that. A large side-mounted access panel on the vehicle was open, and what appeared to be the driver was working, apparently to effect repairs.
    Ever since she was a child, Marsha was warned about strangers. Especially ones who pretended to be stranded motorists and preyed upon the good Samaritans who offered their help. Thoughts of the M12 Murderer and the Dragging Death did occur to Marsha. She acknowledged her concerns, but also reckoned on her parent's training... and the stungun she had hidden between her breasts. That, plus the nanite-built stunshield incorporated into her bones and flesh, would give her the edge to overcome any impromptu attack on her person.
    Marsha brought the trike to a halt next to the RV. She raised the canopy. "G'day. It seems you have a bit of a problem there."
    The driver, an elderly-looking man dressed in casual summer clothes, looked thankful. "Oh yes, young lady, I do. The power system failed and I'm having a devil of a time tracking down the problem."
    "Sir, have you used your distress signal yet?"
    "Not yet, Miss." The man looked concerned. "I'm a tourist from Earth. I've heard stories about criminals who prey on stranded travelers here in the prairies of Outback."
    "Well, I can assure you that I'm not a criminal." Marsha chuckled. "You have enough power to call the nearest town for a tow?"
    "Unfortunately not, Miss..."
    "Jarvis. Marsha Jarvis. I can call for you."
    The man looked happy. "Thank you, Miss Jarvis. That's just what I need to know."
    Marsha felt something hit her neck. Upon checking, she pulled out a small dart from her flesh. It was a tranquilizer dart. Her mother had shown her such a dart years ago. She looked at the man and noticed a small barrel protruding from his forearm.
    Smiling, the seemingly sweet-looking old man took on the air of a sinister disciplinarian. "Good night, Miss Jarvis. You'll need your beauty sleep."
    Marsha had just enough time to sit back down into her seat before the drug took effect. She fell unconscious, her head hitting the center of the steering wheel. The horn blared its ugly sound for 10 seconds before the trike's computer turned it off.

It was night when Marsha woke up. Lying on her back, she could see the stars in the sky, including Matilda, the distant red dwarf companion to Outback's sun. She tried to breathe through her mouth, but couldn't. There was a gag around her mouth, and it was irritating. She discovered her hands and feet were bound as she tried to move. This is great, she thought, the first opportunity I offer my help I get kidnaped by some geriatric off-worlder. This sucks.
    Marsha's kidnaper hoved into view, holding a portable area light. He looked smug and full of himself. "Hiya, doll," said the man. "I bet you're wondering what's to become of you now. Right?" Marsha's mad eyes gave the man his answer. "Now, now, don't be so mean and cross. After all, you did this to yourself, Missy. You knew better than to participate in that wet T-shirt contest last night. Especially since you're the daughter of Lynnae Jarvis. Hasn't your mother told you what happens to naughty girls when they get caught? There were several unsavory characters in the audience last night. I was one of them."
    The look of defiance Marsha wore made the man smile. "Oh, you're wondering about a great many things, aren't you? Well, for starters, you can call me Vinny. Your dog is locked up in a travel cage in my RV. Sedated, of course. He bit me twice, that ratdog, but he'll get his later on." Vinny looked toward the eastern horizon. "Your trike is doing an admirable job of traveling by itself. The onboard computer has been programmed, you see. It will appear that you're still onboard, making occasional stops and such. The canopy has been made opaque, so no one can detect that you're not driving. After a month the powercell will fail, but by then it'll be too late."
    Vinny sat next to Marsha. "Your wetware communications have been silenced. You're wearing a jamming collar around your neck. There's nothing I can do about your integrated stun-shield, but I've placed a sleep agent in one of your drug implant sacs. That will take care of any ideas you may have about escaping. You see, I'm off to attend a convention of my fellow Bigguns brothers. With you as my prisoner, my induction as the new Grand Poobah will be remembered for decades to come. Now, let's get you inside the RV. A full night's travel awaits us." Like a man taking away his war bride, Vinny carried Marsha over his shoulder.
    Marsha had heard about the Bigguns. According to urban legends and tabloids, Bigguns were groups of men that try to imitate the 'lifestyle' practiced by the late Mr Big. The operative word here was try. From all social backgrounds and stations of life came the Bigguns. To a man, each one wanted every day to be the same - being surrounded by top-heavy, underclad women who played and partied all the time. Unlike the Disciples of Big, who aspire to achieve Big's criminal prowess, the Bigguns hope, work, and pray to attain the same level of pleasure that Big experienced each time he was with the ladies. Most of them would never attain that goal, but it wouldn't be due to a lack of trying.
    Now back at the RV, Vinny placed Marsha in one of sleeping cubicles and removed her restraints and gag. "There you go, Missy. You got five minutes to use the toilet before a dose of the sleep drug is released in your bloodstream. And don't even think of removing the collar. It'll shock you."
    Marsha sat defiantly on the bed, arms crossed. "You'll wish that you were shocked once I get my hands on you, Vinny. You Bigguns are nothing but fools and deros."
    "An empty boast, Missy. I would've taken that threat seriously, but you're nothing but a sassy girl." Vinny stepped out of the small cubicle. "You'll make a right-pretty addition to the Bigguns. Get use to wearing tight T-shirts and short-shorts from now on, Missy. Even then you'll be overdressed." Before Marsha could react, Vinny closed the cubicle door. Only Marsha's pounding could be heard past the door.
 

4

The RV reached its destination by midmorning. Marsha looked out from the sleeping cubicle's small window. There were at least five other RVs in the area and a small number of 4-wheel off-road buggies. And a sizeable number of Bigguns. Some of them were tall, others short, but all had beer guts. Marsha was certain she would gag if the men took off their shirts to reveal their hairy, prominent bellies.
    Vinny opened the cubicle door. Like the Bigguns outside, he wore a pair of knee-length shorts and a decorative T-shirt. On that T-shirt was a cartoon image of a man seated on a sofa. A six-pack of beer was on his belly and in each arm was a top-heavy floozy. Under the image was a sentence in red lettering - It takes a big man to handle three ladies at once. "Okay, Miss Jarvis, it's time for you to get dressed. Here." Vinny shoved a pair of shorts and a tank-top at Marsha. "Take these and wear them. I'll show you the camp and introduce you to the boys."
    "Just what will that accomplish? What's preventing me from running away?" Marsha handled the offered garments like rotten pieces of fruit.
    "Apart from the sleep drug implant and the collar, the only thing preventing your escape is the sunbaked expanse of the Ovenpan Desert. If the no-shoulders don't get you then the sun will." Vinny wasn't making an idle threat. The Ovenpan Desert was the hottest region on Outback. That, plus the lack of water and shade, would make any trek across its stoney surface a sure ticket of death if one didn't bring their own supplies.
    "Yeah, I figured that would be a disincentive for escape." The terrain beyond the campsite reinforced Marsha's feeling that this wasn't the time or place to make an escape. And she certainly didn't want to leave Snarl in the hands of the Bigguns. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll have to change clothes."
    "That shouldn't take too long, Missy. There's not much to wear!" Vinny waited outside while Marsha donned her new garments. Without bothering to knock, he opened the door thirty seconds later. Marsha was just pulling the tank-top over her bust. Vinny made a wolf whistle. "What pale breasts you have, Missy. A few suntanning sessions will that care of those norks."
    "Lecher." Marsha looked fumed. "Go on - show me off to your beer buddies."
    "No need to be angry, little woman." With a clammy hand, Vinny ushered his charge out of the RV and toward a large tent. "Here, I'll introduce you to some of my friends now." Taking relief in the man-made shade was six Bigguns. Each was inhaling hamburgers and slamming down 24oz bottles of Jack Sprig, an Outback beer. Marsha was sure that these men were sweating pure alcohol from their oversized pours. "Friends," Vinny said grandly, "I'm so happy to see all of you! Especially Ollie and Winnie! Congrats on your promotions."
    The one name Ollie belched, which to Marsha seemed to be considered a greeting amongst the Bigguns. "Yeah, I'd say so. I and Winnie will be helping the Grand Poobah tonight for the festivities." With the eyes of a snake oil salesman, Ollie ogled Marsha's snug tank-top intently. "Woo-he, what a fine filly you gots tonight, Vinny. Everyone's gonna get an eyeful of her."
    "I'll throw my two cents at that as well." Winnie (short for Winthrop) said as he scratched a thick hairy leg with an equally thick finger. "This'll make for a memorable anniversary."
    "Anniversary?" Marsha said unintentionally.
    Ollie looked perplexed. "Vinny, you brought a girl along and didn't tell her the good news?"
    Vinny raised his hands to placate the group. "I just wanted to be with you guys before I spilled the beans." He then looked down at Marsha. "Girly, you know what happened 30 years ago this month?"
    A rightfully smug look appeared on Marsha's face. "Sure. Back in 2417 Mr Big's ship, the Heavenly Bosom, was destroyed. Big himself was disposed of by my mother."
    Ollie belched, which he often did when he was surprized. Then again, Ollie belched most of the time. "Hey, I recognize that face now, especially in combination with that bust. You're the daughter of Lynnae Wilcox!"
    "That's Lynnae Jarvis, you bunch of dim-witted deros. All of you have alcohol on your brains instead of water."
    Vinny appeared satisfied. "As you just observed, Marsha obviously inherited her mother's bad attitude." The audience made what had to be their trademark laugh, which sounded like a fangtooth trying to clear its throat. "The Grand Poobah will be most pleased. Tonight's celebration will be the best. Marsha, it's time that you meet the girls. They're not as big as you upstairs, but that'll change. Oh yes, that'll change!" Vinny's eyes glazed over, making Marsha all the more nervous. The other Bigguns were caught up in the moment too, their eyes unfocused and mouths open. Edging closer and closer to the tent entrance, Marsha surrendered to her impulse to try an escape attempt. Just by looking at these men told Marsha that their brains only worked hard when needed - and this wasn't one of those times. Swiftly, she darted out of the tent and ran toward Vinny's RV. A more-aware Biggun saw her and moved to intercept. The tubby man outmassed Marsha by 2.5 to 1, but Marsha had hand-to-hand combat training whereas the man had none at all. It took only a moment to get the man flat on his back, knocking the liquor-laced breath out of his lungs.
    Marsha's victory came at a price. Vinny broke out of his self-imposed stupor and noticed his charge was missing. He instantly pressed a button on his minicomp. One of the sleep drug implants released its contents into Marsha's bloodstream. The girl noticed the effects of the drug fast enough to protect her face as she fell. Vinny and his friends gathered around the now-sleeping girl, their lecherous eyes working over each and every curve. "Gotta remember to be more aware of my surroundings now that we have this vixen," said Vinny. "Someone help me take Sleeping Beauty here to the girl's tent. Marsha must be prepared."

Hours later, Marsha awoke to the smell of sweet perfume and the sound of soft giggles. Resting upon a large cushion, the unintentional guest of the Bigguns looked at the women that sounded her. For some as-yet unknown reason, these women obviously liked the company of beer-guzzling lechers. As with Marsha, the women wore short-shorts and tanktops. The biggest one was perhaps a 34H, but no-one was smaller than a 30E.
    A lovely-looking brunette held out her hand. "Hello. My name is Jasmine."
    Marsha accepted the handshake. "Nice to meet you, Jasmine. I'm Marsha."
    "Our boyfriends have told us about you, Marsha. We're to make you look all pretty for tonight's celebration."
    "The Grand Poobah likes his girls to look pretty," said another girl, her hair the color of wheat.
    "I keep hearing about this Grand Poobah. Who is he?"
    Jasmine smiled. "Oh, he's the sweetest, most generous man a woman could ever want!"
    "Yeah. What exactly does he do? What's his job?"
    "He makes a woman feel like the most important person in the universe." Jasmine cupped her norks and moaned softly, making Marsha produce a good-sized sweatbead of worry on her forehead. "He looks you in the eye, talks very slowly, saying the nicest things..."
    Marsha raised an eyebrow. "He wouldn't happen to be using the Meese Method of Mind Control?" Marsha recalled a conversation she had with her mother a few years ago. While he was alive, Mr Big taught a limited form of mind control to his top subordinates. Like a bad penny, the secret to this method survived Big's demise and was kept in use by various individuals. Including, unfortunately, the Bigguns.
    "I wouldn't know about that," said Jasmine. "The Grand Poobah has a way with words. But we're wasting time." She clapped her hands. "Pam, you wash her hair. Gerty, you do the nails. I'll pretty her face once you two are done. And Ellen, get some clothes lined up. The Grand Poobah likes it when we wear costumes and playact."
    Costumes, Marsha thought worriedly. Oh, great, this Poobah is into roleplaying. With my luck he's probably into lesbo stuff as well.  If that's the case, he better be up to having his fat face hit repeatedly by my fists!
 

5

Night. The Bigguns camp was in the party mood. By Marsha's count there were at least 20 men attending. At the center of the camp was a stage, complete with lights and speakers, which was erected earlier in the day. Dinner was the expected messy orgy of consuming for the Bigguns. Marsha ate with the girls at a separate table. Despite that, she found the girls just as lewd and raunchy as the men. She was thankful not to witness the Bigguns' after-dinner ritual of belching and scratching. Her stomach wouldn't have been able to keep the dinner down had she witnessed that.
    Ollie and Winnie ushered their friends to take their seats in front of the stage. On the stage was a recliner, presumably the Grand Poobah's throne. After talking with Winnie, Ollie got on stage and raised his hands to get silence. "Everyone, please rise in honor of the Grand Poobah. The Grand Poobah, the living embodiment of the sexual prowess possessed by the late Mr Big that we, the Bigguns, try to emulate each and every day."
    "Bigger breasts make for better love making," said the Bigguns in reply.
    The Grand Poobah was dressed like his followers, but on his head he wore a two-place beer caddy like a crown. From each can was a tube, and for a moment he sucked down some brew before addressing his men. "Greetings, my Bigguns. Let's start this meeting of the Bigguns, Outback Chapter 5, with the traditional introduction." He held out his hands, opening them up like he was about to glom a pair of phantom breasts. His followers mimicked his gesture. Poobah then closed his hands on the imaginary norks. "Glom!" He said firmly.
    "Glom!" Replied the Bigguns.
    "First on the list of business is the establishment of a new clubhouse in Perth. With this new clubhouse we'll be able to teach new members the mind-control technique that Mr Big, may he rest forever in the deep bosom of the cosmos, had seen in his wisdom to give us. The old clubhouse in Layton, which has served us well, has gotten too small for us."
    "I'd say so," offered Winnie. "After what happened to those two sheilas you had shacked there, we definitely need room for expansion." The crowd laughed.
    "That is the other reason, Winnie. The new clubhouse will be properly equipped to handle four 'very big' girls. In addition, there will be the wet bar, darts game, a pool table, and all other sort of amenities." After a few minutes of discussion the selection for the Perth Clubhouse Committee was complete. "Next order of business, the confirmation of Vinny as my successor. He has done well over the years, recruiting new club members and arranging parties like this one. And," Poobah grinned, "I'm to understand he has come across a fine female. A very fine, built-up female."
    Vinny stood up in the audience and accepted the accolades from his fellows. "Yes, yes, thank you. Marsha is indeed every bit as righteous and spirited as her mother, Lynnae Wilcox Jarvis." He spoke the last three words as if they were epithets. "Now it will be our pleasure to exact our revenge on that goody-goody. Marsha will make a very fine addition to our Perth Clubhouse."
    The Grand Poobah allowed his followers to hoot and holler their approval for several moments before settling them down. "Save that for the show, my fellow Bigguns. It is now time to induct Vinny into the office of Grand Poobah. Ollie, fetch the girls for our entertainment. This will be a night to remember."
    Ollie was smiling. "At once, your Poobahness."

Marsha didn't have a long wait in the RV. Ollie came to fetch the girls. Dressed as cheerleaders, the collection of walking giggles ascended the stage to the accompaniment of wolf-whistles and applause. God, this sweater is uncomfortable as all get-out, Marsha thought. She waved her poms-poms like the others, but only her face showed enthusiasm. Inside, she was both intrigued and annoyed. What is this dog-and-pony show all about?
    Vinny raised his arms. "Bigguns, it is time to give our former Grand Poobah, Casper Lytes, a farewell performance. I, as your new Poobah, will insure that such performances continue in the future! Winnie, get the girls seated!"
    At Winnie's prompting, the seven girls on stage sat, forming a widely spaced circle Vinny smiled magnanimously, holding a bottle in his hand. "I'm sure you all know about that fine game known as Spin the Bottle. Usually played by girls, this game has the participants sitting in a circle. A bottle is placed in the center and spun. When it comes to a stop in front of a girl, she has the choice of telling a personal secret, or taking a swig from the bottle. The last girl still sitting upright wins. Without further ado, let's get started." Vinny handed the bottle to Winnie, who in turn placed the bottle in the circle. He spun it.
    Except for Marsha, the girls were eagerly waiting for the bottle to stop. It did - right in front of Jasmine. The brunette-haired girl grinned. "I often didn't wear a panty in my highschool classes." The audience hooted and hollered. With a slight grin, the girl spun the bottle again.
    Pam, the redhead, beamed when the bottle stopped in front of her. "I worked in a bar to earn money for a nanite injection. My parents never found out." The crowd clapped its approval.
    The bottle was spun, its neck ended up pointing at Marsha. Highly distrustful of the bottle's contents, Marsha decided to talk instead. "When I was a little girl, I played dress-up with my friends. I placed two balloons under my blouse so I would look like my mother." That revelation made the men laugh and snort.
    The fourth spin had the bottle facing Ellen, another brunette. "Gosh, don't know what the say. Besides, I'm thirsty!" Gleefully, Ellen removed the bottle top and took a swig. Winnie recovered the bottle quickly - the contents had to be shared with the rest of the girls.
    Marsha, eyes wide, stared at Ellen's front. The girl's sweater rapidly filled up - and out! In five seconds Ellen had basketballs under the increasingly-strained sweater material. The blossoming girl ummed and cooed, her hands at the sides of her inflating womanhood. Rapid ripping and tearing sounds filled the air, the stitches on the poor sweater lost their battle against the breasts. With a soft wail, Ellen pulled off the remains of her sweater, exposing her new watermelon-sized bust.
    Vinny got on stage, looking insufferably pleased. "I bet you're all wondering how Ellen got so big so fast. She requested an additional 51 centimeters on her chest, and I happily gave her a nanite injection earlier today. And you just saw her taking a small swig of Bubbles, the BE soft drink created by the late Mr Big, may he rest forever in the deep bosom of the cosmos." The audience muttered an amen. "Well, recall what happened to Laura and Osa in our old clubhouse. True, they were slowly growing to become pillow women, but Casper gave them a swig of Bubbles to see if that would speed things along. Well, just as you have seen here, the Bubbles greatly accelerated the work of the nanites. Thanks to the magic that is Bubbles, the extra mass was provided instantaneously. The nanites worked like a bunch of gold-happy dwarves on dope! Now this is what we call instant breast gratification! It takes only a very small amount of Bubbles to speed up the nanites. Now, how about we finish this game of spin the bottle? You'll be delighted to see the other girls get big as well. They, too, had nanites injected."
    Alarmed, Marsha felt up her own breasts. Even with the sweater fabric in the way, she could tell that she had grown measurably bigger during the day. Had she worn a bra, then the growth would've been detected earlier. Vinny had not allowed the girls to wear bras. After all, nanites had turned bras from a necessity to a fashion choice. God, he must've injected me while I was asleep last night. The question is, just how big will I become?
    The bottle was spun, ending in front of Pam again. She looked quite the happy camper. "Well, I don't know about the others, but I definitely want what Ellen got!" Pam took a swig of Bubbles and handed the bottle to the girl next to her. That wasn't allowed in Spin the Bottle, but the girls didn't care at this point. They wanted to get bigger - now. Rapidly, Pam's breasts attained massive size, equal to those of Ellen's. Another mangled sweater ended on the stage.
    As Ellen and Pam explored their new flesh, Gerty partook of the Bubbles. It was then that Marsha realized that the sweaters were specifically made to tear open easily due to expanding breasts. Gerty's eyes were likes those of a child opening a Christmas present as she watched her sweater stretch and tear. It, too, joined its brethren on the floor. After Gerty came Jasmine, Zoey, and Velma. Now there were six women on stage playing with their melon breasts. The Bigguns were enjoying every minute of it...
    ...except Marsha. The bottle ended in her lap. She felt like it was a bomb ready to go off. "Marsha, what are you waiting for?" asked Vinny. "Don't be the odd girl out. There's just enough Bubbles left for your swig."
    "I don't want it." Marsha held the bottle, her hand clenched tightly around it. "I'm big enough upstairs. Go find yourself another girl, or I'll pour this stuff out on the ground."
    "Now, now, Marsha," said Vinny warmly. "Don't do anything rash. We don't want anything to happen to good old Snarl now, do we?" He snapped his fingers. Ollie stood up, in his arms was a sedated Snarl. "Be a dang shame if Snarl was run over by our four-wheelers. You know how dachies get underfoot."
    Marsha's resolve melted away. Cruel and stupid as the Bigguns were, Marsha didn't want the death of Snarl on her conscious. She undid the bottle top and lifted it up to her lips. "Okay, I'll drink this damn stuff. But listen well. If you harm Snarl, I will punish you all with my righteous indignation."
    The crowd ooohed and awed in fake fear. Vinny, adorned in his Grand Poobah beer-caddy crown, just looked down at the willful girl. "More likely it will be your righteous breasts! Now drink up."
    With eyes closed, Marsha put the bottle to her lips and tilted it back. The last swallow of Bubbles went down her throat. It tasted good, but to Marsha it was as if she ingested poison. The magical drink coursed through her body, allying itself with the breast-enlarging nanites and made her expansion speed-up a thousandfold. What would've taken close to a month was accomplished in mere seconds. Instead of ripping at the sides, Marsha's sweater parted in the middle, exposing her ever-increasing mass - and cleavage - to the approving crowd. She looked down at her bust, which had now taken over her lap and was threatening to go past her knees.
    "Don't you worry your purty head, Missy." Vinny got down on one knee and patted Marsha's right breast, which looked as big as an Outback melon. "You have the same bust/height ratio that your mom had just a few years ago." He playfully slapped the breast, making subtitle shockwaves that propagated across the surface of the skin. "Whereas Lyn had a 185cm bust, you have 209cm. Thank the Good God of Oz that you're taller!" The crowd cheered and clapped.
    Marsha made a fist, for she ever so wanted to punch Vinny in the face. Then she remembered Snarl, and how easy it would be for Ollie to break the little dog's neck. She kept her hate in check, but uncertainty about what was going to happen next was in her mind. Just what else do these Bigguns have in store for her as well as the other girls?
 

6

The Bigguns pulled up camp the next morning. Vinny said that the party would be continued 'in a new location'. Marsha didn't like the sound of that; then again she didn't like a whole lot of what she saw and heard. All the girls were traveling in one RV. With plenty of time on her hands, Marsha spoke with her six companions. It came as a sickening shock to discover that all the girls were on their own walkabouts when they encountered the Biggun caravan. By use of the Meese Method of Mind Control, the girls were made to enjoy, even want, the company of the Bigguns. Several times during the girls' recounting Marsha felt she was about to wretch. The Bigguns had to use mind control in order to make up for their sloven appearance and bad manners.
    At the RV's dining table Ellen fussed over a pile of oversized tanktops. "Oh geez, which one should I choose?"
    Next to Ellen was Gerty, who was joyfully fondling her tee-clad watermelons. "They're all the same size. It's Marsha that will have problems. She's bigger than the rest of us." She had a point. The tallest Bigguns girl had a 164cm bust. Marsha, with her 209cm glories, was clearly carrying the biggest load.
    "Yeah, that's something I've been meaning to ask." Ellen scooted on next to Marsha. "Your mother had a bust very much like the one you have now. She had it for what, fifteen years?"
    Marsha was a bit intrigued that Ellen had a question to ask. She decided to oblige her. "Yes, that's right. She returned to her natural 32H size when I turned 15."
    "Why did she do that? There are quite a few Angelican-sized teachers on Outback. Was it something that your Dad wanted her to do?"
    "No. My mom decided long ago that fifteen years was enough. She wanted to return to the size that God blessed her with at puberty."
    Ellen giggled and playfully poked Marsha's chest. "You're righteously big, Marsha. Did you ever dream of being as big as your Mom?"
    "Several times, Ellen." Marsha poked Ellen's norks in turn. "Oh, I've dreamed of being way bigger than Mom. Pillow woman size even." The girls giggled, but Marsha took on a serious tone. "I was given my normal-sized chest for a reason, Ellen. I'm not carrying outsized bumps just so sloppy rude men can gawk at them all day."
    "You're not being fair to Vinny and the others. They're wonderful. They're tender and sweet." Ellen picked a tank-top at random and handed it to Marsha. "Here. There's enough stretch in these tops so that it will fit you. A tight fit, but a fit nonetheless."
    Worrybead in place on her head, Marsha imagined herself wearing the yellow tank top she had in her hand. "My nips will be seen as clearly as eyeballs when I put this on."
    "Especially when you're wet." Ellen looked impish. "We're going to wash the RVs this afternoon. The boys love to see us wash vehicles while we're wearing tank tops. Afterwards, there's the waterhose fight and water balloon toss."
    Joy and Yummies, Marsha thought sourly.

The caravan stopped at a pond in the afternoon. A brace of hoses was inserted into the pond and the water extracted with portable pumps. The RV wash was pretty much what Marsha expected. She was made to wear a tank-top that had to be stretched to the limit to fit around her bust. A pair of short-shorts only half-heartedly tried to cover her bottom, exposing a fair potion of cheek for the Bigguns to stare at. It was also a forgone conclusion that the girls got wet. Still getting use to their new mass, the girls often lost control of their waterhoses. They were doused with streams of cool water, making them laugh and giggle like the little girls they were pretending to be.
    With her nipples standing out like eyeballs past her wet top, Marsha made herself work on the windshield of Vinny's RV. The man in question was sitting in the driver's seat, watching Marsha do her work. In order to reach the upper part of the windshield, Marsha had to press her breasts as close to the glass as possible. For Vinny, it was like seeing two huge spheres trying to break through the glass. He really wanted those breasts to hit him in the chest and fall into his lap.
    I wish the glass would break so my breasts could suffocate that smug bastard, thought Marsha. This is like one of those bad college comedies. All that's missing is the nerd with the taped-up minicomp. Her breasts made a squeaking noise as they moved down the glass, undoubtedly Vinny was enjoying it to the fullest. Marsha made a mean look on principle, looking at Vinny in the eyes as she did some spot cleaning on the windshield frame. She saw the RV's vehicle identification number (VIN) on the dashboard, and committed it to memory. It might prove useful later on. Besides, it wasn't a hard number to forget, since it contained her current measurements - 209-64-91.
    After the RV wash the girls turned the hoses on themselves. It was playful water fight reminiscent of innocent summer afternoons. Girls giggled and bounce, their wonderful fronts wobbling with delight. Marsha got in the fun too, throwing water balloon bombs. Because she was the biggest one, the return fire more often than not got her. It seemed as if her breasts were like magnets, attracting the balloon bombs like they were iron filings. The real challenge was lobbing the bombs without losing balance. Again, this caused delightful jumbles and gyrations of watermelon-sized knockers.
    The Bigguns applauded the girls, and gave them towels to dry themselves off. Dinner consisted of burgers and hotdogs, which were eaten rapidly. An unavoidable round of hugging was performed as the girls re-entered their RV. Marsha felt her skin crawl, known that she had to take another shower to remove the ickiness she was feeling. It proved futile to remove the tight tank-top and shorts normally, so Marsha settled on cutting them off with scissors. She correctly deduced that the Bigguns had plenty of clothes for the girls to wear. They must've saved a fortune by bulk-buying T-shirts, tank tops, and short-shorts that were all the same size. As a result, selecting clothes in the morning was rather simple. Now draped in a really large nightshirt, Marsha made her bed and fell asleep. The question of where the caravan would eventually end up remained unanswered.
 

7

On the third day of Marsha's captivity the caravan made a stop at a lake complemented with a beach. A volleyball net was built, and the girls were told to put on their thongs and pasties. Vinny was downright gleeful when he handed Marsha her yellow 'swimwear'. "I took the liberty of removing it before sending your trike on its way. You were planning to wear this, weren't you? Find yourself a small resort and make all the boys lust after you, right?"
    Marsha swiped the fabric from Vinny's clutches. "That's no business of yours, lecher. When will you remove this damn collar? It's getting irritating." She tried to pull the jamming collar apart with her hands, but the device gave her a rude shock.
    "Now, now, my lovely set of muffins. You know I can't do that yet. Your wetware will immediately try to contact the authorities. That collar will come off when your 'ware is deactivated. We'll be meeting with a few more Bigguns in three days. One of them is a doctor. He'll whip up some nanites that'll short-circuit your 'ware."
    "Is that what you did to the other girls? Even with mind-control, you had to take precautions. Practically everyone has wetware implanted nowadays."
    Vinny stroked his chin in thought. "Yes, you definitely share your mother's intuition and insight. Well, all I can say is that the other girls don't miss their 'ware at all. They're having fun playing games and giggling all the time. Now, slap that thong and pasties on your sexy body."
    "I will, but only after you tell me what has happened to Snarl."
    "Don't you worry your pretty bottom, Marsha. Snarl is being taken care of."

"Hey, Stu, this little varmint is a vicious bugger, isn't he?"
    "Yeah, Ollie. He's killed everything we put before him. Boy, those doggies turn mean when you don't feed them for three days."
    Behind one of the RVs the Bigguns erected a holding pen for Snarl. Out of sight of Marsha and the girls, the oversized boys placed bets on Snarl as he fought other small animals. The dog had just fought a desert fangtooth. He held the dead weasel-like creature in its mouth. Snarl was also looking at the men with a cold intensity. A dangerous kind of intensity.
    The man named Stu pulled a stun gun from his holster. "Okay, time to put the rat to bed."
    "Not so fast, Stu." Ollie reached into the pen. "After I get this fangtooth let's throw in another. I want to win my money back."
    Ollie should've known better than to offer his hand to a hungry, mean dog. Snarl dropped the fangtooth and sank his teeth into Ollie's hand. The fat man yipped in pain. "Get him off me!"
    "Hold still! I'll stun him!"
    Snarl released Ollie's hand and made a prodigious leap at Stu. The dachshund chomped down on Stu's wrist, making him fire the stunner at his rotund friend. Ollie collapsed on the ground like a ton of bricks. "Stop that!" Stu was frantic. He heard that Snarl was related to Smudge, the devil dachshund that tormented Mr Big on several accessions. Stu didn't want to experience what Big went through, so he shoved the stunner into his other hand. "Okay, you rat! You're going to sleep now!"
    With a growl, Snarl let go of Stu's arm and landed on the ground. Then, making another energetic leap, he bit the oily man in the crotch. His pride destroyed and in immense pain, Stu fell backwards in a heap. To prevent further agony, he used the stunner on himself. Snarl stopped his biting and sneaked away. He sensed that his mistress was nearby. Perhaps she had some food for him to eat.

Marsha stood before a full-length mirror in the RV. She was trying to position the remaining triangle pastie over her left nipple when she heard the pitter-patter of little dachshund feet. She looked down in joy as she saw her precious Snarl sitting up on his haunches, whining to be picked up by his mistress. "Snarl! Oh, you little rat! You're alive!" Marsha sat on the floor and scooped up the little dog in her arms. Snarl situated himself in Marsha's cleavage and began to lick her face off.
    "Okay, okay, I love you too, rat." Marsha hugged her favorite little dog. "But I can't keep you here. Vinny will make a burger out of you." Snarl whined when he heard the word burger. "Oh, you must be starving. Let me get you some din-din." A minute later, after raiding the RV refrigerator, the happy girl fed the quite-hungry dachshund. Snarl went into the offered hamburger like it was the best thing in the universe. "What am I going to do with you? I can't keep you between my breasts all the time." Then an idea occurred to Marsha when she saw Snarl's collar. He took it off him, and inspected the inner surface. "Yes, it'll work! I'll need a knife." Mindful of her mass, Marsha made her way back to the RV kitchen. Selecting a suitable knife, she then carved the RV's VIN number on the inner surface of the collar.
    Snarl finished his burger, looking quite satisfied. He then drank his fill of water from an offered water bowl. He didn't protest when Marsha picked him up and put the collar back on him. "Okay, Snarl. Wait until I finish dressing." She giggled at her own bad joke. "What I have on now is the furthest thing from a dress I can think of." A minute's work later, Marsha applied a triangle pastie to her left breast over the nipple. She inspected her overwhelming profile in the mirror. Only one breast at a time could be seen fully on the narrow viewing surface. Placing herself on one knee, Marsha picked up Snarl and hugged him. "Snarl, I need you to leave. The only way you could've gotten to me was by attacking a Biggun. You'll be killed if you stay. Run away from here. Someone will find you and my parents will be notified. They'll see that VIN number on your collar." She hugged Snarl a bit tighter. "You hear me?"
    Snarl made a soft, affirmative growl. As a descendant of Smudge, Snarl possessed above-average intelligence for a dog. He knew that he and his mistress were in a bad place and that help was needed. He licked Marsha's face again.
    "Okay, you rat," Marsha said. "Go now before I cry." She placed Snarl back on the floor, letting him sneak up to the RV door. Then, like the super rat people often mistaken him for, Snarl darted outside with incredible speed. Marsha made a silent prayer for Snarl, hoping that a good Samaritan would pick him up soon. She collected herself and took a deep breath, her huge breasts quivering urgently. Then she left the security of the RV. What awaited her was another round of ogling and pawing at the hands of the Bigguns.

The volleyball game started a few minutes after Marsha sent Snarl on his way. Two teams of three were selected. Velma, the odd-one out, served hotdogs and beers to the Bigguns as they watched the game. With such big breasts, the girls make their playful jumps look like erotic fantasies made flesh. The serves were particularly glorious, with pairs of breasts being jutted forward with urgency. Sometimes the volleyball made contact with the girls' melons, making them squeak in discomfort. Other times they landed on their norks, leaving huge depressions in the sand. But that was only part of it.
    After the game, the girls were washed down with water pumped from the lake. Despite herself, Marsha allowed pleasure to show on her face as she rubbed her body in an effort to remove the sticky-sweaty feeling. Her breasts occupied most of her efforts, for there were patches of sand and grit affixed to it by sweat. The Bigguns gave her a standing ovation as she parted her breasts so Velma could spray the cleavage with refreshing cool water. After that, towels were handed out and the girls dried themselves to the accompaniment of more applause.
    Vinny snapped his fingers. Ollie stepped forward and handed soda cans to all seven girls. "You dolls sweated up a storm. Gotta replace all the water you've sweated from those sexy little pours." He raised his own soda in a toast. "Here's to more big bouncy antics."
    Really thirsty, Marsha chugged down the drink. She noticed the peculiar taste as it went down. It was like a citrus drink, sticky and sweet. Starting in her belly, she felt a warm sensation creeping into her breasts. She had this feeling before. Turning indignant, she looked at Vinny with an accusing face. "Vinny, your Grand Poobahness, don't tell me you gave the girls more of that Bubbles drink?"
    "Certainly, my dear," said Vinny in a patronizing tone. "We're Bigguns, after all. We want our girls to get bigger all the time. Last night, as all of you slept like sweet babes, we gave you additional injections of nanites. In the drinks we gave you were small doses of Bubbles. Tasted like citrus soda, didn't it?"
    Marsha wanted to fire back a hot retort, but the warm sensation in her breasts intensified. Then, with widening eyes, she watched them grow. With no fabric in the way, Marsha witnessed her breasts fill and push away from her body. She wrapped her arms under her bust in an effort to support it. Her growing mass spilled up and over the impromptu arm corral, determined to reach its destined size. Looking about her, Marsha saw the other girls grow too. They were positively giddy with happiness, making little jumps so that the growing flesh wiggled with delight. Marsha made her accusing look at Vinny again. " Is it too much to ask to know just how much bigger I'm gonna get?"
    With authority, Vinny walked up to Marsha and tilted her chin up with his forefinger. "Oh, not all that much, my dear. The other girls will get BH ratios of 1.5, while you," he licked his lips, "due to your special status, will go up to 1.8. With your height, that'll make your bust a cool 313 centimeters. In the old measure, that's over 123 inches. That's positively huge, my dear. What do you have to say to that?"
    Marsha said nothing. Instead, she kicked Vinny in the shin and rushed him, pushing the big man on the ground. Marsha lost her balance and fell on top of him, her bust trapped the lecher under two flatten fleshy spheres. Two Bigguns came to Vinny's aid, pulling Marsha back onto her feet, her breasts returning to their proud rounded shape.
    "That'll cost you, girly!" Vinny pressed a button on his wristcomp. Marsha yelped as the collar around her neck emitted a small electrical charge. Her legs felt weak, and she collapsed onto the ground. As it was, she couldn't see directly in front of her due to her breasts. She had to tilt her head up a bit. When she did, Vinny was looking down at her. "You have some nerve, girly. I'll be glad when you lose your will to fight back. Perhaps you would like to see your precious pet fight some fangtooths, eh? That can be arranged."
    A commotion behind Vinny attracted his attention. Stu and Ollie had recovered from their involuntary stuns and told Vinny what had happened. The Grand Poobah then turned back to Marsha. "I bet you had something to do with this, Marsha. Where's your dog?"
    "Snarl?" Marsha said coyly. She managed to sit upright, her bust projecting proudly in front of her. "You mean that you've allowed a small dog to escape? Call a search and find him. Here." She parted her breasts. "Check my cleavage. He might be hiding in there."
    "Shut yer trap, woman! Your lap dog won't survive one day out in the wilderness."
    "You'll be surprised, Vinny. My Snarl is a most resourceful dog."
    "I can't stand it when you're this defiant." Vinny pressed another button on his wristcomp. A dose of the sleep drug was released into Marsha's body, and she was soon dozing off. Not-so-tenderly Vinny removed Marsha's triangle pasties from her breasts. He tweaked her nips like they were light switches. "Damn girl. She will come to see me as her master." He looked at the other enlarged girls, who were still foundling their beachball boobs. "Ellen, Gerty, Jasmine! Take Marsha back to the RV. Work on making her more feminine and soft."
    The trio giggled. "Oh, we'll be more than happy, Grand Poobah," said Jasmine. With one girl holding the legs and one at each breast, Marsha was lifted up and taken back to the RV.
 

8

Marsha was enthroned in the sleeping area of the RV. Her breasts were like huge loaves of bread, rising and spilling over her torso. Jasmine poured skincare lotion onto Marsha's left breast. She then spread the creamy white substance over the skin in a spiral pattern. "Marsha, you must accept the honor that Vinny has bestowed upon you." Another application of lotion was poured on the breast. Jasmine repeated the process, this time on the outer side of the seated breast.
    "What honor is that, Jasmine?" Marsha watched with interest as she was tended by three of the Bigguns girls. Jasmine continued her administration on the left breast. Gerty was working on the right breast while Ellen massaged the back. Despite what had happened to her, Marsha enjoyed the attention she was getting, being pampered like an honored guest at a luxury resort. "Having my norks as big as they are now doesn't rate as an honor in my book."
    "Oh, but it does, Marsha. Vinny has made you his rest-mate. Your bosom will serve as the Grand Poobah's pillow and comforter."
    "If that's the case, Jasmine, then why hasn't he made me bigger? I'm not quite pillow woman size yet."
    Jasmine and the girls giggled. "Oh, but you will, Marsha. In three days we'll be arriving at the Barn. It's a home away from home for Vinny and his pals. Once there, you'll be made a pillow woman and enjoy all the luxuries that such a life has to offer. Two extra meters of bust will be added to your top, Marsha. I and the other girls are envious."
    "Jasmine, envy is the last thing you girls should feel about me. In truth, I feel pity for you and the others."
    "What makes you say that? We have it easy."
    "For now, Jasmine. Have you ever wondered about your future? What will you do when the Bigguns tire of your company?"
    "They'll never tire of us, Marsha. We love to be around them."
    Boy, that mind-control sure does run deep. Marsha thought for a minute. "Don't you wish you could show your families what wonderful friends you have in the Bigguns?"
    Jasmine retrieved a handtowel before answering. After drying her hands she placed the towel down into her cleavage for safekeeping. "Oh, I don't think my family would want to see me like this!" She patted her breasts like long-lost friends. "Only when I get a ring of diamonds on my finger will I take Ollie home to Mom."
    "Ollie? You like Ollie? He has more hair on his belly than a carpet."
    "Yes! It's so much fun when I shampoo it for him!"
    Marsha decided to stop asking questions for the night. It was clear to her that the girls had been under the Bigguns' mind-control for some time. A properly-trained psychiatric team would be needed to release the girls from the insidious control placed on them. What really concerned Marsha was this Barn place Jasmine mentioned. Already the center of attention, Marsha instinctively knew that the arrival at the Barn will mean a new round of ogling and glomming. Her enlargement to pillow-woman size will undoubtedly be the highpoint of the Bigguns party plans at the Barn. Sighing, Marsha looked at the little antigrav tray to her right. It contained the usual hair care supplies, like combs, hair clasps, and gel. And a bobbypin.
    With a deft hand, Marsha retrieved the bobbypin and stowed it under the fold of her right breast. She noticed that the collar she wore used an old-fashion key lock instead of electronics. Vinny had taunted her with the key a few days ago. What he didn't know was that Marsha was taught all about key locks from her father Paul. Many people consider the bobbypin and lock cliche to be just that, a cliche. Marsha knew otherwise. Once free of the collar, her wetware would function normally, which meant it could neutralize the sleep drug implants. Oh yes, Marsha still had some surprises left in her, which the Bigguns will find out to their detriment.

The arrival at the Barn was rowdy to say the least. The Bigguns acted like a gaggle of fraternity boys that reached their favorite pub. Vinny, the Grand Poobah, stood over the assembled Bigguns, 26 in all. Six of them were newcomers, not part of the caravan that Marsha's been part for the last six days. Included in that group of six was the doctor that Vinny mentioned. The dampening collar will no longer be needed after Marsha has her visit with Bigguns' resident Doctor Jack Feelgood. Special nanites would disable Marsha's wetware communications and data storage functions. It wouldn't due to have a permanent record of Bigguns' faces and voices for the police to go over.
    Marsha's appointment with the doctor was scheduled after the celebration, though. That night the Bigguns began their party with a short meeting. Vinny wore the beer-caddy crown and an apron that read 'kiss the chef' over his Bigguns T-shirt. He raised his hands to silence his boisterous friends. "As Grand Poobah of the Chapter 5 Bigguns on Outback, I open this meeting with the traditional introduction." As before, he held out his hands, cupping large phantom breasts. "Glom!"
    "Glom!" The Bigguns said in reply as they imitated his gesture.
    "Now on to business. There is the matter of the Founders Days holiday and its attending merriment. The floor is open for suggestions on where to hold the Founders Days party."

The girls were backstage in a large room. Some were sitting at tables, applying light makeup to their faces and areolae. Other were checking their breasts in huge mirrors. Bust beauty oil was used by all the girls, giving their norks a wonderful sheen of sexuality. In front of one mirror Jasmine gave Marsha's shoulder-length dark-brown hair a final promise before turning the massive girl around. "Oh, Marsha, you look gorgeous. Each of the boys will want you for themselves."
    Marsha, like the other six girls, was just 'dressed' in thongs and sandals. Finger and toenails were painted a bright red, as were the lips. Just above the starting point of cleavage on each girl were the words 'watch your step' in black bodypaint. One had to be very close to see those words. With her blue eyes, Marsha checked her hair in the mirror. "That's what I'm concern about, Jasmine. The only way they can read the small words on my chest is if I sit on their laps. Attempt to sit on their laps, I mean."
    Jasmine made a familiar soft giggle, making her beachballs ripple slightly. "You won't be sitting in laps tonight, honey. The boys will sit between those mighty orbs. You're going to be a pillow woman tonight." She patted the top of Marsha's breasts. "Such lovely, soft breasts you have, Marsha. I wish I could join you."
    "In a way, I wish you could join me. At the least, you'll contend with one man at a time."
    Ollie lumbered into the room, his hair combed for the first time that Marsha had seen him. "Okay, you buxom belles, time for you to line up on stage. The guys want their show."
    Marsha walked up to Ollie, keeping her jiggling breasts in line with her arms and hands. "What kind of show are those bottom-burpers expecting? Watching us sneeze?"
    "Something like that. For starters, you girls will do some pole dancing."
    The girls smiled and eagerly followed Ollie on-stage like a clump of ducklings keeping up with their mother. Marsha took up the rear, her bust performing the part of a moving wall. The walking parade of big breasts came to a halt. On the stage were seven slim metallic poles. Attached to the stage below and rafters above, these poles were ready to be ensconced between the breasts of the practically-naked women. As if they've done it before, the other six girls went to their poles and began their sensual gyrations and rotations. Marsha imitated what she saw, though her 313cm bust limited what she could do with the pole. But the Bigguns didn't mind, just so long as she moved up and down, the very act of breathing making her breast flesh quivering with expectation. But the other girls, being a bit 'smaller', were able to do more with their poles. They swooped, leaned backwards, twirled like tops about the poles like pros. A brace of ceiling spotlights illuminated the stage. Glossy boobs wiggled and heaved, the watching men were quiet, afraid that loud breathing would spoil the magic. You can bet that each man imagined himself as one of those poles. A hard, resilient shaft of strength between huge womanly spheres of pleasure was one of the Bigguns' greatest fantasies. But tonight, that fantasy actually had a chance to become reality.
    Vinny ascended the stage after the girls did five minutes worth of pole-dancing gyrations. "What a fine display of feminine sensuality. Give the girls a hand." The applause was loud and spirited. Even the slight curtsy the girls made elicit another round of clapping. "Now, I have a special announcement to make." With a snap of his fingers, Vinny had a section of floor in front of the stage open up. A large tub, filled with mud, raised into position. "After considerable deliberation with my predecessor, I've decided to enlarge another girl tonight in addition to Marsha. That girl, however, will have to fight for the honor of being a pillow woman. The six girls will wrestle each other in pairs. The three finalists will square off in the second round. After that, all the girls will be hosed down and the winner will get inflated."
    And the crowd went wild - yeah. Four luxury-sized recliners were brought forward and placed near the mud tub. Marsha and Vinny sat side-by-side in one pair while Casper Lytes, the former Grand Poobah, sat by himself. The empty recliner next to him waited for the winner of the wrestling match. As for the matches themselves, they were not so much as wrestling as boob foundling. Sure, there were occasional twists and pins, but the problem remained of simply getting to one's opponent. When both participants had beachball boobs a simple frontal attack would not do. In the three preliminary matches the winners got behind their opponents, holding onto them like busty bushbears. After prolonged ten-counts (to maximize the audience's viewing pleasure), the three finalists went at each other with playful gusto. Throughly covered in mud, the three fighters looked like ancient berserker warriors. Getting holds were more difficult. Simply grabbing a breast was an exercise in futility, but the Bigguns loved when the girls tried anyway.
    At the end of the final round it was Jasmine who emerged as the winner. She was cheered and applauded as she emerged from the mud pit, her bosom heaving with joy. Then came the wash down. All six girls removed the mud with deliberate care. Due to the huge amount of surface area the breasts offered, the wash took a good bit of time. The Bigguns were happy to wait, watching as the girls caress and recheck each other breasts for any missed patches of mud.
    Marsha watched the matches, but she also took in her surroundings. Her mother stressed the importance of knowing what was in the local environment. With cool eyes, Marsha took note of the ceiling lights, the mud pit, and the sound system. She also checked the bobbypin she had stashed in the fold of her right breast.
    Vinny noticed Marsha's hand movement. "Hey, Marsha, seeing you move your boobs like that has given me an idea. Before I blow you up, you're gonna perform a breast-foundling dance on stage. You won't be able to do that at all when your norks get bigger."
    Thinking fast, Marsha realized that being on stage would suit her plan perfectly. "Why not? It'll mark the last time I was able to move about on my own power."
    "Good girl. You're gonna love it being a pillow woman. I just know it."
    "Yes," Marsha replied in a cute voice, "I'm sure it will be peachy."
 

9

The Barn was at the western edge of the Ovenpan Desert. Typical of the area, the primary flora was dominated by a hardy breed of turf grass. Located atop a natural rise, the Barn was safe from flash floods that often occurred in the area. On the maps, the Barn was simply listed as a private garage for off-road vehicles. But the two sets of eyes looking at the Barn with imagers knew better. Along with special help that determined the number of people in the structure, the duo knew the identity of one person in particular. Whatever else may come when they stage their attack on the Barn, the duo was determined to rescue the one person that caused them to be there in the first place. Silently, the duo approached the Barn.

Grinning again, Vinny silenced his fellows. "Okay, now its time to inflate the winner - Jasmine!" The mentioned girl blushed, putting her hands up to her face in belated modesty. With a greedy hand, Vinny withdrew a hypo from its holding place in his left sock. Jasmine was quite eager to grow, her friends sensed the palatable feeling of joy that came from her body. "Our sweet Jasmine will get a bust/height ratio of 3.2, making her bust an awesome 525 centimeters!" Like a cobra, Vinny applied the hypo to Jasmine's left breast. "There. Like before, Jasmine got a mix of Bubbles and nanites. Growth will occur momentarily."
    It was only a moment when Jasmine grew for a third time. Her overwhelming beachballs, which started from below the collarbone and ended at the waist, surged with new flesh. In seconds the bottoms of her norks obscured her crotch. Ballooning to the sides, the spunky girl was unable to reach the fronts of her heavenly mass, her tweakable nipples were just out of reach, and increasingly more so. When the growth reached her knees, two of her friends helped to keep her upright. Jasmine looked as if she was getting a lorry-full of birthday gifts. When the growth stopped just below her knees there was silence in the room. Then, as if on que, the Bigguns gave Jasmine a golf clap. Blushing heavily, Jasmine was taken to her recliner. When she sat, her might beanbag orbs settled to either side of her, making a man-holding cleavage that begged for someone to take residence.
    Vinny was that man. He snuggled into the waiting breast canyon. Jasmine mewed as Vinny played his fingers across the flesh around him. "Good! Oh, does this feel good! Now, it's time for Marsha to make her little dance."
    Walking on stage by herself, Marsha looked at Vinny with contempt. "I would gladly be twice the size of Jasmine if I could throw you and your friends in jail, Vinny."
    "Oh, I can easily make you bigger, my dear. Doc Feel Good! Program the nanites to give Miss Righteous here a 10.5 meter bust. That's exactly twice the size of Jasmine's glories!" The room roared with laughter, Marsha's face flared red with contempt, not embarrassment. Vinny clapped his hands. "Alright! Before Marsha does her gyrations, I believe Casper Lytes has something to say to the girl."
    Casper stood up, looking a bit righteous himself as he gazed at Marsha's heavenly breasts. "Marsha Jarvis, you may not have heard of me, but I'm Casper Lytes. I use to own an auto parts supply company... and I'm a former member of BCCI - Big Crime Cabal Incorporated."
    Marsha made a nod. "Yes, my Mom told me about BCCI. But I don't recall your face from the scrapbook. Perhaps you where too much of a small fry to be mentioned."
    Casper's face twisted with heat and hate. "Shut up, you! It was because of your Mom and her friend that one of the most ambitious breast-expansion capers was foiled." Casper was trembling, his hands locked into fists. "I was driving the truck, pulling a humongous load of Bubbles and Big Brew. Your Mom just had to be a Nosey Parker. It was because of her that Big's glorious plan was thwarted."
    "Now I remember more about the story." Marsha's bust heaved with righteousness. "You just had to have a Boiler Android Trooper in your truck. Plus, you were driving the most famous truck on Outback, Large Marge. Really, anyone who drives a road train can expect to attract everyone's attention, including the Police. Finally," Marsha enjoyed the look of percolating frustration on Casper's face, "you would've done much better with several regular air lorries instead of the road train. And registered them under a different company instead of the P & W Beerworks."
    "Oh, God, you are your Mother's daughter! I hate that smarty know-it-all attitude! I was sent to prison for 20 years. Every day I thought of getting back at your Mother somehow. Now," Casper licked his lips, "I can't think of a better way of getting back at her than this. Watching you dance on stage, 95% naked and breasts bigger than beachballs, will more than make up the time I spent in prison." He laughed, and his fellow Bigguns laughed as well. "Now, Marsha," he added, "dance! Shake those big boobies one last time before I make you my pillow woman. Do a big booby dance to mark the 30th anniversay of Mr Big's demise at the hands of your mother."
    The crowd was chanting 'shake it, shake it'. Even the girls urged Marsha to strut her stuff. She looked to the ceiling, back down at the Bigguns, and then to the people in the front row. The sight of Jasmine and her beachball bust made up Marsha's mind. She started with a slow, slinky walk around the stage, shaking her bust occasionally. Catcalls and yelps greeted each new undulation of her womanly mass. Then she swayed her hips, exaggerating her movement like the ancient burlesque performers of old. Her audience ate up every tidbit she gave them. The Biggun doctor finished with his job of programming the nanites. He handed the hypo to Vinny, who in turned just placed it in his shirt pocket. He kept his lecherous eyes on the dancing girl.
    Marsha stopped in the center of the stage. She moved her hands over her norks slowly, wiping away the sweat that built up due to the hot spot lights shining on her. Then she stuck out her tongue and licked her fingers, making the men yell and hoot even louder. She winked at her admirers, moving her hands under her breasts so she could shake them with much more urgency. It was like two huge balloons filled with water shaking on stage. Marsha didn't lose her balance. Indeed, she had closed her eyes as she continued her chest shaking. Moments later the breast quakes stopped, her hands moving up the sides of her norks. She latched onto the collar around her neck and began another slow dance around the stage. Her hips swayed, though most of the time the Bigguns weren't even looking at her hips. Those breasts, those perfectly large, rounded breasts kept their attention. Vinny was glad he kept Marsha's nipples and areolae small, thus making her breasts look that much bigger. Marsha appeared to be heading for a climax of her dance. With breasts shaking at such a speed one wondered why the sound barrier wasn't broken. She stopped and opened her eyes... and pulled the collar apart.
    Vinny's gaping mouth was in response to Marsha's dance, now it was gaping for a totally different reason. "How did you do that?" he stammered. "You had no key!"
    "Well, you're wrong!" Marsha threw a bobbypin at Vinny's face, the same one she used to pick the collar lock. "Now my 'ware is functioning again. The Highway Patrol will arrive here shortly."
    "No way, Missy!" Vinny raised the minicomp he had in his hand. "I'll just give you another dose of night-night juice and carry you away." He pressed a button. Nothing happened.
    "Boy, you really are a dero. Don't you know my wetware is the police variety? You got lucky the first time with that built-in dart gun of yours. But now it won't work." Marsha mentally ordered the spotlights to shine down on top of the Bigguns. They all crouched like frighten animals caught in the torchlight of a night hunter. She pointed an accusing finger at the men before her. "Its men like you that make women turn lesbo."
    Vinny was quite angry when he heard those words. "Damn you! You've said the magic words!"
    "What magic words?" Marsha then noticed that the girls were no-longer their happy, cheery selves. Out of the blue, the sentence Marsha uttered moments earlier was the trigger phrase to break the girls out of the control placed on their minds. The girls looked at themselves, each other, and the crowd. All of them screamed and shrieked when then realized that this wasn't a place they should be in. They tried to run, but the heavy men stopped them from leaving.
    "Oh, Hell," said Marsha. "I didn't count on this. Better make the most of it." With another 'ware command, the sound system blared to life. It wasn't a sound that could be heard in the range of normal human hearing, but it could be felt by the internal organs of the Bigguns and girls alike.
    "Ohhh... My Spleen!" was yelled by several Bigguns at once as they were incapacitated by the sound. They, along with the girls, fell to the floor, clutching their guts and grimacing. All of them went unconscious due to the pain. Marsha's own ware protected her from the effects of the sonic assault. Seven of the Bigguns, including Vinny and Casper, were still standing. Obviously they had the same kind of shielding that Marsha had.
    "Enough fun for you, Missy," Vinny hissed. He clambered on the stage, hypo in hand. "I'm gonna blow you up and leave you as one giant bruise for the cops to find." Because of her size, Vinny expected to easily inject the Bubbles/nanites mix into Marsha. He was wrong. Marsha was taught to fight by her parents, and part of that training included how to fight with an Angelican-sized bust. Though much larger, Marsha used that training to devastating effect. Using her bust as a weapon, she rammed Vinny mercilessly in the gut. Her nipples became erect at such a speed that they had the force of a punch. Vinny bellowed, clutching his beer gut as he staggered backwards. Marsha swiped the hypo out of his hand and bust-butted him, sending him down for the count on the stage floor.
    Casper was next. Apparently he thought he was a wrestler, posing in a typical wrestler's crouch, ready to leap out at Marsha. Instead, Marsha took the fight to him. She ran and pivoted on one foot, striking out with her right leg. Casper was nailed cleanly in the head. As he held his head in pain, Marsha bludgeoned him into a whimpering mass with her breasts. Being attacked by what should've been a helpless woman, Casper gave up and allowed himself to be beaten to the ground.
    That left the other five Bigguns. Wielding improvised weapons in the forms of chairs, the five moved toward the stage. Marsha stepped back, quickly thinking on what to do next.
    A loud voice was then heard in the Barn. "Well, well. What's all this then? Five chair-wielding fatsos attacking a buxom maiden, eh? That's rather unfair, you know. You walking beerguts don't stand a chance in Hell."
    Marsha knew that voice. Her enhanced eyes allowed her to see two figures at the entrance of the Barn. One was none-other than Lynnae Jarvis, Marsha's mother, and June Norbert, Lynnae's best friend. "Mom! Oh, thank God you're here!"
    "Just stay there, honey," Lynnae said reassuringly. "I and June will take care of these clowns. Alright," she ordered to the obese men, "raise your hands. You're all under arrest."
    One jerk laughed. "No luck, bubbles! You and your girlfriend will be under us. C'mon guys! Let's flatten them!" The man's enthusiasm was the only thing going for him. In a minute, all five Bigguns were floored. Lyn and June would've finished them off faster, but the men had thick layers of fat that served as natural body armor against the women's karate blows. They had to restore to repeated crotch kicks to bring the men down.
    "Incredible," June commented. She placed her foot on top of a downed Biggun like a big-game hunter posing with his kill. "After all these years I still got it."
    Lynnae talked briefly into a comm unit, then looked at her much-relieved daughter. "Help will be here in a minute, honey. This weird turn your walkabout took will be over in a minute."
    Marsha was startled when she was grabbed from behind. It was Vinny, recovered from the blows inflicted on him by the girl. He was mad. Lyn and June moved toward the stage. "Halt!" he bellowed. "I got a stun gun in my hand. I'm pressing it into the back of her head, and it's set to full and double-shot. Her built-in shield won't save her. Be a damn shame to scramble her brain." Vinny started to walk backwards, dragging Marsha along with him. "Don't get any stupid heroic ideas, bitches, or else I'll make Bubbles here a drooling fleshdoll."
    "Believe him, Mom," Marsha pleaded. "Vinny has a real gun on me."
    "What do you hope to achieve, Buster?" Lyn's menacing look was all she had to use against Vinny.
    Now at the center of the stage, Vinny hit a spot on the floor with the heal of his foot. Part of the Barn ceiling opened up. Then the stage shook. Marsha was amazed to see the whole stage begin to rise. The dance poles retracted into the stage floor, and the familiar hum of a counter-grav power plant filled the air. Vinny chortled. "This stage is actually a high-speed air conveyor. I'll be takin' Marsha here on my idea of a magic carpet ride. A force field will keep us in place while we speed along at 500kmh toward my secret getaway car."
    June made one of her patent harumphs. "Nice plan. Are you aspiring to be Mr Big Mark 3? That Dobber guy didn't fair so good at the hands of David Carson."
    "Don't mention Carson to me again! Amber is actually worse than you two put together!" Vinny stamped his foot on the stage floor. "Damn cheap counter-grav! We should've been zooming by now!"
    The radical stage began to pitch and yaw, for the counter-grav Vinny bought really was of a bargain-basement variety. Marsha and her captor were pitched one way to another. Casper's unconscious body slipped off the stage and fell into the mud pit. That gave Marsha an idea. In her hand was the hypo that Vinny wanted to use on her. With the counter-grav still funky, she gave herself her third injection of the strange Bubbles/nanite mix.
    Lyn, June, and Vinny were taken aback by Marsha's growth surge. The rapid increase in mass did nothing for the stability for the stage - just what Marsha was hoping for. A violent pitch forward sent Marsha and Vinny skidding toward the edge. It was enough. Braking with her heals, the still-expanding woman grabbed Vinny's arm and yanked with all her might. The surprized man was flung forward, and he slipped off the stage like so much dead weight. He fell two meters before landing on top of Casper. Like his mud-covered friend, Vinny was rendered unconscious.
    Marsha grinned briefly, but her expanding norks kept on expanding. She, too, was sent over the side. But the fall was less than two meters, for the stage had completely turned on its side. She landed on top of Vinny and Casper, and the discomfort she felt was minimal. Only when it was freed of its human cargo did the stage clear the Barn roof and rocketed out of sight.
    Lynnae got in the mud pit with her daughter, moving as far into Marsha's cavernous-like cleavage as possible. She then hugged the stuffings out of her little girl as best she could. "I've seen some strange stuff over the years. But I've never seen where an expanding bust was put to good use like what you did just now. That was an ingenious and brave thing you did, Marsha."
    With a few tears on her face and her voice a bit choked, Marsha replied. "How did you find me so fast? Did you find Snarl?"
    Lyn kissed Marsha on the cheek. "We'll tell you later. First, we have to get you out of this place. What you need now is a nice hot bath at Grandma's house."
    "We're going to Grandma Felly's place?"
    "You betcha. She'll have your favorite comforter ready and heated for you."
    "Good. I need something that large for my 10.5 meter bust."
    Lyn looked surprized. "Ten point five meters? You're that big now?"
    Marsha hit Vinny's butt with a hard fist. "That's right, and I got it straight from this horse's mouth."
 

[Epilogue - two days later]

Marsha was taken to her Grandmother Felicity's house in the Flintrock Mountains. Her mother and father, along with her brother Trent, were in the house as well. She was settled in a special recliner in Felicity's living room. With her mighty bosom covered with a flower-decorated comforter, the plucky girl was getting answers to her questions. "Mom, what made you say to the Bigguns that they were under arrest? You're retired from the force."
    Grinning, Lyn patted the spot on her shirt where a police badge normally would be. "It was force of habit, Marsha, and it was true. I and June are actually still on the force, but we're on the 'inactive reserve'. Commissioner Laramie did that so our pensions could be adjusted for cost-of-living increases. Both June and I have to testify in court on what we saw in the Barn. It'll be worth it, though. I want to see those bastards sweat themselves to death when the jury hears the details of what happened to you and those girls."
    "How are Jasmine and the others? Have they been reunited with their families?"
    "They have, Marsha. Some of those girls have been missing for over 18 months. They were on their walkabouts like you when they encountered the Bigguns." Lyn made a frown. "Those Bigguns used their mind-control technique to turn those girls into carefree, walking jiggle bunnies. The psychologists are certain that the girls will suffer no lasting aftereffects from their ordeal. It's a good thing that you're immune to the Bigguns' mind control. God only knows how long you could've been out there with those fat jerks."
    "Ordeal is the right word." Marsha shook her chest slightly. Even with the comforter covering them, the breasts undulated briefly like thick jello. "I don't regret using that hypo. Saving my life and stopping Vinny is worth the inconvenience. But still, it'll take me 367 days to shrink back to normal. That's just nine days shy of a year."
    Paul, Marsha's father, placed a consoling hand on her daughter's arm. "You'll have plenty to do, dear. You can attend virtual college classes from here until you're small enough to walk unaided. Grandma will keep you company and help you exercise. I hate to see those pretty legs of yours turn into drumsticks."
    "Dad!"
    "Kidding, pumpkin."
    "Hey, Dad," said Trent, Marsha's 17-year-old brother, "since Marsha's too big to use her trike, can I use it?"
    "Don't ask me," said Paul. "Ask Marsha. It's her vehicle."
    Looking like a matriarch, Marsha stroked her chin in contemplation. "Well, it will be nine months before I'm small enough to fit in the driver's seat. I guess I can leave the trike in your care, Trent. But you'll pay for the recharges out of your own money, and heaven forbid that you should wreck it. Brother or no brother, I'll crush the breath out of you."
    "Thanks, Marsha." He gave his enlarged sister a hug. "Now I don't have to bug Mom to drop me off at school this fall."
    Lynnae lightly swatted Trent's bottom "Hey! Don't make it sound like I was some kind of ogre. Besides, you got good exercise riding your bike to school."
    "As long as it wasn't raining."
    Marsha snapped her fingers. "Hey! You haven't told how you found me. Did you find Snarl? For that matter, where is that adorable ratdog?"
    Lynnae held her daughter's hand. "Don't get your knickers in a knot, honey. Near the lake were you got your second hypo injection there was an access road. A Highway Patrol vehicle on that road found Snarl the morning after you released him. He apparently fought off some fangtooths, but was otherwise in good shape. Well, his subdermal id was intact, and the officers saw the vehicle ID number you carved in the collar."
    Paul stood next to his wife, his hand on her shoulder. "It was a stroke of good fortune that Vinny didn't disable the RV's ID transponder. After all, he was a 'law-abiding' citizen. And what law-abiding citizen would go driving around in a vehicle without its transponder?"
    "A man with more criminal smarts than Vinny," Marsha offered, "that's for sure."
    "You got that right. Anyway, a surveillance satellite was tasked to follow Vinny's RV. When it and the caravan it was in came to a stop at the Barn, the Highway Patrol arranged a raid. Your mom and June were 'invited' by the Patrol to participate. I think the Patrol wanted those two to 'soften up' the Bigguns before sending in their own men."
    Lyn harumphed. "Soften up? Heck, the worst place those Bigguns could've been was between me and my daughter."
    Marsha looked impatient. "Where's Snarl? He didn't get that badly chewed up, did he?"
    Paul turned to a doorway. "You'll get your answer in a moment. Felicity just returned from the vet... "
    "Snarl!" Marsha said enthusiastically. At the doorway was Felicity, her silver and grey hair drawn in a waist-length ponytail. She was carrying a little bundle of love named Snarl in her arms. The dog jumped out of Felly's hold when he saw his mistress. Lyn helped the dog up on Marsha's bust. Everyone looked on as Snarl licked Marsha's face like it was made of ice cream.
    "Okay, okay," Marsha implored. "I'm here, Snarl. You're a hero in my book."
    Looking rightfully proud, Felicity walked up to her precious granddaughter. "I knew you had the same qualities that all Wilcox women have. I'm curious to know if your experience with the Bigguns had influenced your decision."
    Marsha held Snarl close to her chest. She thought for a moment. "What the Bigguns did to me and the girls made me realize something. There will always be people who hold the law in contempt and mock those people who obey the law. I'm proud to admit that I'm a righteous woman who wants to protect people from scum like the Bigguns." She looked at her parents with a determined face. "I've decided to become a Commonwealth Marshal."
    "That's a noble goal, Marsha." Paul said. "But are you sure this is something you want? A marshal often deals with the worst criminal elements. Marshals also tend to be shot at on a frequent basis."
    "Dad, I'm sure. I want to do this."
    Lyn gave Marsha's hand a soft squeeze. "I thought my stories about my police experiences would discourage you. Let me say this, then. The decision you made will mean a hard life. Some criminals will hate you due to the badge you're wearing. Others will despise you because you're the daughter of famous police officers. Most wrongdoers will scorn you for your righteousness and virtue. There will be days where you'll ask yourself why you became a marshal. Most of the time, your efforts will be unknown to the public at large. Your satisfaction will come from the knowledge that your work ensured the peace and well-being of law-abiding citizens. In the end," Lyn's other hand reached up and gave Paul's offered palm a squeeze, "you will know it was worth it. You and Trent were our reward."
    "Thanks, Mom. I'll keep what you said to heart."
    "Well," said a smiling Felicity, "now with all of that said and done, it's time for Marsha to do her chores."
    "Chores? Grandma, what can I do?" Marsha gestured to her room-dominating breasts. "I very well can't dust the bookshelves and vacuum the rugs."
    "I know, dear. As long as you're in my house, you'll have to earn your keep. You can help me train my new litter of dachies. Specifically, train them on the finer points of sleeping on women's breasts."
    Marsha giggled. "I'm nothing more than huge set of pillows for puppies to sleep on?"
    "That's all you're good for, at least for a few months." Felicity chuckled as she brought in six absolutely adorable miniature dachshund puppies. She placed them with care on Marsha's comforter-covered breasts. "All these dachies are descended from Smudge and Pumpkin. They need to be taught that a woman's bust is a place of warmth and security. You can get the job done in a fraction of the time it would've taken me." Felicity patted her blouse-covered volleyball bust. "All and all it's an easy job."
    Marsha felt like a mother hen tending to her brood. She gave one puppy a rubdown, the cute critter arched its body in delight. "Yes, Grandma. I would rather do this for a whole year than spend one night as a Biggun's pillow woman." Marsha's good-natured laughter was joined by that of her family. She had to admit her walkabout achieved its purpose, though it came about in a very weird way indeed.
 
 

END

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Thanks to Shin of abpecoa for drawing the Marsha 'swimsuit' pic. :-) Thanks also for Gunbuster for his coloring work on the Marsha pic. :-)