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.

[Prologue]

The Flintrock Mountains were located on the planet Outback. Specifically, the mountains were in the northern latitudes of the continent of Sydney. The weather for this mountain region was pleasant enough during the spring and summer. It was during fall that the worst weather occurred. On any given October day people could wake up to find a clear sky waiting for them. Yet three hours later a blizzard would roll in and leave people stranded for days. With 25th century technology even house-covering storms were nothing more than nuisances. The infamous force fields and 'heat' rays from centuries-old science fiction literature made living in such an environment practical. Even with that in mind, only the most hardy of Ockers lived in the Flintrock Mountains year-round. For these people, the almost-daily storms of fall were an accepted fact of life.
    Felicity Wilcox had her home in the Flintrock Mountains. She endured the fourteen weeks of atrocious fall weather with panache. Her home was a huge bastion against the elements, and she was never in want of company. During a weekend October storm, the gracefully-aged woman had six guests in her house. Besides her pair of cute dachshunds, Felicity had the company of her two adorable great-grandchildren, Marsha and Trent Jarvis. Though aged 19 and 17 respectively, the two children of Lynnae and Paul Jarvis didn't mind being called adorable, so long as it wasn't in public. Teenage egos are so easily bruised. Trent was staying over the weekend. Marsha, still 'recovering' from her experience with the Bigguns four months earlier, was waiting patiently for her bust to return to normal. Her bust was smaller now, though it measured an eye-popping 750 centimeters. That was a big improvement from her initial size of 1050 centimeters. Each day brought her closer and closer to her normal measure of 117 centimeters, but the current level of nanite reduction could only do so much. Marsha had to wait 253 more days. Only then could she wear her favorite Mr Frumpy T-shirt without fear of ripping it apart. Thankfully, only a handful of people considered a 117 cm bust to be 'oversized'.
    The great-grandkids were in the living room, watching a show on a large wall-mounted flat panel screen. Joining them was Lieutenant (sg) David Carson and his wife Kayla. Fresh from putting their five-year-old daughter Teresa to bed, the Carsons settled down on a couch. Cradled in Kayla's arms was two-month-old Trevor, the couple's second child. Earlier, Kayla joked that she should have a child every time David got a promotion. In reply, David mused that to get promoted faster, he and Kayla should make babies much more often. Going by that system of math, the rank of rear admiral by the age of 40 was entirely feasible. Even if that were never to be the case, Kayla was more than willing to make a large family with her David.
    Felicity glided into the living room with her two dachies at her feet. She carried a full tray of seedcone cookies. Freshly baked, the cookies made the two walking stomachs hungry. Everyone else in the room got hungry as well when they smelled the delightful aroma that permeated the air. Felly smiled her patented grandma smile. "One doesn't need to be a wizard to know what everyone in this room wants," she said generously. One by one, she handed out the cookies to her guests. Baby Trevor couldn't eat cookies yet, and he didn't need one. Trevor was taking his fill of milk from his mother's Angelican-sized breasts. The cookie meant for him went to one of the dachies instead. Felly quickly gave her other pet a treat. Thus, both dogs had their cookie pangs sated.
    "Thanks, Grandma," said Marsha from her spot on the floor. With huge pillows propping her up, the seated girl had a clear view of the screen past her enlarged endowments. "These cookies are yummy."
    "I agree." David had already eaten his cookies. "These are the best seedcone cookies I've inhaled in years."
    Kayla pinched David's left earlobe. "You could've tasted them first before wolfing them down."
    Still smiling, Felly raised a hand for silence. "Kayla, my dear, I've known David since he was born. He always consumed cookies and treats like they were about to be stolen by the family dog. You know how dachshunds can be with their pitiful little eyes." The two little dogs in the room tried their pouting eyes on Felly. Yet there were no cookies left, not even crumbs. Even showing the empty tray didn't deter the ratdogs from trying.
    With some reluctance, Trent tore his gaze from the wall screen. "Your cookies are the best, Grandma, and your collection of police footage is excellent. I doubt Mom has this much stuff in her library."
    Felly sighed as she pulled up a chair and sat next to Trent. "Your mother Lynnae has everything I have in my library. She even has this episode of Badge of Bronze. Filmed in 2413, as I recall. But," her face made a smile, "I have some footage that was edited from the episode before it was aired." A moment's work with a minicomp brought up a menu on the wall screen. "The producer was told not to air certain footage. In return, he wasn't sued for his 'inappropriate' behavior."
    Marsha turned to Felly. "Wow. Just what happened?"
    "If you'll give me a second, I'll show all of you what really happened in New Darwin on Halloween, 34 years ago. Plus I'll fill in some of the off-screen details." The wall screen flickered momentarily, then the complete footage of the Badge of Bronze episode was shown.
 

1

The Outback Broadcasting Network (OBN) was a commercial broadcast network on Outback. Forever in competition with its rivals for ratings, which in turn attracts sponsors, OBN resurrected an old but proven show format. Recording the actions of police officers on patrol was still interesting for the typical home viewer. With camera crews in all the big cities on Outback and other Commonwealth planets, this new show, Badge of Bronze, quickly gained an audience.
    The OBN producer for Badge of Bronze selected two field cam-ops (camera operators) for an assignment in New Darwin. Late October for the capital city of Outback was a good period for filming Bronze episodes. Edward Howes and Wilma Langtree were selected to go to Central Station. Upon arrival, the duo was sent to Captain Laramie's office. Sitting behind a work-covered desk, Laramie stopped her toil for a few moments. She looked at her two guests with a haggard expression.
    "Pardon my rudeness, but I'm literally up to my elbows in paperwork. You should've been sent to Lt Dawson instead. However, I have two pairs of officers that'll suit your filming purposes just fine." Laramie wrote something down on a sheet of note paper. She handed the paper to Howes. "Go to the assignment desk on the first floor. I'll call ahead to inform of your arrival. Hope you get some good film out of this."
    "Thank you, Captain," said Howes. The dark-haired man and his fair-skinned companion left the office and headed for the first floor. Upon arrival, the duo almost did a double-take when they saw the officer manning the assignment desk. She was a small woman, easily under 150cm in height. The uniform she wore was perfect and crisp, her badge shined and glinted in the light. Quick on his feet, Howes glanced down at the name plate on the desk. "Hello, Officer MacRoy. I'm Edward Howes. Captain Laramie called ahead regarding me and my friend here, Wilma Langtree."
    "Pleased to meet you," said MacRoy. "Now, which officers did Laramie have in mind for you two?" Howes handed the paper that Laramie gave him to the short officer. Giving the paper a glance, MacRoy then spoke into a small microphone. "The officers will be here shortly. I assume you've heard of the officers in question before?"
    "Only what's been broadcasted," said Langtree. "Are they really that . . . Um . . . you know?"
    "Exceptional?" MacRoy offered. "Yes. I guess you could say that." She pointed at something behind Howes. "You can see for yourselves right now."
    Howes and Langtree turned to the approaching officers. Seeing newsworthy cops on the tri-dee was altogether different from witnessing them close up. The short one with platinum blond hair was obviously Lynnae Wilcox. Howes made a mental whistle at the sight of Lyn's mammary-tested police shirt. He knew of Lyn's reputation of free kidney removal, and he kept his inadvertent lecherous thoughts to himself. Lyn's dark-haired partner, June Parlor, was taller and more buxom. She shared Lyn's reputation of impromptu kidney surgery. And, due to her height, June could put out a person's eye if she so desired. Howes wanted to keep his original peepers as long as possible, thank you very much.
    Tallest of the four cops was Nadia Junker. Her dark red hair contrasted well with her brown skin. Nadia was known as a fair and level-headed officer. Only a fool would underestimate her, for she too had a considerable bosom on her frame. Zachary Vandecreek, the only man in the approaching quartet, was Nadia's partner. He had the worn face of a veteran street pounder. It was clear that nothing escaped his attention, for he sized up the two OBN employees.
    "Hi, Amber," said Lynnae. "What'cha got on your blotter today?"
    "Actually a whole lot, but you four will get the chance to be tri-dee stars." Amber introduced her friends to Howes and Langtree. "Captain Laramie has assigned you guys the honor of being filmed while on patrol this week."
    Lynnae looked at the two cameramen. "You two are from that Badge of Bronze show, aren't you? I bet you asked for me and my partner by name."
    "Not true, Officer Wilcox." Howes looked a bit defensive. "Captain Laramie didn't ask if we had any preferences."
    Lynnae nodded. "Okay, but I do have something to say up front. Your filming request is limited to actual patrol duty and most of the common areas in the station. The locker rooms are expressly off-limits. I, June, and Nadia won't look too kindly on any 'accidental' entries. The 'whoops, wrong door' excuse just won't cut it with us."
    "Pardon me for asking," said Langtree, "but what prompted that stipulation? Badge of Bronze has always observed police rules and regulations."
    "True, but some disreputable people have been known to pass themselves off as cameramen. All those people want is a few minutes to film female police officers changing clothes. The underground vid-porn industry pays top dollar for such footage."
    Howes raised his hands in defense. "No worry about that, Officer Wilcox. All cameras are checked and logged each morning. Whatever film is taken will be reviewed by your superiors before it's sent to our producers."
    Lynnae nodded. "Just so we understand each other." Then she smiled. "Well, let's get started then. Mr Howes, you're with me and Officer Parlor. Miss Langtree, you're with Officers Vandecreek and Junker. We'll be patrolling in ten minutes, so if you need to use the facilities please do so now."
    "No need, Officer. We're ready to go."

After shift, Lynnae and her friends went to a bowling alley. It was a typical patrol day, but the inclusion of OBN cameras added a feeling of drama. Writing a simple ticket for a traffic violation had the potential to turn into a captivating event in the editing process. However, that was the furthest thing on the officers' minds. They wanted to relax and put the day behind them.
    "Yahoo!" Amber hooted in triumph. She scored her fifth strike in a row, making her the point leader. "I'm on a roll!"
    "Incredible," said June from her seat at the scoring desk. "That bowling ball must represent a good fraction of your body weight. How do you do it, Amber?"
    "Just chalk it up to my strength. Besides, my daddy was a top-notch bowler himself."
    It was Toby's turn to play. He smiled bashfully as he retrieved his bowling ball from the ball return. "If that's the case, Amber, you could've been a professional bowler. You have one heck of a bowling average."
    "Thank you, Toby. I would've become a professional bowler if I wanted to be one. But my sense of justice is quite strong."
    June had to chuckle. "I said that you're strong, Amber. Just think if you had bowling ball boobs on your chest. You'll be perpetually falling forward."
    "Ha, Ha," said Amber as she sat on the bench, retrieving her lollywater drink. "The only way I'll get nanites in my boobs will be by accident or an act of God. June, don't you ever miss being able to see your feet directly?"
    "Shut up, you!" June harumphed. "At least I have the ribcage to carry breasts . . . "
    "That's enough of that pudding," said Zach. "I've come to play bowling, not to witness the battle of the breasts."
    "I agree." This time Lynnae spoke. She stood up and retrieved her ball. "We'll have our hands full this week anyway. In five days it'll be Halloween. All the crazies will be out in force. The Civil Disturbance 101 gang will be on the rampage." Lining up on the alley, Lyn took aim and made her approach. The ball release was perfect, though the 10 pin was left standing.
    "And," Zach added, "don't forget the Thunderbolts-Jaguars soccer game. The soccer rowdies from Earth will be here in force. Those Jaguar fans can't keep any kind of liquor down."
    "Then you have the trick-or-treaters." Lyn retrieved her ball from the return and picked up the spare. "I wonder how many girls will be dressed up as Nude Attack Woman this year?"
 

2

Katrina Gearing, known to her adoring fans as Naoko, star of Nude Attack Woman, finally made it to her luxury apartment. Located on the 75^th floor, the apartment had a good view of Alberry Harbor. Even for late October, there were private boats out on the water. The fish hadn't retreated to the deeper parts of the Bass Sea yet, and the nighttime fishing was still good.
    If Katrina had the time, she too would've been out catching blue bass and square fins. That was the problem - a lack of time. Nude Attack Woman's shooting schedule had been hectic. Earlier in the year there was a writers' strike at the network, and it was resolved only two months ago. New episodes were being shot as fast as the scripts were approved. Controlled chaos could best describe daily life at the studio. Sleep, however brief, was the only escape from the grind of the shooting schedule.
    However, the tired tri-dee star had to do something first. Opening a spacious walk-in closet, Katrina went about locating a particular article of clothing. The studio was going to hold a private Halloween party, and Katrina was invited. Everyone was to appear in costume and everyone knew what Katrina (a.k.a. Naoko) was going to wear for the party.
    Resigned, the tired woman pulled out a costume she used in the first two seasons of Nude Attack Woman. The silver color of the costume was as brilliant and lustful as ever. Katrina knew she could still fit in the costume, since her personal trainer made sure she kept the same body weight all the time. Out first was the silver 'bikini' bottom, the backside a bit narrow so the required amount of buttcheek could be displayed. Next were the silver forearm and shin guards. Many a staged blow was delivered or fended off with those guards. A silver neck band, complete with fake diamonds and rubies, was retrieved from its own little box. Katrina admired the sparkle for a moment, then placed the band down.
    Last came the silver and gold tiara. In the center of the beautifully crafted headpiece was a blue-colored piece of glass, cut and crafted like it was an actual precious stone. Several times Katrina wished it was a real stone, a real stone imbued with magical powers. She knew thousands upon thousands of teenage girls (and not so few fanboys) had copies of the tiara, fantasizing that they too had magical powers to fight evil. Feeling a bit spunky, Katrina donned the tiara. Being made in part of memory plastic, the headband fitted perfectly. The weight of the tiara was practically nonexistent. At times she had to touch the tiara just to be sure it was still there.
    Out of habit, Katrina touched the tiara. In the show, her character Naoko would touch the fake blue gem to begin the transformation sequence. Odd, she thought, why does the glass feel so cold? Just then, a feeling of paralysis swept through her body. Had her voice been free, Katrina would've yelped in surprise. She couldn't even budge a centimeter. Then she heard a voice that she hadn't heard in years. It was a voice she hoped never to hear again.
    "Katrina," said the voice, its tone as frigid as ice. "You've done well without my aid for the past few years. Are you ready to repay me?"
    The frozen actress found her voice had returned. She used it. "No! You caught me in a moment of weakness. You didn't tell me your conditions."
    "Dear girl, a spirit need never tell a mortal the whole story. Besides, at the time, you were in urgent need of help. Remember, Katrina, remember that time."
    She fought the feeling, but Katrina had no choice but to recall the day auditions were held for Nude Attack Woman. It was the second round, and the five remaining hopefuls were told to wear a costume and perform acrobatic stunts and deliver dramatic lines. Katrina, an aspiring actress with the required athletic talent for the show, was almost ready for her audition. However, she discovered that she forgot to bring along her plastiskin breasts. The role of Naoko required the use of such norks when the character transforms into her sexy and powerful alter-ego. Using the plastic breasts also reduced the amount of CG time in post-production of each episode.
    On the verge of tears, Katrina had wished that her breasts could expand. Surprisingly, that was what exactly happened. Her small and pouty bust, which only knew the service of a 32B bra for years, filled out to the size exactly needed for the audition. If a measure was made, then a 32H bra would do the work that her 32B bra could no longer do. Katrina was phased by her new mass. She tentatively touched her breasts. The weight was right. It was if she wore her plastiskin breasts, but the sensations were real. She wondered if it was a latent power within her that finally manifested herself.
    The icy chill of the voice filled Katrina's ears again, bringing her back to the present. The voice startled her so much that she fell to the floor. She got on her knees before the paralysis returned, leaving her no choice but to listen what the voice had to say. "It was then that I spoke to you, asking if you found your added flesh was to your liking. You said yes."
    "I know!" Katrina yelped. "I thought I was hallucinating."
    The voice giggled. "Yes, you did. So much so that you felt that you had nothing to lose by talking to a voice in your head. But I'm quite real. Only by my intervention were you able to win the audition, becoming a person of fame. Afterwards, when you desired to have your normal size restored, I asked a favor for services rendered."
    "Oh, I remember that all too well," Katrina said carefully. "You said that in ten years time you would ask that favor of me. You're seven years early."
    Again, the voice giggled. "Memories of mortals can be quite selective. I said that I would invoke my favor when the numbers of the years equal 10." A deep laugh from the voice filled Katrina with dread. "You know what year this is, don't you?"
    "Oh God! 2413! When the numbers are added together . . . "
    "Exactly! My favor is due, and in a few days I shall sate my desires in the world of mortals."
    Katrina gasped as her breasts swelled to the size her fans have come to know and love. The snug sweater she wore became downright tight in places. She counted her blessings that she decided not to wear a bra that particular day. Gasping again, she felt phantom hands fondling and cupping her norks.
    The voice sounded just a shade warmer. "Flesh! Such superb, female flesh! I will enjoy every moment of feeling while in your body. This all-so-short encounter will last me until we meet again . . . in a few days' time." Katrina was released from her paralysis, and her breasts shrunk down to their normal B-cup size. She covered her sweater-clad chest, assuring herself that all was normal. The tiara on her head no-longer felt cold, and she hastily removed it. She had the right mind to destroy the tiara right then and there.
    "Katrina," said the voice. "you know that won't do any good. I want you to be in that costume when I take over your body. Your sensuality is increased greatly when you're wearing such revealing clothing. I want to experience as much sensuality while in your body." The voice faded as it laughed, but Katrina's nervousness and fear more than made up for its absence.
 

3

[Credits Roll and Theme Music Plays]

New Darwin, Outback - October 26, 2413
Central Station - 7:52 a.m.
First Shift Roll Call

The atmosphere in the briefing room was animated this particular morning. Officers were talking amongst themselves about the upcoming Thunderbolts-Jaguars soccer game. In the back of the room, Howes and Langtree, the two OBN cam-ops, prepped their gear. They proceeded to film the room as the first shift commander, Captain Laramie, entered and took roll. She then read off from a file pad. There was quite a bit on the list this particular day, and Laramie didn't spare the details.
    "Now for the best stuff," said Laramie. "We have good word that the Civil Disturbance 101 Gang will be out in force this Halloween. In fact, several off-planet chapters will be here not only for the soccer game, but to cause mischief on Halloween as well." The mood in the room went a few points south. "So keep your eyes and ears open. The last three days this week will be busy."
    Laramie consulted her file pad again. "Oh yes, now for the very best. It seems that a rather large contingent of Jaguars fans is expected for the game. Anticipate an increased number of soccer rowdies, especially since it'll be the 75^th anniversary of the Olsen Field Riot." Again, the mood went down in the room. Some of the officers, including June, frowned. Jaguar fans weren't noted for their civility and good taste. Laramie looked at her officers. "Okay, friends, you be careful out there."
    The assembled officers replied as one. "We will, Mom."
    Howes went with Lyn and June to the motor pool. Getting their car assignment, the buxom duo did the normal vehicle and equipment check. Howes settled in the back seat, checking his gear again. Cam-ops used a combination of sunnies, headband, and shoulder-mounted cameras, mics, and lights. It took a bit a practice to control the built-in gear with voice and eye-monitored movements. However, it had the advantage of leaving the hands free.
    Checks complete, the officers got in the cruiser. Lyn took the driver's seat while June settled next to her. One call to Dispatch later had the vehicle pull out of the underground garage and onto the street. It wasn't long before the police radio crackled to life. Howes turned on his gear as a matter of course.

October 26, 2413
8:25 a.m. - Illegal Solicitation
Patrol Officers Wilcox and Parlor

June got ready to exit the cruiser. "Dispatch, we see the suspect in question. Investigating."
    "10-4, Charlie 14," replied the operator at Dispatch.
    Lyn brought the cruiser to a stop. "Oh, it's this guy," she said whimsically, looking back at Howes. "You'll get an eyeful of this character."
    "Or a lungful," June added. "This guy can put week-old garbage to shame."
    Howes tagged along, his eyes acting as the aiming devices for the miniature cameras built in his oversized sunglasses. He saw the man that Dispatch mentioned. The man looked presentable enough, but Howes' street sense told him that this man was ratty.
    "What's all this then?" Lyn looked at the man, her face showing her expression of recognition. "Frankie, what are you doing?"
    The man named Frankie was standing inside a small kiosk. Tacked on the outside and inside walls appeared to be Halloween costumes and plastiskin masks. Frankie smiled like a weasel. "Officer Wilcox, how are you finding the morning so far?"
    "What I'm finding," said Lyn, "is that some people never learn. Frankie, you have a license for this kiosk?"
    Frankie handed the short officer a card. "Yes I do, Officer. All legal and like."
    June stepped forward. "How about the Halloween stuff?"
    "It's legit, Officer Parlor."
    Lyn consulted her minicomp. "Care to tell me where you got your supplies?"
    "Perfectly legit. It was perfectly good stuff, officers. I found it in the trash."
    "Really? Left in the trash? Or left by the trash?" Lyn edged forward, her bust scarce centimeters above the kiosk counter top. Frankie looked anxious. "Seems here that you match the description of a man seen running away from the delivery dock of a department store a few days ago."
    "That's a base lie, Officer. These costumes were found in the trash. Common law states that items in the trash become public property."
    "Sure," June moved closer, her basketball bust hanging above the counter like twin balloons. Her cold weather jacket did little to reduce the effect of her ampleness. Frankie began to sweat. "You threw the box into the trash first, then ran off with it."
    "Another base lie." Frankie couldn't help but stare at Lyn and June's fronts. "I can't be responsible if people toss perfectly good costumes into the trash."
    Lyn sighed, moving forward ever so slightly. Being so short, Lyn's bust made contact with the counter top. The light reflecting off the badge illuminated Frankie's face like an impromptu spotlight. "Frankie, I can get an ID on the missing costumes in a heartbeat, but you've made another mistake. You see, you're in the wrong spot. This corner has been licensed to another vendor."
    Frankie's eyes had glazed over. The jackets the officers wore were snug over their bosoms. Breathing pushed and stretched the jacket material slightly, but Frankie had an active imagination. "Really?"
    June leaned forward, her norks made contact with the counter surface. "Yes. The vendor was rather upset and called the police. Thanks to the required ID number on your kiosk, we found your file right quick. Now, will you let us inspect your goods or shall we bring in the employee that will identify the costume for us?"
    Frankie didn't respond. In his hopelessly perverted mind, he saw the officers wearing nothing but their underwear. With no jackets in the way, Frankie's could readily see the results of his imagination. Naked breast flesh quivered with breathing, each tremor was like an earthquake. He lost it. Falling backwards, the petty criminal was oblivious to pain as he brought the kiosk down on top of himself. Lyn made a call for an ambulance and went about removing the kiosk material off of Frankie.
    A bit disgusted, June faced Howes. "Frankie has a history of petty crimes and scams. He can't get it in his head that he should stay on the good side of the law. Plus he's easily mesmerized by the female form. This is the fifth time that I and my partner have confronted and arrested him."
    Howes nodded, and continued to film. He had heard stories about the Buxom Duo in action. In this instance, it was the bad guy's own lust that brought about his quick demise. Other foes had to learn the hard way that bosoms could be used as psychological as well as visual (and even physical) weapons.
 

4

Katrina managed to drag herself into the apartment. The shooting of the current Nude Attack Woman episode was rather bad. Her co-stars were flubbing their lines big-time, and the director was tearing into his supply of crushable hand speakers. Only after repeated takes were the required scenes finished. Katrina counted herself lucky that the director didn't level his basement vocabulary at her.
    Not bothering to speak, Katrina manually entered commands into the food processor in the kitchen. She stripped down to her underwear as she waited. On this day she wore a bra, but that came off as well, leaving her with just a girlish, polka-dotted panty. With tired hands, she inspected her chest for any trace of the bioglue dissolvent. Plastiskin breasts were light, but irksome. It was like carrying twin packets of foam at times, and Katrina really had to perform while in character. After all, a woman falling on top of her boobs will feel pain and discomfort, not joy and pleasure as most boys would like to believe.
    The dinner was ready and Katrina wolfed it down. She knew the taste would catch up to her eventually. With a playful toss, the plate ended up in the automated sink. Next came the panty, which Katrina flung into the combo clothes washer/dryer. After a much-deserved shower, the actress donned a towel and sat at the edge of her bed. Combing her hair, she wondered if the mood of the studio Halloween party would be adversely affected by the day's filming. The party . . .
    A sudden urge, a desire, enwrapped Katrina. She felt the intense need to wear the tiara again. Before she knew it, she was inside the closet, opening the box that held the costume. Oh, she wanted to wear the simple yet beautiful headpiece, feeling the cool sensation on her forehead. But part of her knew that the headband should stay off her head. Instinctively, she knew the voice was connected to the tiara in some way. Arms trembling, Katrina fought a war against herself and lost. Cool metal made contact with flesh, and the voice returned.
    "How is my host doing tonight?" said the voice mockingly. "In three days I will have so much fun. Your friends at the party will have fun also. All will benefit from my pleasure."
    Katrina replied in a challenging tone. "What are you going to do at the party?"
    The voice giggled. "This, for starters." With that said, Katrina gaped in amazement as her bosom grew. Her towel came undone as the norks attained their 32H size, but they didn't stop. It was as if Katrina was being drawn forward into her new breasts, covering her ribcage with urgent growth.
    "Stop it!" Katrina tried to stem her swelling mass. She might as well try to stop a raging river with a hand sponge. Falling backwards, the anxious actress watched as her bosom continued to grow. She couldn't lift her head up without running into the boobflesh, and her view of the ceiling became ever more limited.
    The voice harumphed. "As you wish. Your friends at the party will be at least this size. Sit up and gaze upon your glories, Katrina."
    With trembling arms, Katrina sat up and almost bawled. The voice saw fit to give the luckless actress watermelon breasts. While appropriate for an Angelican lass in regards to size, it was the weight of the flesh that made it feel so wrong. Katrina swore that her breasts were as heavy as mountains. Had nanites made the breasts, they would've been much lighter. As far as the actress was concerned, she might as well have two wet sacks of plasticrete sitting on her lap.
    The voice spoke again, its smugness as palatable as thick steam. "I know they're heavy, Katrina. Only the sensations of real breasts can satisfy me. No unnatural breasts, those made bigger by tiny machines, can ever give the pleasure that I'm feeling from you now. Your baser self is enjoying the pleasure it's receiving. You have no choice but to sate my desires. I can now wait patiently for the next three days, my sweet. Sleep well."
    The voice hardly fell silent when Katrina witnessed her breasts rapidly shrink to their normal B-cup size. It was too much. Naked, the bewildered actress fell on her bed and sobbed. Part of it was that the voice was right. Katrina did feel a base pleasure in having an outsized bosom. How can a woman not feel on top of the world when her breasts were perfectly huge and sensual? Many times she heard from her friends and co-workers the virtues, and perks, of being ample. It was something that Katrina wanted for herself, but at much later time.
    With clammy hands, Katrina cupped her minuscule breasts. The feeling she expected was absent. Instead, it was like the malleable, but dull, material of the plastiskin breasts she wore while in the role of her on-screen alter ego of Naoko. For maximum versatility, actresses wear fake breasts so they could be whatever size their roles required. Only those actresses that wanted to play certain roles kept large, but real, breasts for any length of time. Katrina had always wanted to make herself bigger, but only after her career reached the point where her influence would allow such a luxury.
    Then a thought occurred to Katrina. She could tell someone, a friend. But who would believe her? A spirit that inflates breasts for pleasure would sound like something the show's writers would come up with. Everyone else would assume that the fumes from hundreds of bioglue dissolvent cans have finally eroded her brain. Then, in her desperation, Katrina remembered someone. Actually, two people to be precise. They had the reputation of being the best street cops in the city. More importantly, the duo had saved the actress from the dubious affections of one Mr Big, super criminal and uber lecher. If they were able to defeat the perverted midget on his own home ground, then a wicked spirit might not be too much of a stretch for them.
 

5

"You got a call from whom?" June was standing before a full-length mirror in the women's locker room of Central Station. She adjusted her brastraps before buttoning up her shirt.
    Lyn was doing the same, giving her bra-clad glories a final once-over before donning her shirt. "Katrina Gearing, the actress. She plays the part of Naoko in the series Nude Attack Woman."
    June slapped her forehead. "How could I forget? How's our favorite Katty?"
    "She sounded a bit concerned. Her studio will be holding a Halloween party, and she's afraid that a certain unwanted guest will crash it."
    "I see." June tucked her tie into her shirt, in-between the second and third buttons. "Mr Big may make another appearance."
    "Don't forget the CD 101 gang. They're the most rabid fanboys around for Nude Attack Woman." Like her taller friend, Lyn adjusted her tie according to regulations.
    Just then Nadia came barging into the locker room. She looked ticked. Behind her she dragged one Lt Larry Harkin (a.k.a. The Lecher). What made the scene really amazing was the fact that Nadia was just clad in her police-issued bra and panties. Created by the capable hands of Sgt Wooster, the station's quartermaster, Nadia's undergarments were incredibly strong.  The bra not only supported Nadia's basketball bust, it could also stop a 14mm bullet in its tracks. The fabric of her panties was just as resilient. Nevertheless, the plain-looking underwear really made Nadia (and Lyn and June for that matter) look that much more sexy. Harkin was clearly of that opinion.
    "What did he do this time?" June stretched her arms and cracked her knuckles.
    Nadia dumped Harkin onto the floor. The buxom trio surrounded him. "Well, my 'ware detected a video transmission from within the locker room. I found a pair of video sunnies atop my locker. It belonged to Wilma, and she mentioned that she lost a pair in the station yesterday.
    "I followed the transmission path, and it lead directly to the mens locker room. Only one man is depraved enough to have sneaked the video sunnies into our locker room."
    Lyn looked surprized. "Nadia, are you telling me that you marched down the hall in your skinnies? Did anyone notice?"
    "If they did, then they knew better than to say anything. When they saw me dragging the Lecher behind me, they knew what was going to happen to him."
    Harkin curled up in a ball. "Please," he whimpered. "I'm a slave to my vices. Have pity."
    Bra-clad bosoms heaving, the trio primed their patented kidney-removing fists. "I have pity, Lecher." June said wickedly. "It's a pity that you probably get off on having buxom women beating the crap outta you. Instead, I think you'll make an excellent practice partner for the SWAT guys. They need to brush up on their judo skills, you know."
    "No, not the SWAT team. They're mean!"
    Lyn laughed. "They're downright pussy cats compared to what we girls can do. But here's a complementary kick from us. This will remind you how bad it could've been."
    Larry's yelp of pain was remembered throughout the station for the rest of the day.

On patrol, Zach and Nadia received a call from Dispatch. A group of men were seen in a residential area, doing petty vandalism to houses and vehicles. Arriving at the scene, the cruiser's spotlight caught some of the vandals in the act of applying soap to the windows of a house. Wilma, the cam-op riding with the officers, was ready to exit the vehicle. She didn't wait long.
    Back-up was called, and Nadia was the first out the door. In excellent physical condition, Nadia ran after one of the vandals. Her long legs made it difficult for Wilma to keep up, but she was a trooper. The running came to an abrupt end when Nadia caught one of the vandals with a flying leap. Wilma's camera gear focused on the vandal. It wasn't much of a surprize that the vandal wore a CD 101 jacket.
    Nadia expected resistance, but the man offered none. She took the man back to the cruiser. "A bit early, are you? Devil's Night is tomorrow."
    Virtually all CD gang members were middle-age men who indulged in petty acts that were more fitting for boys one-third their age. This one obviously commanded a desk somewhere. "For Civil Disturbance 101, Ossifer," said the man, "every night is Devil's Night. Now tonight is gonna be very special for me."
    "Yes," Nadia hissed, "spending a night in jail, surrounded by men who did far worse crimes than you. Hope your undies are water-absorbent."
    "Not for that, Ossifer. I got tackled by one of the buxom belles of the Police Department. I will forever carry the memory of your norks pressing into my back as you tackled and frisked me for weapons."
    Turning to Wilma, Nadia had her face set in disgust for the camera's benefit. "These CD punks are hopeless perverts. They go out of their way to commit petty crimes, hoping that me or my ample friends will arrest them. If this happened to anyone else, I would've been sued for using my breasts as weapons."
    Wilma had to agree. Nadia had a rack that could crush the wind out of anybody. She also noticed the engagement ring Nadia wore. The lucky man who gave that ring to her must be very strong indeed to endure Nadia's tender affection. In comparison, the over-aged delinquent looked out of shape. A flight of stairs for this man would be like climbing Mt Foremost (the tallest mountain on Outback).
    Pivoting, Wilma filmed Zach as he returned to the cruiser. The two CDers under his arms were comparatively lightweight to Nadia's catch. "These deros thought they were a class act," said Zach as he placed the unconscious men next to the vehicle. "One thought he was a spring heel. He tripped on his own feet and knocked himself out. The other tried to eat his jacket. He wanted to get rid of evidence that he was a CDer. When I told him to stop, he fainted."
    "Did you use your Wrath of God voice?" Nadia cuffed her catch and read him his rights.
    "More like vengeance personified." Zach made a call into his collar-com. Two cruisers came in short order to take the vandals to Central Station, thus ending Wilma's night of filming.
 

6

October 30, 2413
11:42 p.m. - Drunk and Disorderly
Patrol Officers Wilcox and Parlor

Howes primed his gear. The call came in over cruiser radio. A group of Jaguar fans had somehow escaped surveillance, ending in a public park. The group was quite drunk and rowdy, especially since the Jaguars defeated the Thunderbolts in what was a very close game. June, in the driver's seat, guided the cruiser to the location provided by Dispatch. Lyn accessed a park security camera and had the display routed to the cruiser's view panel. The drunk fans were harassing people and making general nuisances of themselves. If they happened to run into a group of disgruntled Thunderbolt fans the situation could turn ugly.
    June had to remind herself to keep cool. The Jaggies (as Jaguar fans called themselves) were not noted for their civility. Hailing from England on Earth, the Jaggies were quite boisterous in supporting their team. It was an outlet for their enthusiasm in an otherwise dull and unassuming life. Seventy-five years ago the Jaggies started a riot after their team won the exhibition game held at Olsen Field in New Darwin. The Jaguars were barred from Outback for ten years and those Jaggies fans most responsible for starting the riot were permanently banned. Thankfully, there were few serious injuries. But that didn't count for much to June, for her paternal grandfather was severely injured at the hands of Jaggies during the riot.
    "This is Charlie 14," said Lyn as she detached her stunner from her 10mm service gun, "10-7 (on location) at the 10-30 (drunk and disorderly)."
    "10-4, Charlie 14," replied Dispatch. "Advise 10-15 (backup)?"
    "As soon as possible, Dispatch. Charlie 14 investigating." Lyn turned, finding that June had her service gun out. "June," said Lyn firmly, "we don't need the complication of a gun. Detach the stunner."
    "I hear you. But if they turn ugly, I won't hold back."
    Lyn nodded gravely, then turned to Howes. "You be careful, Howes. Jaggies would sooner punch you as to throw up all over you. With that said," Lyn opened her door, "let's go."
    It was bad. Six total, the Jaggies had liquored themselves up to a point where they could be mistaken for a brewery. Even so, these Englishmen were still able to say complete sentences, and wasted no time to comment on the approach on the buxom duo. "Whatsa dis?" said one Jaggie. "We have booby Bobbies cummin our way."
    "That's not watta say here on Ouuutback," said the Jaggie's companion. "They say da Bronze. I wonda if their boobies are as bronze as their shields?"
    "Good evening, Gentlemen." Lyn said the last word conditionally. "Having a good time on Outback, are we?"
    "Not quite, Ossifer," belched a Jaggie. "We've notta sample the local she-las yet."
    "Yeah." Another Jaggie added. "Where's da Box and all those fun baggies?"
    All the Jaggies had large guts due to habitual beer drinking. The one with the largest gut was also the tallest. When this man moved forward, he gave the impression of a walking mass of flesh. "Why we havta wait for da Box when we have these she-las here ready to acumidate us." The Jaggies laughed at the tall obese man's attempt at humor.
    June's hand crept imperceptibly towards her stunner. "Sounds like you gentlemen need to sleep that beer off."
    "We be sleeping." The tall Jaggie staggered towards June. "We be sleeping it off between your lovelies. Won't we lads?" The Jaggies agreed, moving in a drunken but menacing manner towards the cops.
    As established in police procedures, and fully supported by the laws of the city, the buxom duo fired their stunners at the drunk Jaggies. Five went down for the count, emptying the contents of their stomachs like so many gutted fishes. The tall one received two direct shots before going down, but he hurled like a cannon, nailing Howes full in the face.
    Disgusted, June roughly turned the tall Jaggie over. "Stupid Limeys. Now I need to take a hot bath to remove your fowl stench from my person."
    Backup arrived, including a patty wagon. Lyn helped to load the fallen men. "Prime examples of English manhood, all of them. I guess those Harvard and Oxford rings they wear must prove their proficiency in emptying beer kegs. They probably get their Dole stipends before everyone else each month."
    "You said it, Lyn. They probably use those rings to open their beer cans. I'm sure we saved some innocent women from harm tonight. These guys are going to dry out overnight in the drunk tank. No, make that all day. They still smell like a brewery."
    "At least Texans from Earth say 'Please' and 'Thank You' when they're drunk off their asses. But like these losers, that's most of the time." Lyn then noticed Howes. "Ouch! There's a towel in the trunk, Howes. I bet you feel like Hell."
    "It's okay, Officer Wilcox. This isn't the first time a drunk Jaggie offered the contents of his spare tyre to me. I was on Jadestone two years ago, filming a Bronze episode at the time." It took an effort of will on Howes' part not to throw up as well.
    June retrieved a towel, handing it to Howes. "You can use the showers in the mens locker room when we get back to the station."
    "You're most kind, Officer Parlor. As much as I want to show this footage on the air, I'm afraid that this incident will end up a specialty video. It's okay to show naked bottoms on prime-time tri-dee, but puking Jaggies would cause a ratings plunge."
    Smiling, June offered a second fresh towel to the OBN cam-op. "That's okay, Howes. I'm sure that your recording will make money for OBN anyway. I know for a fact that the boys at the station will buy a copy. The break room will show it nonstop for weeks."
    "I'll be famous yet. Do you have the time?"
    June checked her dermal watch. "It's Oh-Two Compensate. Sixteen minutes until 1:00 a.m."
    Lyn accepted the soiled towels, placing them unceremoniously in the trunk of the cruiser. "Be thankful we just had this to contend with tonight. Halloween evening will be much more busy."
 

7

Halloween night. One corner of the Gosner Studio property held houses that served as on-site living quarters for visitors. The largest house was practically a mansion. It had its own small ballroom, and was often used for filming purposes. A well-catered party was in process when the literal star of the hour arrived.
    "Katrina!" exclaimed Jobe Foxworth, the producer of Nude Attack Woman. "What a wonderful costume you have, dear. Going for the Gumshoe Detective look?"
    "Not at all, Jobe." Katrina gripped her trenchcoat for emphasis. "It's rightfully nippy outside. My costume is underneath this wonderfully warm coat."
    "Do I get three guesses, and the first two don't count?"
    "You're such a flatterer, Jobe." Without hesitating, Katrina removed her trenchcoat. All eyes in the room focused on her. No-one was disappointed with what they saw. The other guests really expected Katrina to wear her Nude Attack Woman costume.
    Jobe noticed something. "Katrina, dear, where's the tiara? That's the same costume you wore for the first two seasons. Had Mr Big stolen the tiara as a memento?"
    "He didn't. I still got it." Katrina's dipped her hand into a side pocket of the trenchcoat. Her hand gripped the tiara harshly. A creeping wave of cold advanced up her arm and throughout her body. The fake nipples on Katrina's plastiskin breasts wanted to become erect, but the silver pasties remained firm. Before she could think about it, the actress affixed the tiara to her forehead.
    Jobe rubbed his hands. "You look sexy and succulent as ever, Katty. I'm sure you're going to oblige us with a small bit of playacting later tonight. Your co-stars also arrived in costume. The stage in the ballroom is all-set for an improvisation skit."
    Wonderful, thought the voice from within Katrina's head, I will have an audience whose minds will be open to my power. My lust will be served.
    Katrina smiled back at Jobe, but on the inside she winced. What are you going to do?
    I've told you, Katty. Everyone at this party will be pleasured. I will feed on their lust. You will fulfill your end of the agreement.
    Walking in a manner that radiated sex appeal, Katrina entered the ballroom and went to engage in small talk with her friends. She wanted to leave, but the voice kept her from rebelling. It tormented Katrina to no-end that the skit was set to begin in forty minutes.

Charlie 5, the call sign for Nadia and Zach's cruiser, was ordered to investigate the scene of a misdemeanor theft and assault. A group of trick-or-treaters was confronted by a man in a robot suit. The robot man punched the adult leader out cold and stole the kids' candy bags. The cruiser arrived three minutes after the report was made.
    Nadia and Zach found the group of kids huddled over their adult leader. Wilma started her camera gear. She filmed the sad and frightened faces of the little kids - kids who had their candy stolen by a meanie in a costume. Nadia got down on one knee, making her height less intimidating for the rattled children. "Hey, can you tell me about this robot guy you saw?" She said in a friendly voice.
    "It was big and silver," said a little girl, her face painted like a tiger. "It walked really funny."
    "Yeah," said a boy disguised like a space adventurer. "It walked like it had stiff legs."
    Zach checked the adult. Apart from a torn jacket he appeared to be okay. "Sir, can you add anything to what the kids have said?"
    The adult nodded, taking a deep breath to start his voice. "Oh yeah, Officer. Whoever is in that suit must have pneumonia. When he laughed, it sounded like he was trying to cough up a lung."
    "That bad, eh?" Zach stood up. He got a pair of night vision glasses from a belt pouch. "Saw where it went?"
    The kids pointed down the street. "Over there, Officer," said the painted-face girl.
    "I see it. Looks like it's inspecting its catch. About three blocks down. I guess the surface paint is only silver when exposed to direct light." Zach primed his collar comm, informing Dispatch that he and Nadia were going to approach the suspect. Back-up was also called. Wilma followed, her camera gear kept her recording in focus and steady.
    As they approached, the officers believed it was a man in a robot costume. The suspect was rifling through the contents of the candy bags, obviously searching for candies he liked. Nadia shined her torch on the candy pilferer. What she saw made her tense up. Zach did likewise. The officers expected a conventional costume, not something that imitated a 20^th century water boiler with arms and legs. Only one person was known to make robots using such a body design.
    Nadia and Zach pulled their service guns without a moment's hesitation. "Robot! Turn around with your hands up! And no funny stuff, Mr Big!"
    The Robot did turn around. An all-too-familiar laugh spilled out of the small rectangular grill speaker that constituted the robot's 'mouth'. It was indeed Mr Big, and he stopped his laughter with a bit of effort. "Happy Halloween, Officers! I see that the black magic of Halloween Night has favored me with your presence. How's the leg, Sergeant Vandecreek? Sorry I broke it on our first encounter."
    "Shut yer trap, Big." Zach leveled his gun at the Robot. "I've pegged you as a miserable little spot even before we met. Using a robot to steal candy from little kids is a new low for you."
    Big's guffaws sounded tinny coming from the Robot's speaker. "Officer, I'm doing those kids a favor. I'm saving them a trip to the dentist, and they won't get a tummy ache tonight from eating too many sweets."
    Nadia turned on her pistol's targeting laser, aiming her weapon right at the vision port of the BAT (Boiler Android Trooper). "You know, Big, we can shoot your BAT. Your robots have been declared hazards to the public safety."
    "Is that so? Well, I won't be losing much if I do this!" Big had the BAT charge the officers. Four rounds struck the criminal robot, but the armor held. A mechanical hand latched onto Zach's gun, taking it away and crushing the barrel.
    Gun secured, Nadia kicked the BAT in the knee. That only made the robot focus its attention on the tall woman. Cool metallic hands tore at Nadia's front, ripping off the heavy jacket and shirt. Only the huge police-issue bra remained on the officer's chest.
    "Pretty!" Big exclaimed. "As much as I like to look, I have to go."
    Zach reached for his nightstick. The memory-plastic weapon changed into its familiar form at the touch of its owner. He tried to take out the BAT's eyes, but the mechanical man was surprisingly agile. For his efforts, Zach was thrown to the ground roughly.
    Nadia tried to grapple with the robot as well. A non-stick surface prevented her from holding onto the machine. It was akin to holding an oiled pig. Big's voice laughed again. "Nothing you can do, deary. I'll take my leave of you."
    "You're not gonna get away with that candy!" Nadia punched the robot, and surprisingly made a huge dent just below the grill speaker.
    Big had his robot go into a run, picking up the candy bags on the way. The BAT could easily outrun a normal person. Nadia, however, was actually gaining ground on the machine. Another woman, whose chest was exposed, would be trying to find a way to cover herself. Being a cop, Nadia had to be able to do her job in adverse conditions. Running in the cold, with only a bra for top cover, counted in this regard. Wilma followed, her camera gear compensating for the distance between her and the action.
    "Damn!" Big said to no-one in particular in his remote hideout. "I gotta get away from that woman!" Just ahead was a microwave transmission tower, about 75 meters in height. Big figured that Nadia wouldn't follow the BAT up the tower. Albert, already in the Supercar, would then collect the BAT with a grappling claw and carry it away. With that done, Big could chow down on all the Halloween candy he could want.
    Once again, Big failed to take into account Nadia's dedication. She followed the BAT up the tower. Higher and higher they went, while Wilma stayed on the ground, filming the incredible event with her camera gear.
    At the fifty-meter level Nadia caught up to the BAT. She grabbed a foot and yanked really hard. The robot came to a halt. It shook its leg furiously in an attempt to make Nadia let go. It worked the first time, but three meters further up Nadia grabbed the foot again and pulled hard. Like a plastic prop, the foot came off.
    Big was annoyed. The BAT was having a difficult time climbing the tower while hauling a huge bag of candy. Having a buxom officer chasing your mechanical henchman was . . . It was then that Big fully appreciated that Nadia's chest was just clad in a bra. He had the BAT focus its camera eyes on Nadia. To be precise, he focused the robot's view on Nadia's stunning cleavage. A huge white bra held her breasts as firm as a building's foundation. The cleavage created by the bra was sharply defined and deep, deep enough to be declared a hazard for mountain climbers.
    Enthralled, Big had the BAT zoom in closer. He always regarded women in uniform as cute. Big much preferred buxom women in all sorts of uniform. Nadia obviously was missing some of hers, which made Big's view all the better. Unfortunately, Big had the robot lean over too much. In danger of falling over the side, the BAT lunged for a girder. It grabbed one, but Nadia had caught up again, this time she was after the other foot. Quickly, the harried robot reached out for its next handhold. It found the support strut for a microwave reception dish instead.
    The strut was far too weak to support the weight of the BAT. Nadia scarcely had time to move out of the way, but she made it. And, holding to her good luck, she snagged the candy bags away from the BAT as it and the dish it held fell fifty-five meters to the ground. The impact was severe enough to make the BAT rupture into several pieces.
    Still using her adrenaline rush, Nadia climbed down. The candy bags had carrying straps, so she hauled them over her shoulder. Only on the ground did she realized that it was cold. She shivered as she inspected the ruined remains of the BAT. Zach and some of the kids arrived. Like a gentleman, Zach gave Nadia his jacket. It was a snug fit, but it kept her warm.
    "Thank you, Zach. Now isn't the time to catch a cold."
    "I agree." Zach had to grin. "You would've had one heck of a chest cold."
    Nadia playfully punched Zach in the chest. "Don't say that again if you want to live," she added humorously.
    The kids gathered around the demolished BAT. They complimented Nadia, calling her a 'big nice lady' and asked for her autograph. Wilma continued to film. She had no doubt that the studio was going to have a fun time editing this particular footage into a format suitable for tri-dee viewing.
 

8

Katrina stood on stage in the mansion's ballroom. Sharing the stage were friends and co-stars from the show. Like Katrina, those people were in costume as well. The impromptu skit was a typical Nude Attack Woman plot. Jerome Loam, known better as his tri-dee alter-ego of Dash Dastardly, was doing no-good as usual. It was up to Naoko, the Nude Attack Woman herself, to save the day.
    After a comical on-stage battle, which included the gratuitous breast-grab by Dastardly, Katrina was victorious. She stood over Dastardly, ready to administer justice with her Scepter of Supplication. In her mind, Katrina felt the voice gloat and snicker. A cool trickle of sweat ran down her face; she knew the voice was about to unleash its power.
    "Oh, please," said Dastardly in a pathetic, pleading voice. "Don't use the Scepter on me! Anything but that!"
    Katrina lost control of her voice. The evil spirit took over. When it spoke, a cool thread was entwined with each word. "Dastardly, you'll be humbled in short order. Tell me, it's not me you want to glom and fondle all day long. Who is the one you really want?"
    "Bertha Volts," Dastardly blurted out. He covered his mouth immediately. The actor secretly desired to make mattress magic with the actress that played Bertha, the mother of Naoko. He had no idea what made him say that. Bertha looked surprized as well.
    Katrina's smiled, but not of her own volition. The voice continued to speak in a cool tone. "I can make that possible. With breasts fit to be called pillows, Bertha will keep you warm and satisfied at all hours of the day." Scepter raised high, Katrina fixed her gaze on Bertha. "You shall be made humble and brought down to earth!"
    The front of Bertha's blouse ruptured like an over dramatic special effect. Two pale melons of breast flesh, quivering with urgent growth, filled the available space on Bertha's chest. Staring silently, the actress had to suck in her lips so she wouldn't scream.
    Jobe, the producer, looked perplexed. "Hey, that's totally out of character for Naoko."
    Katrina's gaze was as cold as a glacier. Jobe wilted like a wet noodle. "You couch commander!" she barked. The real Katrina, prisoner in her own body, had to listen to 'herself' talk. "You, Jobe, had the unmitigated gall to grope female talent on your casting couch! And by talent I don't mean their acting skill!"
    Lulu, Jobe's assistant, looked revolted. She stepped away from her boss like he was week-old roadkill. The voice in Katrina's body stared into Jobe's frightened eyes. "There's one person you haven't groped yet. Lulu is as flat as they come, but when I'm done with her . . . " Katrina pointed the Scepter at Lulu. "Be humble, Lulu, for you will be endowed with breasts that will forever satisfy Jobe's desire to grope and glom all day!"
    Shrieking, Lulu gawked in horror as her bust filled to beanbag size at a freakish rate. The great increase in weight made the scared woman fall on top of her breasts. Had they been real beanbags, Lulu would've looked like a girl having fun at a pajama party. As it was, her silk costume made her look like a China Doll with ridiculously-large breasts.
    The voice in Katrina was far from finished. 'Borrowing' Katrina's eyes, the voice looked at Andrew, the actor who played Naoko's slightly-dense boyfriend. "You, Andrew, are a pervert on par with the infamous Mr Big! You've used your fan club as a dating service! Yet you settle on girls who barely have breasts! Let me correct that deficiency."
    Andrew wasn't alone at the party. He had five 'friends' (read - young female fans) with him. The voice inflated the flat frauleins to the incredible size of pillow women. As it worked, Andrew was in the center of all that expanding breast mass. Once completed, Andrew was literally trapped in a sea of bosoms. He did nothing to escape. What happened to his fans was his fondest fantasy. The fans certainly didn't agree, for they squealed in dismay.
    The voice gloated. "Okay," it said frigidly, "which woman shall I inflate next?" The actress who played the lusty school nurse felt icy eyes land on her. "Ah. Freya, the nurse. The bit of cleavage you display has caused many a boy to have nosebleeds. Let me make their discomfort worth the loss of blood and facial tissue!"
    Freya, a mid-sized woman with a generous top, became a mid-sized woman with an outrageous top. Her breasts exploded with growth, filling out to double-sized beanbags. The audience finally figured that they should be elsewhere - fast. The voice saw the movement toward the exits, and used its powers to keep those exits closed. With its possessed body, the voice smiled wickedly. "Don't flee. My party has only just begun!"

October 31, 2413
10:05 p.m. - 10-98a (Possible Mr Big Incident in Progress)
Patrol Officers Wilcox and Parlor

Lyn turned down the volume on the police radio. "Nadia and Zach got the luck of the draw tonight. I doubt Mr Big will strike at Katrina's party. If he planned to do that, then he wouldn't have used that BAT to steal Halloween candy."
    "I believe you're right," June said. She was in the driver's seat, observing the nighttime city streets pass by the cruiser's windows. "He knows that we're Katrina's friends. I guess he didn't want kidney surgery tonight."
    Howes, in the back seat, focused his video glasses on June. "Mr Big sure puts a lot of effort for results only he could appreciate," he said. "Should we be thankful that was just a BAT stealing candy?"
    "We take them as they come, Howes. Mr Big could've done much worse tonight."
    Lyn turned up the radio. "I think we've just been rewarded for our sins."
    The voice of a police dispatcher spilled out the radio's speaker grill. "Charlie 14, 10-98a in progress at Gosner Studio. Call studio security for further details and investigate."
    "Charlie 14. 10-4 on that 98a." Lynnae grinned. "Amber, you owe me ten dollars when I return to the station."
    The dispatcher was indeed Amber, and when she replied it was in her well-known authoritative radio voice. "Charlie 14, refrain from using the radio for personal chitchat."
    "10-4, Dispatch. Charlie 14 on-route."
    Howes was anxious. Wilma had her fun filming Nadia and Zach as they confronted the BAT. The possibility of getting Mr Big on film was downright exciting. Captain Laramie agreed with Lyn's opinion that Mr Big might make a try at the Gosner Studio party, so she had the buxom duo patrol the area around the studio proper. With a fresh battery and datacard inserted in his camera gear, Howes had only to wait three minutes as the cruiser entered the studio property and made for the mansion.
 

9

Lyn and June stepped out of their cruiser, flashlights drawn. Howes, his gear active, quickly filmed the front of the mansion before following the officers inside. Two studio security guards were waiting in the main foyer.
    "Thank goodness you're here, officers," said one guard. "Miss Gearing is on a rampage. She has . . . well . . . "
    "Spit it out, man," said an impatient June.
    "Just take a gander through that window." The second guard pointed at a bay window that should've provided a view of the ballroom. Lyn and June knew this because they were at the mansion previously.
    "What ugly drapes. Looks like flesh-colored paint."
    "That's not paint," said the second guard. "Those are breasts! Miss Gearing has been inflating all the women in the ballroom!"
    The buxom duo was understandably surprised. Lyn prepped her standalone, heavy-duty stun gun. "So much for a Mr Big incident. We have to get in there."
    "All the doors are locked tight. We even tried a crowbar."
    "Any other entrances?"
    "There's a service hatch right behind the curtain on-stage. We can use that."
    "Show the way." Lyn and June followed the security guards. By use of a maintenance access way, the group made it inside the ballroom. They emerged from a floor-mounted hatch on the rear half of the stage. A heavy pair of stage curtains separated the group from Katrina. Quietly, Lyn parted the curtains. She saw Katrina in her costume, knowing instantly that something was off-kilter. It was as if someone else was in her body, radiating all sorts of bad-vibe energy. Lyn felt goose bumps when she heard Katrina speak in a frigid voice.
    "Now for the last one. You can't hide from my power." Katrina looked out upon the chaos she had wrought. Save one, all the women in the ballroom were affixed with awesome bosoms. Immobilized by their unnaturally heavy norks, the women were being pleasured with kisses and fondling from the men. The intensity the men performed their caressing and nipple sucking was usually reserved for the privacy of a bedroom. Not so in this case. "Carmen, my best friend on the show. I've saved you for last! Remember that gag you pulled on me last season? You replaced my plastiskin boobs with a pair of your own. After wearing them for an hour, my body heat caused the gas inside them to expand . . . and then explode!"
    Carmen was hiding behind three of her inflated co-workers. She bawled like a baby. "Katrina, I said I was sorry! I put too much gas in those fake boobs! You don't know how bad I felt when you were hospitalized, getting those two ribs fixed up! Forgive me! Please!"
    "Forgiveness is for the weak!" Katrina found the source of Carmen's voice. "I'll make your boobies so big and heavy that you'll fight for each breath!" With the Scepter of Supplication extended, Katrina made her final invocation. "Humble is to be one with the earth. Embrace it like you would a lover."
    Flat on her back, Carmen yelped in discomfort as her breasts swelled and filled to the size of sofas. Two huge fleshy spheres, rising almost two meters off the floor, had Carmen effectively immobilized. Woolworth, the only male partygoer without a female mountain to fondle, zeroed in on Carmen like a moth to a flame. Scrambling up the flesh, Woolworth settled on Carmen's left tit. He commenced to suck from the incomparably tiny nipple, inducing the beleaguered woman to moan appreciatively.
    Lyn had seen enough. With June at her side, and Howes filming away, the little officer pushed the curtains aside. "Katrina! This is Officer Wilcox of the New Darwin Police!" She stepped forward, her hand hovering close to her stun-gun holster. "Why have you done this? You made this place into the largest breast pleasure palace on the planet!"
    With the same cold look she gave to her victims, Katrina stared at her friend. Lyn was now convinced that it wasn't Katrina that did the talking. "Ah! You've come to join the party, I see. And you brought friends." The two studio guards made their presence known, walking carefully up to the actress. "Let me take care of those two men first. I want to deal with you and June alone." A wave of the scepter made the two guards fly through the air. The mysterious force that possessed Katrina made the guards land gently on the beanbag breasts of two women. Like Woolworth, the guards sucked upon the offered nipples like they were babies. The women couldn't help but feel free and happy, moaning with sensual delight.
    Katrina cackled. "Look around you, Lyn. The feelings of lust and passion in this room are as thick as steam." She hugged herself as if she was cold. "This body is so sexy and potent. I am most fortunate to be in this body. Katrina had the perfect opportunity for me to feed." The voice in Katrina's body sounded a bit lustful. "I've waited for years to replenish my energy. This body," Katrina cupped her armor pasty-covered breasts, "will be my vessel in which I shall collect that energy. When the lust and satisfaction of my audience reaches its peak, I shall be sated."
    June edged her hand closer to her dedicated stunner. "Just what will happen to Katrina? What did she do to deserve this?"
    "She needed my help years ago, and I offered mine. Only by my intervention was she able to become a star." The possessed actress shoved out her chest. "I will collect my due. If she's strong, then nothing will happen when I'm finished collecting my energy."
    Lyn's fingertips made contact with the grip of her stun gun. "And if she's not strong?"
    Katrina just grinned. "Then this body will fail and die. Before it does, I shall make you two join the others. Your lust and pleasure will be harvested for my benefit. That man there," she pointed to Howes, who had moved to the side to get a better shot, "will pleasure you both. Or you can pleasure each other. It doesn't matter to me." She smiled an evil smile.
    "That does it! We're not lesbos!" Lyn drew her stun gun, as did June. Both fired as one. Those hits had no effect whatsoever. Katrina's body was still smiling.
    "Useless," said the voice frigidly. "Katrina's body is impervious to your weapons. Now you shall begin your pleasuring." The scepter was pointed toward the buxom duo. "Humble women do not need to wear their pride on their chests." At that, Lyn and June's jackets and shirts were ripped off by an invisible force. Only the police-issued bras remained on the buxom duo's chests.
    Katrina made a frown. "How can this be? You two should be on the floor, tending to giant, pleasure-enducing breasts."
    Lyn looked indignant, her bra-clad bosom heaving with righteous energy. "It's called the power of faith, you foul spirit! Mr Big can't corrupt me and June, and it'll be an extra-cold day in Hell before you can even tempt us!"
    Scowling, Katrina gazed at the officers. She then had a growth spurt, her bust tripling in size. The armor pasties now looked like oversized silver buttons on fleshy domes. Judging from her chilled laughter, the duo was sure that the possessed Katrina inflated herself just to mock them. They were right. "If you will not willingly give your lust to me, then I shall take it by force!" Like a minx, Katrina launched herself at the officers.
    Lyn was surprized by Katrina's agility and speed. The possessed woman should've lost her balance now that she had watermelon breasts. Instead, she had the same skill of big-bust maneuvering, and fighting, that Lyn and June possessed. The entity in Katrina's body had to be responsible.
    The entity also made use of Katrina's nimbleness, hitting June squarely in the abdomen. The tall officer fell backwards, her bra-clad bust shimmed as she landed on her bottom. Lyn landed a punch on Katrina's chin. She might as well have hit a brick wall. Holding her hand in pain, Lyn stepped backwards while Katrina advanced.
    "Don't run, Lyn. You cannot resist my power." Katrina's bust expanded again. From collarbone to crotch, the front of Katrina's body was a pair of beachball breasts. The armor pasties were little more than silver dots that covered the nipples.
    June got back on her feet. "Katrina! Don't make me do something that we'll both regret later!"
    The possessed woman only spared a sideways glance. "Aren't you supposed to be doing something?" With a yelp, June found herself flying backwards into the crowd. She landed in cleavage belonging to a pair of beanbag breasts. Try as she might, June couldn't extract herself from the impromptu fleshy prison.
    Lyn made herself look into the cold eyes of her friend. She recognized a barely perceptible flicker of the woman she knew. "Katty, I know you're in there. I want to help you. Together we can destroy the evil spirit that's taken over your body."
    The voice laughed. "Destroy? Ha! I can never be destroyed. I'm as resilient as diamond, and you lack the power to even scratch my surface."
    "But a diamond can be cleaved in two by a well-placed cut."
    "You had your say," snorted the voice. "Now you shall enter some cleavage of female kind!" Katrina swelled for a third time, gaining breasts worthy of a pillow woman. The pasties flew off her front like lids over boiling pots of water. "I will smother the lust out of you!"
    "Eeep!" Lyn found herself drawn forward by a set of invisible hands. Katrina's beanbag breasts parted slightly as Lyn drew closer. For the short officer, it was like a scene from ancient myth, where the Argo approached the Symplegades. Lyn definitely didn't want the breath crushed out of her, either by giant rocks or fleshy mountains.
    "If you don't resist," chortled Katrina, "then your time in my cleavage will be a pleasant one."
    "Like Hell!" Lyn was now stuck between the breasts. The feeling was akin to being pressed by two sacks filled with wet sand. Her arms stuck, Lyn could only give harsh looks at Katrina.
    "Give in to the feeling, Lyn. You won't regret it."
    Lyn adverted her gaze from Katrina's conceited face, choosing to focus on the tiara instead. The fake gemstone on that tiara was as pretty as Lyn remembered it. Blue in color, Lyn wondered if the crafted piece of glass was still cold to the touch from the time she handled it years ago. Cold! Lyn thought furiously. The spirit possessing Katrina spoke and had the attitude of ice. What if the gemstone wasn't a fake? What if . . .
    Empowered by her righteousness and faith, Lyn pulled her right arm free of Katrina's constricting cleavage. With lightning swiftness, Lyn snatched the gemstone off of Katrina's tiara. The stone was intensely cold, fit to freeze flesh down to the bone. Ignoring the numbness, Lyn gripped the gemstone. She squeezed, the sharp edges of the stone cutting into her hand.
    The look on Katrina's face was that of sheer terror. "Noooo!! Let that go!" The spirit was very upset. "I beg you to stop!"
    That was all that Lyn needed to know. One quick squeeze had the gemstone shatter into tiny fragments. Katrina exhaled strongly, her breath as cold as an arctic wind. The spirit left her body for good. As quickly as the evil entity departed, the endowments on the female guests were restored to normal.
    June, freed from her impromptu prison, stood up and took stock of the situation. "That was incredible, Lyn. How did you know that destroying the gemstone was the key?"
    Lyn looked at her hand, finding no signs of frostbite and cuts she fully expected to see. "Well, I somehow knew that the gemstone and the spirit were connected in some way. Either the guy upstairs gave me a nudge in the right direction, or . . . "
    "Or what?" June said playfully as she got on stage.
    "Or that I recalled a plot point from a cheesy horror movie I saw when I was a kid. If you were in my place, you would've done the same thing."
    "No doubt. Crushing a big gem in my hands was something I always wanted to do. If it was a lump of coal, I would've made a diamond."
    Lyn went over to Katrina, getting down on one knee. "Hey, Katty, wake up," she said softly into her friend's ear.
    With surprized eyes, Katrina awakened. "Oh my," she said, glancing down at her 32H chest. Her bust hadn't shrunk to its 'normal' 32B size. She blushed, realizing her silver armor pasties were missing. "I'd thought I was a goner for sure. My guts felt like they were frozen solid. Had that thing stayed in me for much longer . . . "
    "Save your strength, Katty. You're going to need it." Lyn poked Katrina's right breast. "The norks you have now are here to stay."
    Katrina squeezed her left tit, finding that the sensation, the feeling, to be altogether natural. "Oh God! These breasts are real. What happened to the plastiskin?"
    Lyn failed to smother her grin. "Seems like the evil spirit saw fit to leave you with real norks. The digital editors will have their hands full now. Unless, of course, the script writers come up with a plausible explanation why Naoko suddenly got a volleyball bust."
    "You silly," giggled Katrina. Lyn joined in with a giggle of her own.
    The first batch of backup officers arrived, finding a ballroom filled with topless women and pleasure-sated men. June, retrieving her collar-com from her ruined jacket, made a call to Dispatch for extra police blankets. Call complete, she crossed her arms over her bust and checked up on Howes. The OBN cam-op had an open-mouth expression fit for a large bass. "Howes," June said, "are you all right?"
    "I will be . . . in a minute." Howes massaged his jaw muscles. "Some of the film I took for Bronze was in the Box and similar places on other Commonwealth planets. What I've just seen here outranks them in raunchiness." With his video gear still running, Howes continued to film. "Hey, that's Mr Rollins. He's the producer of Badge of Bronze."
    "Is that right?" June looked at the man, and found him particularly attractive. Then she remembered her lack of a shirt. She tried to shield her bra-clad glories as best she could, but her activity only gained the attention of Mr Rollins. He slinked on over, acting as if nothing had happened to him, or to anyone else in the ballroom for that matter.
    "Hi there, gorgeous," said Rollins, his eyes roving all over June like she was a four-course dinner plate. "That's a nice costume you're wearing. It's amazing that you didn't get as big as the others."
    "Mr Rollins," June added quickly, "I'm not a party guest. I'm . . . "
    "Don't say it, dear. You're a party crasher, hoping to rub elbows, or other body parts, with the talent in this room. Let me get you started." Abruptly, Rollins glommed June's considerable assets. And, just as abruptly, he found himself on the floor in an unconscious state, courtesy of June's fists. No-one can glom June's chest without her permission.
    In an hour the ballroom was cleared of guests. With relief, Howes turned off his camera gear. He doubted that his recording would ever see the light of day.

[Epilogue]

"Wow," said Trent. "Mom never told us that part of the story before. She said that nothing really happened that Halloween night."
    Felly nodded. "And now you know. She wanted you two young pups to be mature enough to handle the truth." The wise woman's grin made both Trent and the over-ample Marsha blush. "To quote an ancient media personality, here's 'the rest of the story'. Rollins wanted to sue June for 'police brutality', but dropped the charge once he saw Howes' recording of the ballroom. You see, Rollins was fondling the outsized bosom of a 17-year-old Nude Attack Woman fan. The defense of being under the influence of an evil spirit just couldn't cut the mustard in any court. As for the film, it became the property of your mother, who in turn gave it to me for safe keeping."
    On the couch, Kayla smiled as she handed the now-sated baby Trevor to David. "Felly, how did Katrina deal with her H-cup breasts? Did they go with digital editing?"
    "They certainly did, Kayla. For the last five seasons the show ran, the producers employed digital editing. Fighting scenes were simplified, since Katrina was already 'endowed'. That was the phrase the makeup people had used when Katrina put on her plastiskin breasts."
    Marsha snapped her fingers. "Oh, now I remember where I saw Katrina before. She's the star of My Cup Runneth Over."
    "You're right, my dear. When Nude Attack Woman was finished in 2418, Katrina took the part of the Angelican housewife in My Cup Runneth Over. Of course, she got a 'proper' enlargement via nanites. She looks quite pretty with an Angelican front."
    "And Cup is still the most popular sitcom on OBN." Marsha stretched her arms. "I wonder if Katrina will make herself smaller again."
    "If the show is going to stay consistent with Angelican culture," Felly said, "then it will happen when Katrina's character becomes a grandmother. She'll reduce herself to a D-cup at that time."
    "That sounds right. I can't wait to get back to normal. I'm tired of having dachies getting stuck at the bottom of my cleavage."
    Trent stood up, frowning. "Don't tell me that Snarl fell down your cleavage again."
    "He sure did, Trent. I'd appreciate if you would pull him out."
    "Why does Snarl keep getting stuck down there?"
    Marsha grinned. "Don't you know? That's where I keep my seedcone cookies. I had to hide them from a certain cookie thief. But Snarl can get to places that a certain thief can't."
    "I never stole your cookies," Trent said defensively, his face proclaiming his guilt.
    "Sure you didn't," Marsha said. Aside from Trent, everyone in the room had a good laugh.
 

END

37

Thanks to The Surgeon for providing the Badge of Bronze graphic.
Thanks to Sheber and Stingray for their editing help.