"Oh thank you, sis!" Sheila said, giving her younger sister a hug.

 "Hey, no problem. I don't know what I was thinking. I should have tried it on at the store, knowing their return policy - or lack thereof! It's just too tight across the chest. For me, anyway. You were the first person I thought of - I thought you'd like it."

 "Thanks" Sheila said sarcastically, stinging from another remark about her breast - or lack thereof, as her sister would say. She took the nice little crop-top from her sister, and folded it up. Her sister was not inordinately busty, but she definitely posessed what was called 'a nice rack'. Sheila had heard the term many times, just never applied to herself. She was the only woman in her family that could be and was routinely called 'flat-chested'. Sheila did have breasts, but they were small. In fact, she had met her man Greg while Dave, one of Greg's best friends, was commenting on her sister's 'rack' as they passed by in a bar. Sheila's sister began to berate Dave about objectifying women, while Sheila and Greg, awkwardly thrown together, had struck up an unrelated conversation. The rest, they say, is history.
 
 Greg worked at an audio-visual studio, where his primary area of expertise was sound engineering. Typically, his day was filled with editing voice-overs, mastering tapes, and the occasional recording session. Every few months he might be called out on a road trip to run sound for one act or another. At the moment, however, his current paycheck came from the studio. The task at hand involved mastering subliminal message tapes.

 The tracks involved fairly anonymous sounding music of different styles that would have a voice over mixed in just below the threshold of hearing, compared to the music. The tapes covered a wide variety of modern-day maladies, including weight loss, quitting smoking, overcoming addictions, becoming a better salesperson, the power of positive thinking, and something that really piqued his interest; breast enlargement. Greg's job was to mix in the tracks of the hypnotic voice that repeated the appropriate messages just below the conscious level of perception. The task was easy enough, he merely set the music to a prescribed decibel level, and then notched the voice tracks down by a predetermined amount. After that, the mastering all but ran itself.

 Greg knew that Sheila had wanted to quit smoking, so he decided to make a copy of the master tape for her. Then he realized, however, that Sheila would never listen to the new-age music that the tapes were built upon. So, in his spare time, he brought in Sheila's favorite tapes from home. Being a sound expert, Greg had a top of the line CD player, and all of the other audio toys at home. But, cassettes were still the most popular music format at home, as he and Sheila often made "greatest hits" tapes. After listening to a CD a few times, they would copy only the songs they liked onto another tape, building up collections that might be based on a certain style or mood. Greg, trying to be helpful, had brought in some of these personal mix tapes to be enhanced with the subliminal quit-smoking messages.

 Greg first recorded the stereo left and right tracks onto a digital audio tape (DAT), since in the digital format, the sound quality would never degrade from being bounced down. He then mixed in the "quit smoking now" tracks, at a subliminal level, and recorded everything back to the original tape, so that Sheila would be none the wiser. After the first tape, Greg had thought about customizing the subliminal tracks. Sheila worried about gaining weight if she quit smoking, so perhaps the salient points of the weight loss message should be mixed in. He found portions of the repetitive, chanting message that dealt with "using your inner power to relocate body weight where you want it to be". Greg had often spliced together a cohesive sounding speech from the recording of some CEO who stuttered or hadn't rehearsed the delivery, but still demanded a clear recording to be copied onto motivational tapes or some other medium. Easy enough, he set about splicing together the best parts of the quitting smoking and losing weight messages. As Greg became bored with the tedious task, his mind wandered.

 Why not add some of the breast enlargement message?

 Who really knew if this stuff would work anyway? The advertising that would accompany the finished product claimed that the human mind could sort out subliminal messages and backwards masking and comprehend the messages contained within just as clearly as any conscious presentation. The brochures further stated that any mind open to the suggestions contained within would reap the benefits - guaranteed. As long as he was experimenting, Greg spliced together the central points from each message, he added the voices on both sides of the stereo spectrum, and increased the speed of the voice tracks, so the messages would be delivered faster and more often. On the last few tapes, he mixed in only the breast enlargement voice track, just below the conscious level of hearing, but trying everything. The speaker's mantra was mixed in forwards, backwards, left, right, center, and all at double and triple speeds.

 Sheila removed her feet from the stirrups, glad that her yearly check-up at the gynecologists was drawing to a close. Everything was fine, and the doctor gave her the O.K. to go on the pill. As her doctor scribbled a prescription and looked for a first month's sample, Sheila nervously posed a question to her doctor. "I've heard that hormone therapy can be used to increase breast size�" Sheila said, awkwardly trying to make her question sound nonchalant. Her doctor, who looked somewhat matronly, and might be the last person she expected to understand, was more than prepared for Sheila's inquiry.

 The good doctor explained that hormone therapy could only be used by prescription, and must involve a medical condition, such as menopause, or delayed onset of puberty. But, sometimes, simply going on the pill could have the desired effect, depending on the patient. "No guarantees", the doctor said, "You might only experience some swelling, or just a bit more fullness. Then again, maybe not even that, so don't expect any miracles". She continued, explaining "The pill removes the ups and downs of a woman's natural cycle by adding hormones to her system when they are normally lower. Simply put, the pill makes a woman's body believe that it is pregnant, and therefore prevents any pregnancy from happening. Also", the doctor said, "smoking and the pill don't mix. It increases the risk of many diseases. Would you like me to list them?"

 "No, thanks", Sheila replied "I'm quitting tomorrow - today, anyway."

 Sheila was glad to hear that there was at least the possibility of making her figure more womanly, in addition to not having to deal with that damn diaphragm any more. Greg and Sheila had a great love life, and Greg was far too much a gentlemen to ever pass a disparaging comment about her body, but she had seen his eyes. Occasionally, Sheila could catch him watching some girl with 'a nice rack' walking by. Knowing Greg's tastes in female anatomy, Sheila sometimes felt like her puberty was delayed, but she knew that she had probably developed as much as she was ever going to. What the hell, she had nothing to lose. She took the birth control prescription and headed home.

 By coincidence, Greg also had a meeting with a doctor - lunch with his high school buddy Dave. One thing that Dave and Greg had in common (besides an interest in large breasts) was their fascination with the latest technology, although in their respective fields. Their lunchtime conversation often centered around some new sound gizmo or some medical breakthrough. Today's topic, presented by Dave, involved a new discovery on the cellular level. "Some conditions are treated with doses of chemicals, but researches have found that often the subject's body may have enough of the chemical in question, but that the cells are not receptive to the chemical messages" Dave stated. "In other words, flooding a persons system with hormones will not necessarily work if the receptors are not active. Now the researchers have found ways of activating the receptors, making some chemical treatments more effective."

 "So, if I'm following, what you're saying is," Greg interjected "that speeding up a transmission to a computer does no good, unless the modem is fast enough to handle the higher transmission rate. And these new pills are like a modem upgrade. Right?"

 "Exactly" Dave replied.

 Greg and Dave walked up to Dave's office after lunch, still volleying enthusiastically. "So, primarily," Dave continued, "the pills will be used for patients who suffer from a delayed sexual maturation. Say for example, little Johnny is still too little for his age and relative size of his parents. Or little Suzy is having her sweet sixteen without beginning her cycles." At his desk, Dave held up two bottles of pills, taken from a case marked 'SAMPLES', and identified them as the cellular receptor activators. The pills had just been released for general testing on a limited basis, by prescription only, and Dave was pretty pleased to be one of the doctors chosen. "These pills enable the patients body to finally take full advantage of the hormones already present, rather than introducing more testosterone or estrogen and possible unwanted side effects. In just a few weeks, the patient's developmental system will awaken as it should have naturally a few years ago. They need only take the pills until they get the results that they want. As long as they use the pills, they should develop as their natural level of hormones dictates" Dave finished.

 As the lunch hour drew to a close, Dave shook hands with Greg and returned to the examination room, leaving his friend to let himself out. Greg looked in the case, noticing that the bottles were partitioned by label. All of them said "take with food", "water soluble" and featured the usual chemical jargon. On the left side, however, were the testosterone reception enhancers, and on the right...

 Greg had received free samples from Dave for a number of illnesses. That's what friends are for, aren't they? After a very brief wrestle with his conscience, Greg pocketed a bottle of the estrogen reception enhancers, and let himself out.

 Returning to the studio, Greg sorted through his phone messages, and found a call to go out on the road. One of his road manager friends was in a bind, and needed a sound engineer a.s.a.p. to finish the last week of a tour down the coast. The message also promised to make up for the short notice. Greg returned the call, confirmed the price, and with a smile, hung up the phone. He then canceled everything, grabbed his keys, jacket, and the tapes he had modified, and drove home to pack and break the news to Sheila.

 Greg knew that Sheila would, of course, be disappointed, but she knows that this is how Greg makes a living. In her heart, she would miss Greg, but intellectually, she knows the money would be great. While waiting for Sheila to come home, to make up for his impending departure, Greg cooked not only one, but two meals. He prepared chicken Alfredo, one of his and Sheila's favorites to share that night, and then made one of her favorites, his own spaghetti, to be refrigerated for her to enjoy while he was away. Still feeling guilty, Greg even made chocolate chip cookies, a double batch. Into everything that Sheila would eat, Greg dissolved the hormone reception activators.

 Right after dinner, Greg and Sheila made love, using the spontaneity-killing diaphragm for the last time. Sheila chose to keep her decision to try birth control pills as a surprise for Greg's return. Their lovemaking was characteristically passionate, with Greg giving plenty of attention to Sheila's breasts. Sheila's breasts were always sexually responsive, which made them a well matched couple, sexually speaking. The sexual response to Greg's attention made up for the lack of volume of her breasts. Sheila enjoyed having her breasts kissed, stroked and squeezed as much as Greg enjoyed doing it. Occasionally, Sheila would try to administer a tit-fuck, but she never really felt she had enough flesh to work with. She didn't actually have the kind of cleavage that allowed her breasts to touch each other. But they could get close enough to touch the sides of Greg's penis, if she tried. With Greg working in the entertainment field, silicone breasts were as common as slow traffic in rush hour, but neither Greg nor Sheila wanted to risk losing any sexual responsiveness with the surgery. Greg had dated a woman once with breast implants, but she was either almost numb or otherwise annoyed by any breast play. The lack of response killed the joy of sex for Greg, and helped him to realize that, behind the sex, there wasn't a relationship. After Sheila and Greg gained plenty of satisfaction from Sheila's unassuming breasts, Greg finished packing and called a taxi to take him to the airport.

 The next morning, after waking up alone, Sheila slid into her usual routine, adding, of course, one new step - taking a birth control pill. On the way out the door to her administrative assistant position, she grabbed a few tapes to listen to while drove and when she was doing data entry, and a couple more for the gym. She also threw away the pack of cigarettes she had in her purse.

 Another surprise she wanted for Greg's return was the elimination of smoking from her life. Greg's absence might be a blessing in disguise. If she was going to be bitchy and crabby going through withdrawal, she'd rather not have Greg around. One of her co-workers had recommended hypnotherapy, and Sheila was willing to try. Fortunately, upon calling, the receptionist informed her that she could come in for the 5:00 slot, right after work. In the meantime, she plugged a tape into her walkman and typed away, not realizing the subconscious and cellular forces that were starting to work on her understated bosom.

 The appointment went well. Sheila was both open minded and determined to quit smoking, and passed the preliminary hypnosis testing with flying colors. The hypnotherapist told her "You are one of the best subjects I've ever had. I'd almost bet that if you believed you could fly, you just might!" Again, as at the gynecologists office, Sheila brought up the subject of breast enlargement. She received the same speech about "results varying", but the hypnotherapist at least guaranteed some results. The therapist explained the tactics. "The subconscious mind will be taken back to when you were developing..."

 "Or supposed to be developing!" Sheila interrupted

 "... and the subconscious is powerful enough to influence your physical being to return to that state as well, if only temporarily. The state," the therapist explained, "can be revisited for hours, days or even weeks". Naturally, more sessions would be needed to ensure that her subconscious was returning to the desired state. Although she was on the pill now, and hoping to fill out a sweater better before Greg returned, Sheila again determined that she had nothing to lose. The hypnotherapist penciled in her next bi-weekly appointment as tomorrow at five, with the scribbled legend "quit smoke/BE".

 Off to the gym, to burn off some calories in expectation of devouring the cookies that Greg had left for her. Sheila enjoyed another two tapes on her walkman while feeling the burn.

 Only twenty four hours after Greg left, she returned home for a shower. While soaping up, she found her breasts were a little tender, and a bit puffy around the nipples. Sheila quickly attributed the tenderness to all that moving around without wearing a sports bra. At her size, why bother?

 She finished out her evening with a little reading, a handful of cookies, and some light music, trying to avoid thinking of smoking.

 The next morning, Sheila started her routine again, taking the pill first thing. She grabbed a few new tapes and headed to work.

 After work, she went to her first in-depth hypnotherapy session. At the end of the session, she felt no nicotine cravings, but felt flushed on her chest. Impressed, even at this early stage of the therapy, she set another appointment, paid and left.

 The rest of Sheila's workday had a wave like pattern. She would put on her headphones and tend to her busywork. After 10 minutes or so, the flushed feeling would return to her chest. This distracted her, and she would remove the headphones and head to the ladies room. She would retire to a private stall, and feel her chest. Her breasts were warm, and tender to the touch. Sheila was, however, too self-conscious to disrobe at the workplace, even within the privacy of the stall, so she didn't see the extent of the changes that were taking place. Sheila only knew that she was feeling something. She didn't realize the extra push Greg's doctored tapes were giving her subconscious. Sheila was also just as clueless about the reaction between the extra hormones she was ingesting and her enhanced receptors. By some twist of fate, all of these forces had aligned to grant her and Greg their wish regarding Sheila's breasts. After a few minutes away from the subliminal messages, her chest seemed to cool down a bit. She then returned to her desk and her tapes, unknowingly starting another wave.

 One thing Sheila did know, was that her breasts felt heavy. She hadn't thought they would be this weighty, but she also didn't think they would get so large so fast. She arrived home, and got the first good look at her developing bustline. Even through the cable knit sweater, a difference was visible. As she pulled the sweater over her head, the wool dragged across her puffy nipples. Not because she was braless, but because her breasts were barely contained by the B cups. This bra's cups had once been loose. Sheila was not sure what was more effective - the pill or the hypnosis, as she thought - but she was blown away by the results. She spent some time examining her new endowments, and wondered how far this might go. She might even get to a D-cup, she thought hopefully.

 She found a stretchy bra that she was going to wear tomorrow, and then realized she may need it now. She was not used to carrying the extra weight on her chest, and the new movement of her breasts was somewhat distracting. Also, Sheila thought that she should care for the breasts that she waited so long to have. It's one thing to have big boobs at a young age, and have them sag as you mature. Sheila was lucky enough to begin acquiring the breasts of a busty teenager while already in her late twenties. She cleaned the house, treating herself to some of Greg's cookies, realizing that her newly developed breasts deserved better than old overstretched B-cup support. She made a mental note to buy some new bras after work tomorrow.

 Sheila's routine was broken a bit the next day. She had woken up a bit late, and in her rush had forgotten to bring any tapes to work. She managed to remember to take the pill, and was proud of herself for it. Work was rather dull without her tapes to listen to. She thought she might have a smoking relapse in her boredom, but the hypnotherapy must be paying off. On the way home, she stopped at the mall and bought two new bras, one functional and one sexy, both C's.

 As Sheila walked in the door, the phone began to ring. As she hoped, it was Greg.

 "Hey honey, how are you?" Greg began.

 "I'm doing good, but I miss you very much." Sheila replied, "But I have been working on a few things to keep myself busy, and try to forget that you're not here."

 "Honey, you know I'll be home soon. Late tomorrow night, in fact. Well, let's call it early Saturday morning. What have you been working on?"

 "Well," Sheila said, drawing the word out to buy some decision making time, "I've quit smoking." She decided to stop at that.

 "That's great! Congratulations! I know it's tough, honey. If there's anything I can do to help, let me know." Pleasantly surprised that the subliminal tapes appeared to work, Greg pondered how to steer the conversation towards Sheila's breasts, to see if any progress may have been made with the breast enlargement mantras. Confounded, he continued on as naturally as he could. "What else are you working on?"

 "A couple of things. I'll keep them a surprise."

 "Any hints?"

 "No. I'm sure you should be able to see what I've done when you get home." Sheila's response was natural enough that it didn't sound like the double entendre that it most certainly was. She moved her arms together slightly and felt her breasts with the insides of her arms, and then she gasped when she felt her breasts touch each other.

 "Honey, are you O.K.?"

 Thinking quickly, Sheila responded "Just a little problem with a 'secret project' that needs immediate attention. Listen, I love you honey, and I can't wait for you to come home."

 "I love you too. I'll let you go and see you in a couple of days."

 Sheila hung up the phone. She slowly moved her arms together, and just as slowly felt the smooth heaviness of one breast meet the luscious fullness of the other. Moving to the bedroom, she pulled off the over-sized sweatshirt she wore to work to conceal her uncovered nipples. Looking down, she had a different view than she'd seen for the past 10 years or so. These new, wonderful breasts, with their taut, white skin almost touched each other without help. Sheila cupped them both, and they felt tender and sore, as her previously smallish breasts had when they first made their appearance in junior high. Her breasts were easily more than a handful each, even for Greg.  Open palmed, Sheila had no hope of containing her mammaries within her grasp. She could still squeeze them, and was rewarded with a unique blend of soreness and warmth. Had she looked closely, she might have noticed that barely a drop of white fluid appeared at the center of each of her rose pink nipples.

 Trying on the functional bra she purchased - dinner before dessert, she was told as a child - she realized something was wrong. She checked the label, confirmed that it read C, and put it on again. The band fit great, but try as she might, the straps were not long enough, and the cups only reached the bottom of her aureole. She put the plain white bra aside and reached for the push-up model, double-checking for the C on the tag. Boosting her increased bust, the effect was absolutely obscene. The bra was obviously too small, and too uncomfortable to fight with. Her breasts were too firm to let the tops of the cups dig in. Sheila grabbed the packaging and receipt and returned to the store for a proper fitting.
 

 "D?!" was Sheila's shocked reply.

 "On the full side, in fact. You may want a double D for your time, if you tend to bloat." the fitter said, nonchalantly.

 With a smile that wouldn't quit, Sheila pulled out the plastic, and bought two each of the D's and the DD's. As before, one model in each size would be functional, the other sexy.

 Elated, she returned home, and mentally prepared for the next day. Sheila finished off the last of the double batch of chocolate chip cookies while checking her calendar for the time of tomorrow's hypnotherapy appointment, planning to thank the therapist, and ask her to discontinue the breast enlargement. Well, maybe a little more, she thought. She already had two DD bras waiting to be filled, and Greg would certainly never complain. Also, after years of longing for larger breasts, why quit just because you're ahead? Sheila threw on some relaxing music and fell into bed, amazed at the weight she felt on her chest. As she lay on her back, she could feel her breasts spread out to touch her arms. She squeezed her arms together, and felt the softness of her cleavage forming. Cleavage, honest to goodness cleavage! No miracle bra, just her. She leaned up, and the heaviness shifted down her abdomen. Sheila knew her braless days were over.

 The next day, Sheila donned one of her new D cup brassieres before covering her torso with another bulky sweater. She felt that she should slowly introduce her bustier form at work. The workplace was no place to try to showoff anyway, and the weather provided reason enough to dress so unprovocatively. Sheila headed to work, preoccupied enough with her new breasts to forget about her birth control.

 Sheila found herself riding the same waves she had two days ago, and wondered if the hypnotherapy had anything to do with her strange feelings. By the time she had made it to her hypnotherapy appointment, between her bulky sweater and her modesty at work, Sheila still hadn't really seen that she was more than ready to use her DD bra. She discussed the results so far, as she perceived them, with the therapist. She had had no cravings for cigarettes, and she swollen up to a D cup, but she attributed some of her growth to the pills. The therapist recalled that Sheila was one of the best candidates for hypnotherapeutic success to come into her office in along time, and suggested that except for a possible relapse with smoking, that they needn't continue. Sheila still believed that one more little push, just one more cup size would be fine. The therapist consented, and once she had Sheila relaxed and under a trance, she laid in the suggestions to her subconscious to initiate one more growth spurt. Based on the results that Sheila had related, she planted the suggestion to remain in the devopmental state for only another 24 hours.

 Sheila headed home to prepare for Greg's return. Greg wouldn't be in until almost four that morning, so there was little point in trying to stay awake, but Sheila would at least dress for the occasion. She mistakenly put on the DD push-up bra. Sheila never questioned the dimension, since it fit perfectly. Sheila hadn't spent enough time at any one size over the past few days to know the difference. The one thing she was certain about was that her breasts were bigger. Not just bigger, but HUGE! She mistakenly attributed the more immense appearance of her bustline to the push-up bra, not to any increase in girth. Fully supported, Sheila was relieved of the new added weight of her breasts. Eventually, nighttime came, and she went to sleep.

 Around four that morning, Greg entered their bedroom, using only the light from the bathroom as a guide. Sheila stirred. "Hi honey", she started softly, "I'm glad you're home"

 "I'm glad to be back, baby" Greg replied, walking around to her side of the bed to give her a kiss. Sheila held the sheet up to her neck, and sat up to meet his lips.

 "I hope your not too tired, if you know what I'm saying" Sheila intoned playfully.

 Greg smiled. And started to reply "Well�"

 Sheila had inched the sheet down off the shelf of her bosom, and looked up at Greg, waiting. She saw Greg squint in the dim light, and take a step back.

 Greg's draw dropped open, and in few seconds, though Sheila could not see it, he actually drooled. Despite his inability to speak, his mind was racing. The tapes did work. Or was it the hormone reception enhancers? He could explain it, but would Sheila be angry? Where should he start?

 Sheila interrupted his thoughts. "I told you I had a couple of surprises!"

 Stammering, Greg said "I-I-I've got t-t-to s-s-say�"

 "No, I'll do the talking, you do the touching." Sheila butted in. "I've already had some time to get used to these. It must be quite a shock to you, honey."

 Shocked was putting it mildly, Greg thought. Sheila pulled the sheet away, and grabbed Greg's hands, placing them palms down on the exposed tops of her breasts.

 "When I was at the hypnotherapist's," Sheila began "I asked for a little secondary therapy along with the anti-smoking stuff." Greg decided immediately not to tell her about the tapes. Now he was not at all sure what had been at work on Sheila's breasts while he was away. He didn't want to shake her faith in the hypnotherapy, as it might undo her cigarrette habit-kicking progress. He vowed to get rid of the tapes first thing tomorrow, though. He loved big breasts, no doubt, but he could see that Sheila would already need most of a new wardrobe. If she grew anymore, judging by the stressed look of the bra she was wearing, she would need to have her bras custom made.

 Almost on cue with his thoughts, she reached behind her back, thrusting her new DD's into his face while she undid the hooks. She pulled the bra out from under her breasts, revealing nipples that Greg had never seen before. Simply put, they were the same sweet, rose pink nipples he had nuzzled all these years, but they were now further apart, and noticeably larger. Sheila pulled Greg's head down to her cleavage. Cleavage! Honest to goodness cleavage! Greg's thoughts echoed Sheila's from only days before.

 He placed one side of his face against her left breast, now almost the size of his head. He moved his skin slowly across the surface, feeling her nipple firming, pushing into his cheek. He circled gently a few times, stopping with his mouth near the protruding nipple. He paused, then exhaled hotly across the aureole, lips just touching the nipple. Sheila knew and loved everyone of Greg's techniques, and her breasts had not lost any of their sexual responsiveness through their extraordinary expansion.
 
 He closed his lips around the aureole, and slowly circled with his tongue, moving his right hand up to caress Sheila's right breast. He removed his lips from their sweet prize, and starting kissing the base of her left breast, making a complete circle around the outer reaches. The laptime used to be much shorter, but was never enjoyed by either of them as much as on this night. Greg continued, working his way inward, exploring every inch of this new vastness on Sheila's chest. Eventually, he reached the nipple, and spent minutes feeling every texture with his tongue and lips.

 Before moving to the right breast, he raised his head to share a deep kiss with Sheila, and then dropped into her cleavage again. Greg placed his nose into the cleft of white flesh, and used his hands to press both of Sheila's mammaries against the sides of his face, covering his ears.

 After a few moments in heaven, he continued with Sheila's right breast, this time using his left hand to feel that Sheila was more than ready to go all the way.

 "Wait just a second, honey" Sheila said, and Greg fully expected her to head to the bathroom to get he diaphragm. The one second she asked for, it turns out, she used to stand Greg up, pull his pants down, kneel before him, oil her breasts and finally engulf his penis in the deepest, fullest, heaven he ever felt while standing up. After only a few moments of this exquisite torture, Greg was already fighting not to cum. Neither he nor Sheila wanted to rush.

 Sensing the rising tide, she released him from her slick softness. She stood up, and pulled his shirt over his head, and he quickly helped with the rest. That taken care of, she stepped out of her panties, and used her luscious endowments to push Greg down onto the bed.

 "Um, honey�.Aren't you forgetting something?" Greg asked.

 "I've got another surprise - I went on the pill! No more diaphragm!" Sheila exclaimed.

 "The pill, as in estrogen and all that?" Greg replied

 "That's the stuff! It may have helped with these." Sheila said, moving her elbows together slightly, deepening her cleavage, and forcing her glistening nipples closer to Greg.

 Hypnotherapy, subliminal tapes, hormone receptors, and now more hormones searching for those receptors, Greg recounted. No wonder Sheila had ballooned to such proportions in such a short time! If she only knew! Although he was sorry he wasn't around to watch it happening, he knew he must check the kitchen for any more of the food he had prepared, before Sheila should mix it into her hormone laden system, resulting in who knew what. But now he had more important matters at hand.

 Sheila sat astride Greg, allowing him to feel her breasts press against his chest, filling the space between them, as he penetrated her. And so it went�

 With the sun rising, and Greg drifting off to sleep, she went into the kitchen to make some lunch. She hadn't dug into the spaghetti Greg left, and she was looking for something quick. She popped it in the microwave and remembered with a start that she had forgotten to take the pill yesterday and this morning. She recalled the doctor's advice that if she should skip a day, to simply double up the next day. She took two pills and sat down in front of her plate of spaghetti. She wolfed down her breakfast and then returned to the bedroom to rejoin Greg, already asleep.

 She managed to get to sleep, barely. She had just begun to dream. She had seen herself, but her face was blurry. The Sheila that she saw was giving orders to her, Sheila the dreamer. Despite the lack of a face, with the inexplicability of all dreams, she knew the woman giving the orders was herself. Sheila the dreamer was powerless to do anything but what Sheila the instructor was telling her to do. Sheila the dreamer was shoveling in holes, pouring pitchers of liquid into glasses, filling gas tanks, pumping water, always working. And there were always more voids to be filled. The voice of Sheila the talker would change from time to time, but Sheila knew it was herself. She awoke with a start, bathed in sweat. She was starving, even though she had just eaten, and she was having trouble breathing, but these feelings were superseded by the pain in her chest. Looking down, she could see her nipples and aureole were swollen and reddened, and a bit further away than when she has last seen them. Her breasts were hot, painful to the touch. They were also heavier and larger than when she had laid down.

 And they appeared to be getting larger still.

 She stared speechless, not sure if her eyes were playing tricks on her. She watched long enough to realize that her left breast was slowly distending outward while becoming fuller on the bottomside, almost obscuring a birthmark two inches from her belly button. "Greg", she said lightly, not wanting to disturb his well deserved sleep, but not knowing what else to do, at the moment. She waited patiently for a response. "Greg" she said, rubbing his shoulder. He stirred slightly, but did not wake. Sheila held her breath and looked down at her slowly swelling mammaries.

 The birthmark was no where to be seen.

 She jumped out of bed, fighting to balance the unfamiliar mass of her enlarging chest. The skin of her breasts was almost hot to the touch, and beginning to tighten up as all of the subconscious and cellular forces she and Greg had unknowingly unleashed worked towards a peak. She headed to the bathroom, but stopped dead at the full length mirror on the back of the door.

 Sheila stood before herself, in awe at the size that her breasts had attained in just a few days. She reached under her breasts to heft their weight, and watched as her arms tensed and her hands disappeared. Her breasts were simply enormous. Her breasts overwhelmed her tiny frame. Her breasts were as full and as firm as any teenager's, even at her advanced size.

Her breasts were still growing.

 Sheila remained still, watching for a few minutes as the continuing progress of the underside of her over-sized bosom passed her navel, heading for the waistband of her panties. Her nipples, riding the outer reaches of her expanding bustline, moved a few inches closer to the mirror, and a few inches further away from Sheila's ribcage. With the passing minutes, she became hungrier, as her developmental system depleted the rest of her body of it's calories in order to build her breasts. She now gathered up her armload of breasts and headed to the kitchen, ravenous with hunger.

 Though the concoctions Greg had created had all been consumed, the hypnotherapy and hormonal forces had yet to run their course. She began eating everything in sight, trying to ignore the pain inside her bloated breasts. She grabbed open bags of chips off the counter tops, pushing handfuls into her mouth. When the chips were gone, she couldn't get the candy bar's wrappers off fast enough.  Her mammaries continued to expand, feeding off the fuel almost as fast as Sheila could ingest it. She began to sweat again, either from her overdriven endocrine system, or from the sheer effort expended in eating.  The skin of her breasts began to tighten again, a sign that Sheila might be in a race that she could not win. She drank a gallon of spring water, in between helpings of day-old bagels and bananas. When the water entered her system, she could feel the tightness in her breasts relax, but they continued to grow outward, downward, and increase their weight. Each time she thought her stomach could hold no more, within minutes her hot-rodded metabolism made use of the calories and demanded replacements.

 In the meantime, her outsized mammaries demanded support. Sheila no longer had the strength to lean forward without leaning on something. Her bloated breasts slapping into her arms and into one another, she dragged a barstool in front of the refrigerator and attempted to rest her relentless growth upon it. She should have known that one swelling breast would roll off, pitching Sheila to that side. Futilely trying to cradle both swelling boobs with one arm, Sheila clumsily pulled a second stool to the first, and used both arms to heave each breast onto a stool. She continued her feeding frenzy, covering the tops of her overgrown breasts with the juice of half-chewed pears and apples.

 The chilled air from the refrigerator helped to cool her skin, while causing her nipples to distend even further. Her growth exceeded the capacity of the stools, and her breasts continued flowing over the tops and down into the refrigerator. When her nipples made contact with the cold glass surface of the cans and bottles in front of her, Sheila realized she was faced with another problem. Soon, she may not be able to reach over her breasts to get at the food at the back of the refrigerator. She pulled the stools out slowly, and was shocked by the sound and feel of her breasts against the tops of her thighs. As she looked down the slopes of her bosom , Sheila was stunned by the mammoth proportion of her continuing development. If she could find clothes that would fit her, she might be mistaken for two pregnant women sharing the same shirt. Each breast, with the exception of her nipples, looked like it could be the stomach of a woman carrying a child to term. And, as fast as her breasts were expanding, the skin was almost as taut as a pregnant belly.

 Almost as soon as she stopped to take stock in her increasingly desperate situation, the hunger pangs returned. She reached both arms straight down and was just able to feel the undersides of her breasts, she kneeled down and lowered them as gently as she could on top of her thighs. With breasts this size and firmness, Sheila found, you always had cleavage. She was unprepared for the heaviness she felt on top of her legs. She examined her breasts, still eating, and saw that her nipples were growing too, but not keeping pace with the amazing volume increase.

 As the see-saw of consumption and expansion continued, there were moments where she was sure her breasts would eventually burst. Their tightness reminded her of a doctor checking her blood pressure, except that the inflatable armband had somehow found it's way around her breasts. She could see new veins under the skin of her bloated boobs, but her nipples and aureole, ever further away, were still their usual pink, except when flushed with another aching wave of growth.

  She leaned down onto her own breasts in front of the refrigerator, and they ballooned out to her sides and into each other. They were still too firm to be able to comfortably spread them apart. If she had not been so preoccupied, she may have noticed the few drops of milk that appeared on her nipples as she applied her weight to her ever-expanding mammaries. She reached over them for whatever she could find on the bottom shelves, her jaws growing tired with the effort of so much eating.

 She cleared out the bottom shelf fast enough, leaving the 12 pack of beer, hoping to find something more substantial. She tried to open the vegetable crisper drawer, but, of course, her own relentless growth prevented her. She returned to the beer, and was almost unable to reach the edge of the box. Sheila pushed forward onto her monumental mammaries, squeezing a few more dribbles of milk out of her engorged nipples, and just caught the 12 pack with her index finger, and pulled it forward.

 Her breasts had grown unchecked, and they had reached such an ungainly size that in her state of near starvation she was unable to stand up under their massive weight, but they now protruded outward enough, and had become too firm and tight allow her to kneel comfortably. She didn't dare lie down, for fear of her own massive breasts pinning her to the floor, unable to reach more food. She kneeled on the nearest chair, which she dragged over with her foot, her ridiculous endowments now resting on the floor. From here she could still reach the door of the refrigerator, but her chances of getting to the pantry, unlike her breasts, were rapidly becoming smaller. She grabbed the beer, dismounted from the chair, and leaning over, pushed the fullest parts of her mammaries across the floor with her legs and feet. First her behemoth left breast moved forward a foot, then her equally ponderous right. In this manner, after a few moments, she positioned herself for what she hoped would be the last of her breast expansion.

 She knew enough to stand sideways in front of the pantry, with her back to the sink to prevent any further growth from blocking the fuel her body was crying for. She twisted her self to turn on the faucet and grasped the hose she used to wash dishes with. With her other hand, she fumbled in a drawer for a can opener. The only way she could reach the electric model was operate it behind her back. Under the circumstances, she felt better with the manual model. She began to open cans of whatever she could reach. She dumped the contents into her mouth, oblivious to taste and texture. Sheila was only looking for momentary relief from the raging hunger. With each mouthful she swallowed, the burning pain in her stomach subsided, only to be replaced with pressure in her breasts. The tremendous pressure in her breasts, however, was easily more bearable than the searing hunger. Now, she had a new supply of food and water, and would try to keep up as long as she could. This was the last rational thought Sheila had. Her subconscious had taken over, and her entire being had become focused on building her breasts. She started eating what she found on the lowest shelf she could reach, clearing it out just as the size of her non-stop development lifted the rest of her body into a more upright position, and within reach of the next shelf. She alternated with long, gallon sized drags of water from the faucet hose, as the skin on her breasts became drum tight with the mass of flesh developing within.

 Eventually, standing fully upright, the pantry almost empty, Sheila robotically reached for whatever was on the top shelf. All that was left was the liquor she found and the beer she had saved from earlier. Exhausted, she opened all the bottles and began to drink, giving her uncontrolled developmental system one last dose of calories. After downing all of the beer and liquor, Sheila finally passed out from a combination of exhaustion and drunkenness, her fall prevented by the bed of breasts that extended before her, too bloated to part. Her tired body fell forward, her cleavage deepened around her as her giant breasts continued swelling on the strength of Sheila's last ditch effort to satisfy her hunger. Her nipples, which Sheila had ceased to be able to reach just under an hour ago, began to release a trickle of milk in response to the pressure of her body, as well as their own weight.
 

 Greg awoke, alone in the bedroom, and listened for activity elsewhere in the house. He figured Sheila must have left to run some errands. Run! It might take some work for Sheila to get used to running again, he thought, with a mile-wide smile. Those breasts! What an absolutely amazing size she had become, Greg mused. He reminisced briefly about last night's unbelievable turn of events, and noted that he had slept past noon. Tapes, cookies and spaghetti - they all must be gotten rid of, if he could find them.

 He pulled on a pair of pants, and headed to the kitchen.
 

 The scene that greeted Greg was unbelievable. At the one entrance to the kitchen, Greg was greeted by an enormous nipple, chest high, slowly emitting single drops of milk into the puddle beneath at regular intervals like a leaky faucet. The huge nipple was attached to breast so vast that the doorway was blocked, and over the expanse of pale white flesh, only the top of Sheila's head could be seen.

 In shock, he ran around to the other entrance to the kitchen.

 He found Sheila laying motionless, leaning into her breasts, now grown so vast that her toes barely touched the ground. The tops of her breasts, Sheila's face and every inch of exposed floor covered in the debris of the entire edible content of their kitchen. Empty bags, bottles, boxes and cans were strewn everywhere. He slowly edged closer to the twin mounds of Sheila's breasts that filled the room. On the pantry side, passage was blocked completely by her overgrown right breast, and her equally ludicrous left breast had pushed the kitchen table and chairs off to one side, extending into the open refrigerator. Greg scrambled over the table, and approached Sheila from behind. It was the only way he would be able to get to her face, without climbing onto the expanse of her breasts.

 "Sheila!", Greg called, shaking her shoulder.  No response, but up close, he could see the steady rise and fall of her back. She was breathing, at least. He looked over her shoulder at the sight that Sheila had been too busy to appreciate in her most recent conscious moments. The cleavage extended just over a yard from her shoulders before the curves of her monstrous breasts began to part, running another few feet towards her aureole.

 He returned to the hallway, and faced the business end of Sheila's extraordinary breast. He wanted to roll her breasts back to allow Sheila's feet to reach the floor, and maybe sit in a chair, if that was possible. He touched the massive mammary gland tentatively, feeling it's incredible weight and texture. He braced himself, and pushed on either side of the nipple. As the behemoth mound of flesh rolled back slowly, Greg felt a warm spray on his chest. He looked down to see Sheila's nipple expressing milk as he pushed, adding to the puddle already on the floor. He looked up to see that Sheila's head had lowered slightly.

 Next, he returned to the kitchen, and tried to wedge himself into the refrigerator to exert the same leverage on her left breast. He almost slipped on another puddle of milk while pulling out the bent, empty shelves. The shelves were bent into the shape of the underside of the breast as it expanded into the refrigerator. Greg eventually had to stand outside the refrigerator and pull at the top of the breast, hearing the tiny splash of the spraying milk on the plastic back wall. The milk already on the floor helped the mammoth mammary to slide out a bit.

 After switching back and forth a few times, Greg was soaked with sweat and breast milk, sitting in a chair holding Sheila in his arms, almost under her gargantuan endowments. As he held a cold cloth to her forehead in the shadow of her unbelieveable bosom, wondering what to do, he could just make out that Sheila was trying to talk.

 Greg listened hard and made out the she was repeating something over and over, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, but always the same monologue. He recognised it as the script from the subliminal breast enlargement tapes.