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

1

By the calendar it was 2464. New Ayers Rock, Outback's moon, looked just as desolate as it did 350 years earlier. Only the moon's deposits of uranium, diamonds, and other assorted gems coaxed people to live on the airless world. There was just one major city, named Tazland, and it held three-fourths of New Ayers Rock's population of 534,000. Subterranean both by nature and design, Tazland had many caverns that recreated environments found on Outback and Earth. The only surface evidence of the city was the shuttleport and several kilometer-wide domes made of clearsteel and lunar titanium.
    Nicknamed the Underground by its inhabitants, Tazland did have sections that looked like normal cityscapes. The difference was that the sky was only 500 meters high and holopanels provided the illusion of clouds and sunlight. Air-conditioning systems created wind for the man-made environment. Even hot summer days were lovingly reproduced for the city dwellers. The wholesale creation of snow and rain was considered impractical, much to the relief of Tazlandians.
    In a particular area of the city designated for adult entertainment one would find an establishment called The Cotton Tail. Associated with the Cotton Tail in New Darwin, this establishment had a service kept alive for centuries on Earth in a quaint little place called Japan. It actually started in North America, but due to societal changes it practically died out. Only in Japan did the service continued, and when the colonization of space commenced the service, backed by Japanese businessmen, followed in its wake. That service was the bunny girl hostess.
    Carl Sakamoto was the manager of the Cotton Tail. Referred by his employees as Sak for two reasons, Sakamoto was a definite believer of teamwork. So much so that when it came time for a long-overdue renovation of the Cotton Tail he had his employees participate. He didn't exempt himself from the work, for he appeared early the first day of the renovation in faded jeans, a baseball cap in the rally position, and a T-shirt that had the faded words 'bass master' on the front. Given Sak's pot belly and outwardly jovial face such a getup would've produced a giggle, but the employees knew better. Sak fired people at the drop of a hat, hence one reason for his nickname.
    "G'day, mates," said the Cotton Tail manager to his employees. "Today is the first day of the renovation work, so I expect to see evidence that you had participated in that work."
    "Will dirty hands count?" said Bridgette, the chief bunny girl hostess. "Or will swear words do? All this manual labor can and will lead to broken nails and pinched fingers."
    "Covered by the medical plan and attended by our physician on call." Sak said with silky smoothness. "This will be no worse than working on bonus days and the holidays. Only this case you won't have inebriated patrons spilling drinks down your fronts."
    "At least we got tipped in compensation." Bridgette cupped and lifted her shirt-clad mammaries for emphasis. "What do we get for doing this work?"
    "Free dinner on me and the sense of a job well done. Now, if there's no further questions let's get started. The sooner we start . . . "
    . . . the sooner we'll finish. Same old belch and gas, Bridgette thought to herself. She and her fellow bunnies went to their assigned areas of the Cotton Tail's dining area and began removing the fixtures. The chairs were easy enough, as were the first set of bench cushions in the semi-private alcoves. When it came to the second set of cushions, Bridgette brought out her pair of gloves. Cleaning was the job of the maintenance staff, but when Mr. Sakamoto retrieved a dropped pen from underneath an alcove bench he brought up a dust bunny with it. So, he gave the maintenance staff the sack when it came time for the renovations. Even now Bridgette could hear Sak talking to the new maintenance staff, instilling the need to keep the place clean like it was opening day every day.
    "Ouch!" Came a cry from beyond the alcove wall. Upon investigating Bridgette found her friend and fellow bunny girl Roxie nursing a broken fingernail. "It was a natural nail too. Took me months to prep it." The short blonde held the hurting finger up to the light. "What did they use to anchor the cushions to the benches? Maxiglue?"
    "Bubblegum. Or centimeter-thick layers of dust that's turned to cement." Bridgette looked at the offending cushion. "This looks like a job for some sonic agitation." She fished out what appeared to be a tire air pressure gauge from her overall pocket. Pressing a recessed button along the gauge's side, she ran the device along the dividing line between the cushion and the bench. Task complete, she then gripped the front of the cushion. "Now let's give it a try." With a solid yank the offending leather-covered foam-filled pad was liberated from its decades-old post.
    "That's a Maxiglue stain if there was one," said Roxie as she was handed the cushion that costed her a nail. "Applied sloppily as well. Hey, what's that?"
    Bridgette looked where Roxie was pointing toward. It was a hole in the bench, just large enough to put a hand through. Her hand, most likely. "Ugh. With a hole like that I don't blame the use of Maxiglue. Whoever installed the bench must've made it and glued the cushion down to cover it." Another reach into her overall pocket produced a small flashlight. "Here now, let's see what horrid dust bunnies await in there."
    She shined the light down at the hole. Something glinted at the bottom of the bench. Bridgette leaned down for a closer look. "Hey, that looks like a lighter. Probably belonged to the installers way back when."
    "Go ahead and take it," said Roxie. "My hand can't fit."
    Even with her small hands Bridgette couldn't make a fist around the lighter to bring it up. It would've been like the fable of the monkey with the coconut. Using just two fingers, and five attempts, she finally brought her quarry up into the light for her and Roxie to see. It wasn't like the lighters used by the bunnies, for it was larger and noticeably heavier. Bridgette shook the grime-pocked device next to her ear and actually heard the fuel moving around in its tiny tank.
    "Bridgette, you think it still works?"
    "I would think so, but not right now. I'll check it out back home." Bridgette slipped the lighter into her pocket. "Best get back to work, or else Sak will act out his nickname again."
 

2

Bridgette's apartment in Tazland suited one whose income was more than 45,000 credits a year, especially since half of that came from tips. Located in the central cavern of Tazland proper the apartment was on the tenth and top floor of an uptown apartment complex. A long balcony gave a good view of 'downtown' Tazland and the vast panel-covered ceiling. Bridgette was out on that balcony for a moment, looking up at the fake sky and its projection of stars and Outback. The effect of planetglow was reproduced, giving the same light level at dusk on a planet.
    After twelve hours of work it was enough to take one look 'outside' before heading back inside for a well-deserved shower. At 158 centimeters Bridgette was at the average height for a Cotton Tail bunny girl. Sakamoto was responsible for that, believing that even the shortest male patron had to be taller than the bunnies. Another similarity was relative bust size. Freeing herself from the sweat soaked and grim marred T-shirt in the bathroom, Bridgette gave her breasts a once-over in the mirror before turning on the bath. When clad in her bunny hostess outfit her 32J bustline looked all the larger on her short frame. She had a natural cleavage able hold cigarette lighters firmly. That wonderful flesh canyon also hosted transaction cards filled up to and sometimes more than 500 credits worth of tips.
    Sakamoto wanted 'reasonable' bust sizes on his girls. Anything larger than what Bridgette carried around would be too distracting. There were bunnies who wanted to be as big as the basketball-bosomed Moonquake girls, the Cotton Tail's rivals when it came to shapely hostesses, but Sak was adamant. Non-sanctioned betting in the Cotton Tail was forbidden, even for something as innocent as a melon-laden bunny busting out of her top due to a deep inhale. So, when it came time to hire new bunnies, natural busty beauties (such as Bridgette) were chosen first. Those that had the looks but not bust size were given nanite augmentations at a discount, then covered for the remainder with weekly deductions of their paychecks. Girls who were 'too big' to begin with were not hired. To make those breasts smaller would be, in Sak's opinion, a crime against beauty. If anything, breasts were the only thing deserving to get bigger on a woman's body. Sak's mistresses fit that philosophy well, for each new one was taller, and bustier, than the last.
    After a wonderful soak in the tub the brown-haired woman put on her pajamas' bottoms. Then she plopped herself down on the carpet in front of her home theater tri-dee projector. Then she remembered something, snapping her fingers. "Now that's what I wanted to do when I got home. Cleaning that lighter I found," she said out loud. Her pet cat, a calico named Sneak, stirred only briefly from her perch on a throw pillow before going back to sleep. In a minute Bridgette returned, still topless but now equipped with the lighter, a rag and a small scrubbing brush. Turning on the tri-dee to a news channel just for some background noise, Bridgette cleaned the lighter.
    Now with more time to think, Bridgette reflected that this was a large lighter indeed. The ones used by the bunnies where transparent, thin, and long. In contrast, the lighter she was cleaning took up most of her hand. Thin, true, but its breadth was made for the hand of a big man. Volume wise it held the same amount of lighter fluid as a regular lighter, but constructed of metal it was heavier. Bridgette knew that even her firm front would be tested by this lighter's weight. It was a faux pas for a bunny to fish for a lighter that slipped down to the base of her cleavage.
    After ten minutes of studious work the woman cleaned the lighter to the point that it shined. The top of the lighter still refused to budge. Another quick trip to the bedroom brought the sonic agitator she used earlier at the Cotton Tail. "Maxiglued the top as well," Bridgette said to herself as she worked the agitator over the separation line. "Certainly prevented accidental fires if nothing else." Now it just took a slight effort to open the lighter. She tired to make it work, but to no avail. "Well, it has fuel and the igniter looks okay. Might as well give it a rub of bunny luck and try again."
    Bunny luck was a tradition started in those Cotton Tail franchises that featured gambling, such as the one in Tazland. Rubbing a pair of dice on the exposed portions of a bunny hostess' breasts was believed to increase a gambler's chance of success. With aplomb Bridgette rubbed the lighter on the top of her right breast. Opening the still-shiny device, she gave the igniter a try. It worked, and the resulting flame shot up two centimeters.
    Bridgette's sense of achievement was short-lived. The flame abruptly changed to a column of purple smoke. She instinctively took the ill-acting lighter to the kitchen, dropped it into the sink and started the tap. Just as suddenly as it started the smoke stopped, the lighter just barely covered by water. "That was weird," she said, poking the thing with a butter knife. "That kind of smoke couldn't have been made by lighter fluid."
    "Because it wasn't lighter fluid." The voice uttering those words was male and in the same room. Bridgette whirled, finding a strange man sitting Indian-style on top of her kitchen table, smoking a cigar and wearing a gaudy purple and black robe. A set of cheesy gold chains hung around the man's neck, and a two-day shadow covered his tanned face. From Bridgette's perspective, the man was the fabled 'lounge lizard' made flesh. The man obligingly affirmed her opinion. "I don't know where I am at the moment, but the view I have now is quite fine."
    In a reflex move Bridgette covered her ampleness with her arms, remembering just then that she was still without her pajama top. "Just who in the bleedin' hell are you?"
    The stranger scratched his head with a finger adorned with no fewer than three obnoxiously large gold rings. "Bleedin' hell? The accent's familiar. Aussie?"
    "More than just an accent. I'll show you the wrong side of a thornbush if you don't leave right now, pervert. Shirt or no shirt."
    "I prefer shirts." The man snapped his fingers. A surprized Bridgette found herself wearing a generous white shirt that stretched to the tips of her fingers and down to her thighs. Her exclamation was pre-empted by the man. "Before you call the 'bobbies' let me say something. By releasing me from that lighter I've become your servant, your genie. With powers granted by my predecessor I can grant any wish . . . within reason."
    Bridgette folded her arms. "Would that include having you buzz off?"
    "As I said, Master, within reason. My last master abused my powers, and when I objected too much he had me sealed up within the lighter and hid it. Tell me, where was I found? At the bottom of an ocean? In the foundation of a building being tore down?"
    "Under a bench at the Cotton Tail, city of Tazland on the moon New Ayers Rock." Bridgette went to the kitchen vid-panel and tried to dial out, but to no avail. She eyed the stranger suspiciously.
    "Master, let me finish my story first. Then you can call the authorities, who in turn will find nothing." The man disappeared with a snap of his fingers, leaving Bridgette perplexed. Holograms, hypno-suggestive drugs, and a long day's work she told herself. But the shirt certainly felt real enough. "Nice layout," came the man's voice, this time from the living room. "Do you get American Football on this fancy TV or just this lame soccer crap?"
    Bridgette charged into the living room, finding the self-proclaimed genie floating in midair, holding the manual remote to the tri-dee. "For a hologram you have a saucy mouth. I will call the Police unless you can really prove you're not a bad piece of food working its ill on me."
    "As you wish, Master. My previous master would've found you a tasty dish, but a bit on the small side. Let this be further proof of my reality and powers." He snapped his fingers.
    "Gawwwh!" Bridgette exclaimed. Her genie-supplied shirt was gone, exposing her breasts. Her already voluminous bosom was now easily the size found on a Moonquake girl. "No way this can be a bad potato acting on me." She remembered her modesty and covered her breasts with her arms as best she could. It looked like a scene from a big breast aficionado magazine. A short slender woman hugging what could be mistaken for flesh colored basketballs close and tight to herself. "You've proven quite enough. Now restore me."
    "Why not try them out for a day, Master? They look quite agreeable on you."
    "Because people tend to notice radical increases in breast sizes in my line of work."
    "Which line of work would that be, Master? You did mention the Cotton Tail. Are you a bunny hostess?"
    "Stop calling me Master, and give me that shirt back." In a moment the genie snapped his fingers and Bridgette's prodigious front was clad in a shirt. Not the same one as before, but one much smaller. It made her look like a woman in a breast magazine again, but this time more like a balloon smuggler of lore. "I'm a bunny hostess, and my boss will blow his gob when he sees me busting out of my suit. Head hostess or not I'll lose my job." Given the tight fit of the shirt, it was no wonder the old-fashioned buttons flew off when she drew in a modest breath of air.
    "You'll be the only one who'll know of the change . . . Mistress. Oh yes, I like saying the word Mistress far better than Master." The genie's smile showed that he had sparkly white teeth. "I can alter reality to a certain extent. Everyone who knows you will have the knowledge that you've always been endowed as you are now."
    "I'll still be bigger than the other bunnies," Bridgette countered.
    "Only because you're the head hostess. I made it so that your boss requires his top bunny to be 'bigger' than just in title only. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must retire. Summon me tomorrow night and tell me about your day of largeness." With that the genie turned into a pillar of purple smoke and flew into the kitchen. Bridgette followed, her bouncing bust causing the few remaining buttons to fly off and join their brethren on the floor.
    "Give me back my boobs. You pervert!" Bridgette fished the lighter out of the sink and rubbed it over her now-exposed left tit. "Get out of there or I'll break this thing open."
    "No can do, Mistress. This lighter can't be destroyed," came a muffled reply from within the lighter. "One of the few perks of being a genie is that my existence can't be snuffed out. Also, I can only be summoned after a reasonable amount of time. I've already given my word that I can be summoned in a day's time. That part of my power which makes me a genie will ensure that my word is kept."
    "Genie, ha! You haven't told me your name."
    "Tomorrow, Mistress. Go get some sleep. Otherwise, it will just be more than the bags under your eyes that will sag."
    Bridgette stewed for a moment as she clenched the lighter in her hand. She had no doubt about the genie's word, but he was supposed to obey her commands if he really was one. Bridgette knew something of ancient Middle Eastern mythology from university. A genie was a variation, a derivative, of the Djinn, creatures who had the power to grant their master's wishes. The genie was a tame thing compared to a Djinn, which would try anything to trick, or kill, its master to set itself free. This thing residing now in the lighter didn't do anything like that . . . yet. Yet Bridgette considered having a lecherous genie better than having a Djinn bent on freedom.
    Back in her spacious bedroom Bridgette placed the lighter in a jewelry box. The shirt she wore, sans buttons, was tossed into a clothes processing machine. In the morning the garment would be mended and ready to wear, but so long as Bridgette played host to her new mass she couldn't wear it without busting those buttons off again. She then looked at her reflection in the full-length mirror she kept in a corner. "Heaven's help, that's some cleavage I have now," she said. "I'll need rope and tackle to fetch a lighter that slips to the bottom of this curvy valley." Knowing that her pajama top wouldn't fit her now the enhanced bunny hostess went to bed topless and tried to believe that it was just a bad dream after all.
 

3

Morning came and went, leaving Bridgette with the concrete reality of her genie-provided breasts. She kept to her routine, doing thirty complete laps around the apartment complex. At first she thought she would be unable to do so since her sports bras couldn't hope to cover what she had now. Surprize and a measure of alarm filled her when she inspected those bras as well as the rest of her wardrobe. All of it had been resized to fit her new bust. On a hunch, she checked the old-fashion photo album she kept in her dresser drawer. She gummed her lips when she flipped to the page that had pictures of her as a 13-year-old, the year she started her growth spurt. At 15 Bridgette reached her full development, but the pictures of her at 16 made her think again. It was her body all right, but the bosom under the stretched fabric of the pictured girl was just as large as one she had now.
    It doesn't need to be a dream, Bridgette thought as she slipped into her jogging suit. I could've fallen into a parallel universe for all I know. Or maybe this is the dream world where people in comas go to. Who knows? Well, let's see how the people in the streets react to me.
    Despite the obvious extra mass wobbling underneath her jogging sweats no one seemed to notice, or at least pretended not to notice. Still, the group of school children she encountered each weekday morning during her run acted normally. They would've said something for sure, just as they had done last week when she got a new headband. After returning to the apartment and showering Bridgette steeled herself for another test as she went out again to do grocery shopping and kept a hair appointment. Once again there were no awkward reactions from the acquaintances she knew. Then again, there were a fair number of busty women in Tazland, and Tazlanders never made a fuss about a person's appearance so long as they worked and contributed for the good of the city.
    Then at 1:00 p.m. it was time to go to work. A section of the Cotton Tail was still open for business during the renovation. It was a private dining room converted to table seating for the interim, for it had already been updated the month before. The bunnies were working on reduced shifts and alternating workdays . . . except for Bridgette. She had to be on-shift six days a week, and that meant meeting and talking with Sakamoto on a face-to-face basis.
    It was with some trepidation that Bridgette arrived and went to the Cotton Tail's employees' locker room. Since the genie saw to it that she had modified clothes, Bridgette expected the same thing at work. "Oh, hard hell, this isn't going to work," she cursed. The top of the bunny hostess suit was still at the old size. It would be a jiggle and bounce fest if she put the thing on. She had no choice, for Sakamoto was already waiting for her in the dining area.
    With a collective breath Bridgette stood in front of one of the locker room's full-length mirrors. The red high heels and black fishnet stockings were in good order as were the famous bunny ears, a shirtless white collar with black bow tie and sleeveless cuffs and gold cufflinks. As for the suit itself . . . apart from the light fur trim on top and around the leg holes it could've been taken as a modest one-piece swimsuit. On Bridgette the suit became a tortured container for her outsized bosom. The amount of exposed top and side breast flesh was far more appropriate for the beach. She was glad that the nipples were covered, barely, and even then she applied body paste to ensure her suit front stayed in place.
    Sakamoto was waiting by register counter in the dining room. He was in his regular formal black suit and tie. Still, the short Japanese man, with his trimmed beard and puffy cheeks, reminded Bridgette of a high school freshman on his first date. For some reason it was that look that enabled Sakamoto to land dates with the women he wanted. "Ah, Bridge," he said, using the woman's nickname. "I see you've recovered well from the work yesterday. Well, for the next two weeks the workload will be quite light by comparison. Roxie and Alicia will be here for the complete shift. Hanna and Pauline will help during the dinner and evening shift."
    Bridgette made a mental sigh. God, the genie's right after all. If so much as a piece of lint was on her suit Sak would've said so . . . loudly. She folded her arms under her now formidable assets. "Sounds good, Mr. Sakamoto. I'll be glad when the work's completed and have the complete staff back to full time."
    "Yes. It will be nice to have the bunnies back in full force. I would have them all work full shifts for the next two weeks, but that would be overkill for the space available for us." Sak's sudden glance at Bridgette's cleavage made the little woman concerned for a moment. "Speaking of available space . . . " He opened a drawer under the counter and brought up a literal handful of cigarette lighters. "These are the lighters with the Cotton Tail logo. Be sure to give each customer one. If you run out, just get more from the drawer."
    Bridgette made herself smile whimsically as Sak placed lighter after lighter into her cleavage. A bunny was expected to keep one 'in hand' at all times while on the job. It seemed that the head bunny hostess in this genie-altered reality was expected to carry more. Far more. No less than fourteen lighters, in two rows of seven, filled her natural breast valley like a double column of marching men. The arrival of customers prevented Bridgette from thinking more about her predicament, but she was resolute about getting some answers from the genie tonight.
 

4

"Wake up, you wogger." Bridgette worked the large lighter over her naked bust. She was sitting at the kitchen table in the apartment, clad only in pajama bottoms and a firm resolve to summon the genie. Her shift ended two hours earlier, and for the last ninety minutes she's been patiently rubbing the lighter on and off. Business was brisk at the Cotton Tail that night. So much so that the petite hostess went through two complete refills of her lighter-filled cleavage. For a bunny to hand out 42 lighters in one shift was unusual, but for all the lighters to come from one bunny was unknown. Bridgette felt that had there been room then cigarette packs would've been added to her cleavage inventory. "It's high time for you to come out."
    Just then purple smoke issued forth from the lighter. The colorful cloud flew into the living room, prompting Bridgette to follow in a huffy march of indignation. She saw the genie sitting Indian-style on the couch, the tri-dee remote in his hand and watching yet another sports channel. "Hiya, Toots," said the smarmy-faced man. "So, was your day as unexciting as you thought it'll be?"
    "For everyone except me. Your little reality change had made these things as natural as reprocessed air." Bridgette gave her prodigious mounds a hefty shake for emphasis. "Now, keep your word and obey your mistress."
    "Certainly, Mistress. I'm glad you've come to accept me." A snap of the fingers brought the woman's chest down to its previous proportions. Bridgette picked up the photo album she left on the coffee table. A quick scan of the album gave relief, for it showed the return to normalcy Bridgette expected to see.
    "I accept your powers as real, not for what you put me through. Now, tell me your name and how you became a genie. Your clothing is definitely out of character for ancient Middle East mythology."
    The magical lounge lizard snapped a lit cigar into existence. He inhaled deeply on the stogy, and the exhale was prodigious, utterly filling the room with tobacco smoke. Before Bridgette could complain, she was startled to find the smoke gone . . . as well as her living room. In its place was a scene of a dining lounge from an ancient movie she once viewed while attending university. She couldn't quite place the scene, but she was sure it was somewhere in North America, Terra during the 1960's or 70's. She saw what looked like the genie sitting at a table with some other lounge lizard-type men. They were arguing about something. Bridgette and the genie were sitting at a nearby table, complete with glasses of wine and candle centerpiece.
    "That's me," said the genie, pointing at his double with the remote. "Bic Butaine, hardware salesman and lady killer extraordinaire."
    "You were a murderer?" Bridgette edged backwards ever so slightly.
    "Oh, hell no, Mistress. The vernacular must've changed in my years trapped in the lighter. I had a way with the ladies, making it so they couldn't get enough of me at any hour of the day and night."
    "Huh. With your looks you needed genie powers just to have women look at you."
    "Such a cruel thing to say, Mistress. You just had to have been there and seen me in action." The twinkle in Bic's eye was as bright as a diamond flash. Bridgette just thought of it as a gratuitous use of genie powers. "My friends and I were arguing the results of a football game when, out of nowhere, this freakin' little old man goes running past the table." Bic used the tri-dee remote like it was an ancient VCR control unit, fast-forward the scene to the point he mentioned. The old man he described was certainly freaky-looking to Bridgette's eyes, but somehow cute and even a little bit attractive in an odd way. Some of the Cotton Tail patrons certainly fit that description quite nicely. "He went by, and out came flying from his hand was the lighter. It landed in my lap, and before I could say anything the man was gone."
    "Then what happened?"
    Bic took another draw from his cigar, savoring the taste and smell of his stogy. "Well, that old fart was being chased by two showgirls from The Dunes, and man they were stacked. They were a bit more top heavy than even you. I found out later that they were undercover police women of the Las Vegas PD, but that wouldn't have stopped me from hitting on them . . . "
    "Hitting on them?"
    "Ugh, asking them to go out on a date, Mistress. Boy, I need to catch up on your sayings. Anyway, these two wonderfully breasted women asked if the old guy came running by. I pointed them in the right direction and off they went." A measure of lust filled Bic's eyes with delight. "They had shapely bottoms to go along with those fabulous breasts."
    "I haven't got all night. Get to the important stuff."
    Another draw on the cigar and Bic resumed his tale. "I didn't tell the police about the lighter, seeing that I found out the true secret about it later that night." He used his impromptu remote to advance the scene. This time it was a bedroom location, complete with one robed Bic and topless woman on a bed. "Back at my house I had my latest conquest all hot and bothered to do some bedroom boogie when my cigar went out. Well, I took my newfound lighter in hand and gave it a rub on her boobs to see if it was cool enough to make her nipples proud. You can imagine my surprise when out came a genie. A ravishing beauty of immense physical charms. I mean, she was falling out all over the place and her boobs could've fed an army of babies . . . "
    Bridgette picked up wine glass in front of her and splashed the contents on Bic's face. "Calm down. Don't go having trouser trama around me. Keep talking."
    "I'm kind of ashamed to go on, but since you ordered it I will." Bic placed his extinguished cigar in an ashtray and wiped his face with a napkin. "Ah, let's just say I let my libido get the best of me. I went on a one-man sex campaign for a full two years, using the genie to get any woman I happen to take a fancy to. Then, one night, she tricked me. I was as drunk as a dog, talking out loud and using her boobs as pillows. I wished really loud that I had her powers for myself. Then she made me sign something with my own blood. I thought it was a record of my alimony payments. Boy, was I ever wrong."
    "What I'm finding to be the most incredible part of this story so far was that you were once married." Bridgette snorted.
    Bic changed the scene again, this time to the lighter itself, sitting in a box that held other unique lighters. "Twice, actually, but that's beside the point. That genie and I switched places. She was tired of being a supernatural being and decided to become mortal. To do so, she had to find someone to take her place. Well, with some mystical mumbo-jumbo and that paper she made me sign I became that replacement. She kept me around for a few years as she worked as a stripper for an exclusive Las Vegas club. Then, one day, she placed me in a box with some other lighters and sold me at an auction. Over the centuries I was bought and sold many times, ending in one collection to another. As you found, I can only be summoned when rubbed on the skin of a woman's breast. Then, one day, that finally happened. Guess who became my new master."
    "That freaky little old man?"
    "Not just any old man, but some twisted old ferret called Mr. Big."
    Bridgette made a timeout sign with her hands. "Hold your shrimps over the barbie, mate. You don't mean the Mr. Big? One of most notorious super criminals and lecherous prunes of all time?"
    "The one and the same. I guess he recalled my face from the club, even though it was just for a moment when he lost the lighter and several centuries had past. After berating me for not turning the lighter to the club's lost and found box, he made up for lost time. I later learned he had no real need of my powers to attract women, but he used me just the same. Silly things like making a swimming pool out in the middle of a dessert for a midnight skinny dip. Cooking an elephant in an outrageously large oven. Eating the party guests' weight in gummy bears for a cheap laugh. It was getting on my nerves."
    "Mr. Big had a way on getting on people's nerves," Bridgette observed. "So, what happened that you ended underneath a bench in the Cotton Tail?"
    "He started to use me for the commission of crimes. Man, that was a bummer. One time he had me make all the women in a jewelry store strip down to their birthday suits. The men were so distracted and preoccupied that Big and his manservant Albert emptied the display cases and ran off. That was when I began to 'embellish' on his commands. I was perfectly willing to do silly tasks for him for all eternity, but robbing and committing grandiose crimes is an abuse of my powers. He got mad after the few attempts I made to stop him. Jesus, he's tougher to nail than a cockroach, and he kept coming back for more!"
    Bridgette hurumphed. "Didn't you realize that Big was immortal? I mean he was unchanged for all those centuries."
    "Cut me some slack, Mistress. It was only after he walked away from having a twenty-ton block of metal fall on him did I realize that I was in deep doo-doo. I think he would've put up with my shenanigans, but when I embarrassed him in front of his harem-of-the-week my fate was sealed. Literally."
    "Embarrassed Mr. Big? How did you do that?"
    "Some things are left best unsaid. Sufficient to say, Mr. Big put me in my place. He soon learned he couldn't destroy me either, so he glued my lighter shut and stashed me away in the nearest convenient place. Why he hid me at the Cotton Tail instead of dunking me into an active volcano, I'll never know." Bic's face turned several shades of pale in an instant. "Hey, is that horny old goat still around? If he knows I'm out and about . . . "
    "Don't you worry. That silly bastard's been dead for some 47 years now."
    "Oh, there is a god! How was it done? After all those decades of imprisonment I have at least that right to know."
    "He was lost in space after his massive asteroid ship was destroyed in 2417. Right now he's floating somewhere out in the trackless depths, immortal yet helpless for all time." Bridgette shifted forward in her seat, looking Bic straight in the eye. "Let me tell you something, genie. As for being your new master I have no intention of misusing you like Mr. Big did. However, if you 'embellish' on the commands I give, you'll find a prison more appropriate than underneath a bench. There's more than one active volcano on Outback, not to mention the ever-so-convenient trackless depths of space. So, let's get started now. End this magical picture show of yours."
    "As you command." Bic pressed a button on the remote, ending the illusion he created and returning himself and his mistress to the normalcy of the living room. "I must caution my mistress that I make good on all commands given to me. Wishes can only be asked of me when I'm out of my lighter, and I grant only one wish per day. When you turn a conscious desire into an outspoken wish, I will make it so . . . within the limits of my powers."
    "Just how extensive are your powers?" Bridgette said cautiously.
    "Nothing as overtly drastic as stopping the sun in the sky, Mistress. My two previous masters never really taxed my powers to that extent. Nor do I suggest you do so, simply for sanity sake."
    "I'll keep that in mind." Bridgette caressed the lighter gently in her hand. She made another decision. "For now you'll have the freedom of the living room and the entertainment system. You'll stay in the apartment unless I summon you or carry you around in the lighter."
    Back in his Indian sitting style Bic bowed his head. "As you command, Mistress. May I say that your level of modesty has undergone a marvelous adjustment. Do you go topless around men you become accustomed to?"
    Bridge slid an arm over her breasts so that her nipples where no longer winking at the genie. "A mistress can go around looking whatever she wants to be within her own castle." She stuck out her tongue like an impudent little girl. "Don't make comments about the obvious, Bic."
    "As my Mistress commands so I shall obey."
 

5

It was three days later. During the lull between the lunchtime and evening dinner crowds Bridgette took a rest in the bunny's break room. With her was Roxie, sitting across the table and taking an occasional draw on her cigarette. The change back to normalcy for Bridgette was as seamless as she expected. A few minor differences did show themselves, however. Instead of filling her cleavage with lighters Sakamoto had her wear a small pouch in place of her bunny tail. It was a more practical and less gratuitous arrangement to carry around a handful of lighters, but Bridgette couldn't shake the feeling that she was bringing lighters out of her bum every time she reached around for a new one. Eventually the promotional period will end, going back to carrying just one lighter at a time between her well-natural breasts.
    Roxie took a final draw on her cigarette, exhaling and then extinguishing the tobacco stick in an ashtray. "You know the one thing I hate about this job?" She asked Bridgette. "The utter lack of dateable men."
    "You mean the lack of cute men," Bridgette countered. "The money I'm going to hitch my wagon to has to have looks."
    "Oh, like that boy two months ago? He was cute, but the only reason he was here was because of his boss. 'For being the most productive miner of his section' I recall. He may be a diamond miner, but it's still the most hazardous profession on this moon. If anything, Bridge, snag an up-and-coming mining executive. They face far fewer risks."
    Bridgette harumphed. "Personally I like rugged men. That cutie has guts by going into the mines five days a week. Trusting his skill and full of faith that his vac suit won't get compromised. I would think he would find coming home to someone like me reward enough for a job well done."
    "Ah, sure you do." Roxie winked at her blushing friend. "You just want a big pair of hands on your yum-yums. Big, rough, calloused hands foundling your silky smooth muskmelons of desire."
    "You've been reading too many romance novels. Still," Bridgette said, "Sometimes . . . " she hesitated, caught up in the moment and thinking whimsical thoughts, "I wish I had the courage and asked for that cutie's contact number when I had the chance." A fraction of a second later she realized what she did, slapping a hand over her mouth in an utter futile attempt of denial.
    "What's wrong?" said Roxie.
    Bridgette recovered quickly. She noted that she now had a candy bar in her hand, and a valid explanation was born. "This particular brand of chocolate is rough on my sensitive teeth. Even so, I just had to get some sweets into me."
    "Like what you and Frank are going to do tonight?" Roxie teased.
    Oh damn, Bridge thought. I just had to leave Bic out of his lighter today! Now I'm stuck with entertaining a boyfriend that I don't know a thing about! "Oh, like you know anything Roxie."
    "Girl, where have you been? There's not enough time in the day for you to tell me all about Frank. At this rate you'll be accepting his red ribbon of engagement at the end of another two months."
    Ack! This is getting better and better. My wish-induced boyfriend is not only a miner but also Angelican. That carries certain relationship expectations that I'm not even sure I can fulfill! Me and my stupid wishful thinking! Now I'm stuck with a boyfriend for a day. This is where having two wishes a day instead of one would come in handy! "Oh," Bridgette said coyly as she stood up and tossed the half-eaten candy bar into a recycling machine. "Give me what you think about Frank," the name came out as naturally as she could make it, but it still felt strange for her to speak it. "After two months you're entitled to voice your opinion."
    "So the goddess descends from the clouds to be amongst the mortals," Roxie teased back. "Let me start by saying . . . "

In this current wish-altered world Bridgette found that she had somehow convinced Sakamoto to give her the evening off. It was rare for Sak to do so, even for the head bunny hostess, leaving Bridge to wonder what she had done in this reality to secure that request. She didn't dwell on that thought for long when she returned to the apartment. Bic was still sitting in front of the tri-dee. He hadn't moved for the last three days, watching to his heart's content all the American-style football he could find on the telenets.
    "G'day, Mistress," said the genie, using a piece of Outback vernacular he learned. "You were lucky in making such an innocent wish. Imagine the weirdness had you desired yourself to be six inches tall."
    "The only use for the Ancient English measure is for bra sizing." Bridgette began to undress as she walked into her bedroom. "Oh, why did I leave you out in the first place?"
    "You felt pity for me being cooped up for so long. I am grateful for the freedom you allowed me, Mistress."
    A few moments later Bridgette emerged, wearing informal house clothes. The jeans she had on were been well-used and accentuated the curves of her thighs and buttocks. As for the blouse, it was baggy and loose, the top four buttons undone so that a healthy swath of cleavage was displayed. "Thank God Roxie was able to tell me something about this wish-induced boyfriend I made for myself. She 'reminded' me on how this particular set of clothes is to Frank's 'immense' liking. I don't suppose there are photos or diaries I could read that will let me roleplay effectively tonight?"
    "Oh, those funny tri-dee things on your dresser are full of them. In this reality it seems you two can hardly keep your hands off one another."
    "You're impossible." Bridgette lobbed a throw pillow at Bic's head and went back to her bedroom. She found the small tri-dee projectors the genie described and activated them. "Ugh. I hate it when he's right." The small holographic images floating in front of her gave weight to Bic's assertion. Frank was short, burly-built man, scarcely five centimeters taller than Bridge. I bet he could lift ten times his own weight with arms like that, she mused. Frank's face was boyish and cute, and in the holograms it was quite clear he loved being in Bridge's presence. For the next few 'grams she gummed her lips in surprize as she took in what her altered self was doing. Seeing her own hand hooked onto and into the front of Frank's pants was quite telling on how she regarded her beau. In other 'grams she was actually pulling him along by his belt like a girl would walk an lethargic puppy. God, I'm going to have to act my part so well that I'll win the Jackalope Award for best scene in a comedy series! I have to be really careful or else I will really fall in love with this guy!
    "Mistress, there's someone at the door! Want me to open it?"
    "No! I'll do it." Bridgette retrieved the genie's lighter from her jewelry box and returned to the living room. "But first, in you go," she said while shoving the lighter in Bic's face.
    "As my Mistress commands." The lounge lizard genie turned into a pillar of purple smoke and returned to his lighter. Bridgette pocketed it and went to the front door. The security panel showed that it was Frank on the other side, wide-eyed and beaming. No doubt because he was just a few heartbeats away from being with his honey.
    Now it's acting time. Bridgette opened the door, a happy tooth-filled smile on her face. It turned into a genuine display of concern when she got a look of Frank's right arm. It was hanging in a sling, wrapped in a smart bandage from wrist to elbow. "Oh, how did that happen, Frank?" she said all so naturally.
    "Just another work related accident, Bridge." Frank's tone was somber and self-accusing. "Part of a scaffold fell, and I wasn't fast enough. My forearm was broken in two places. Good thing the integrity of my suit wasn't compromised. I'll be stuck with this smart bandage for a week."
    "Blessed be that it was just broken bones. You could've lost that arm if there was a rip in the suit." Bridge ushered her 'boyfriend' into the living room. "I lost my favorite uncle in a tunnel collapse ten years ago," she said as she made Frank comfortable on the couch. "What made you decide to be a diamond miner?"
    "Don't you know? That's one of the first things you've asked me," Fred said in playful admonishment. "It's part of my Angelican heritage. By working in a dangerous profession I'm affirming my commitment to that heritage. I'm proving my willingness to do whatever is necessary to provide for my family, or," a whimsical glint filled his eyes, "potential family."
    "Now I remember. Silly me. Want some ginger tea for starters?"
    Over the next two hours Bridgette spoke with Frank, asking subtle questions with such skill that Frank didn't know or didn't care he was being probed for information. A peculiar thought occurred to her. What if he's thinking all these inquiries are leading to something? What if . . . Hey, it's not like it's going to matter. I'll have my wish tomorrow and everything will be back to normal.
    "What's with that look, honey? That scrunched-up brow means you're thinking of something."
    "Oh, I'm thinking of something." Bridge looked at Frank's face and then at his arm. Since he's going to be 'gone' tomorrow I might as well have some fun. Heh. "Honey sweetcakes," she said with such saccharine it could've eroded teeth instantly, "want to watch some soccer? The New Darwin Thunderbolts are playing against the New Hong Kong Pandas."
    "That would be lovely, Bridge."
    She got up from the couch and stretched right in front of Frank, giving him a fine view of her briefly-stressed blouse. "It's on channel 505." She picked up the tri-dee remote and handed it to Frank, bending over so that his view of her cleavage was much improved. "Go ahead and turn it on. I'll freshen up a bit."
    "Turn it on. Sure," he said as he watched Bridgette slink away into her bedroom, admiring the way her jeans accentuated her cute, pinchable bottom. He assumed that his girlfriend was just going to use the toilet, but was proven utterly wrong. Clad in pink pajama bottoms and a smile, Bridgette returned to face a slightly red-faced Frank.
    "Want some beer and pretzels while watching the game?" She asked in an unassuming tone. Frank swore that her naked breasts stood out like bright beacons in a fog.
    "Ah, that would be nice. Thank you." Frank had the presence to say.
    Such a nice shade of red he's showing, she thought as she went to fetch the offered goods. She also decided to add a small incense candle to the mix. The smell of roses in the air would make the evening a more memorable experience, even though Bridgette would be the only one who'll know about it. A quick dash back to the bedroom produced the lighter. Mindful not to rub it on her breasts, she opened the still-shining appliance and lit the candle without incident.
    Frank's heartbeat rose slightly as Bridgette returned. She was carrying a tray, loaded with four cans of beer, a bowl of pretzels, and a small lit candle. Placing the tray on the coffee table, she then did something that Frank didn't expect. All the throw pillows and even a sofa cushion were picked up by the topless woman and arranged on the floor in front of the tri-dee projector. Leaving the candle on the table, she then put the tray on the floor next to the still-unexplained pillow mound.
    "What's that for?" He asked simply.
    "For you, silly," Bridgette grinned, her nipples winking at the man past the spread fingers she had over them. "You're in a period of convalescence, and need some bed rest. I see no difference between a bed with normal pillows and one equipped with these." She gave her ta-tas a shake. "Wouldn't you agree that these will make a better headrest than a Firmfill pillow?"
    "Yes, I should say so." Now standing, Frank took in the view as Bridgette positioned herself on the backrest of pillows she created. He wasn't quite ready to see his girlfriend in such a way, with only two months of steadily increasing contact. In an understandable swelling of male ego, he felt it was male charm and the innocence he projected due to his injury. Bridge may not be Angelican by upbringing, but she certainly knows what buttons to push. "But I'm a heavy fellow, I warn you."
    "What's a few extra pounds on a frame that's already conditioned to carry heavy loads?" She parted her cleavage in a most inviting manner. "Hurry up. Get down here. You're missing the game."
    "That I am. Silly me."
 

6

The pounding in Bridgette's brain finally caused the woman to wake up. With eyelids that felt as heavy as lead, Bridgette managed to take a peek at the tri-dee. It was still on, and by the chronometer in the upper left portion of the projection it was 4:11 a.m. She also felt that Frank was still on her, undoubtedly in a peaceful slumber. Ouch, my head. I can't even have two beers without getting a headache. Looks as if Frank is the same, unless . . . She managed a grin even though it caused her headache to flair up . . . I suggested that he stay for the night. It was fun while it lasted. Ten more hours and I'm back to being a free bachelorette. Only when getting up did she notice the radical change in her bustline.
    Damnation! What's this?! She thought so hard that it could've wakened Frank. Those aren't the kind of fleshmelons that'll fit into a 32J bra! She only saw the top part of Frank's head, lodged in the cleavage of two breasts worthy of an Angelican woman. Well, they looked watermelon size from where Bridgette was sitting. For all she knew they could've been larger.
    "Okay, Frank," she said softly, "Bridge wants to get up." She eased the sleeping beau out of her ampleness, her breast skin picking up the sensation of beard stubble from Franks face. It was unlike the feeling of abrasion paper, but it passed quickly as she put him down next to her. It was amazing that he still slept, but given what he had as pillows his sleep must've been very deep indeed. Then, with some hesitancy, Bridge stood up on the bare soles of her feet. Light from the artificial cast of planetglow poured into the living room, but it added little to her knowledge on just how big she was now. Taking slow, methodical steps, more out of her concern of balance than the lack of light, she made her way to the bathroom. She closed the door and turned on the light.
    "Great Jackalope!" she said in a restrained whisper. "I do have Angelican norks." The view in the bathroom mirror was impressive. Her breasts were as big and firm as one would find on an Angelican woman during her prime years. Even her nipples were the right proportion. Small and pert for babies to suckle from and for playful male hands to tweak during love play. "Bic has some explaining to do."
    "I guess I do."
    Bridgette looked around the bathroom and found another amazing site. It was Bic, scarcely twelve centimeters tall and taking a bubblebath in the sink. He had a silly showercap on his head and a number of equally-tiny rubber duckies floating around. Like an admonishing teacher Bic pointed his scrub brush as his giantess mistress. "Be more careful with your wishes, Mistress, especially with your ease in getting inebriated."
    "Now you hold on, you imp." Bridge moved closer the sink, the bottoms of her prodigious lungs actually making contact with the bathroom counter. "I had ten more hours before I could make another wish, yet here I am with proof that I had made another wish. A wish, mind you, that I have no conscious memory making."
    The miniature Bic waded through the sink to the edge where Bridge's breasts protruded slightly over the rim. In a genie-power leap Bic somersaulted four times up in the air before landing in an Indian sitting position on Bridge's left breast. The amazed woman was only slightly relieved to see that Bic's midsection was clad in a wet towel. Seeing the genie totally naked wasn't high on her list. "Perhaps I should elaborate. When I said one wish per day, I meant one complete cycle of the rising and setting sun. In this case, since New Ayers Rock goes by the length of Outback's day, your daily wish became available at 1:00 a.m. I don't count that 18-minute time period called compensate as an hour. More like an extended bathroom break than an hour . . . "
    "I don't have an hour for you to explain. In someone else's fantasy, having a tiny, wet lounge lizard on your breasts might be erotic. For me it's becoming a bad joke. Now, what happened?"
    "Well . . . Just let me say this without interruption, Mistress. You're normally a soda drinker, since your level of inebriation is quite low. Subsequently, you rarely drink any alcohol, and when you do it's only half a can of beer. Frank, however, is a beer drinker. In this altered reality you had a small stock of beer in your frig for those occasions you had Frank over. Ah . . . I guess you were really counting on that daily wish to put things right. You decided to have a bit more fun last night and had two beers. After the soccer game you and Frank were watching a high school comedy in which the only things bigger than the jock's egos were the cheerleaders' breasts." Bic noted the deepening scowl on Bridge's face, and decided to explain faster. "Frank made a comment on how is his mother admonished him to marry a well-bosomed young woman. Then, in your inebriated state, you wished, clearly and firmly I may add, that you had breasts as big as his mother's. By the way, the time you made the wish was 1:01 a.m."
    "Shit! Me and my wishful thinking." She then snapped her fingers. "Hot Hell, I surely didn't summon you from the lighter!"
    "Actually, Mistress, I can be let out of my lighter without first rubbing it on your breasts. If someone else uses the lighter, I'll still be inside it. However, if that other person rubs the lighter on a woman's breasts I'll become that person's genie. A little bit of warning if you plan to take me outside of the apartment."
    "Oh, thanks for telling me that in advance, you little shit! Any other tidbits of information you're not specifically telling me?"
    The tiny genie had to grin as his mistress' expense. "The purple smoke is just for dramatic effect, Mistress. Something I saw while watching a show about a female genie and her master."
    "Dramatic, eh?" She said dangerously.
    Bic stood up and walked as far as he could to the front of Bridge's left breast. "Mistress," he said in a falsetto voice, "your nipples are so rude and angry. They'll add an easy extra two centimeters to your bust measurement."
    "And what may that be?" Out of Bic's field of view Bridge made and open fists with her right hand.
    "One hundred eighty-two centimeters, Mistress. Fred's mother is that tall, and going by Angelican tradition her nanite-augmented bustline is the same number. You wished for your breasts to be as big as hers, so," his smile was suitable for a boy trying to escape punishment with a lie, "you got 24 centimeters extra in the bargain. Now, in inches, that'll be . . . "
    Bic couldn't finish his sentence because Bridgette wrapped her righteous fist around the impish man. It looked so unreal, like a scene from an ancient b-movie or equally tacky comic book. A giant woman holding a tiny, struggling man in her hand. Give the woman breasts capable of knocking over the tiny man's buildings then you have the makings of an erotic and tacky comic book.
    "I understand your frustration, Mistress," Bic was finally able to say. "I can't be harmed by mortal means. Please, if it will help you alleviate your stress, then do to me what you must. I forgive you."
    "Keep your forgiveness, you gimpish genie. Or should I say Djinn? You took advantage of my drunken state, and punishment is in order. You said you can't be harmed by mortal means, eh?"
    "That's true, Mistress."
    "Fine. You'll get a first-hand view of Tazland's water reclamation system." In a turn so abrupt that her breasts wobbled like jello, Bridge marched to the toilet, rolled the tiny genie into a ball, and dropped him into the water. A quick plunge on the lever sent Bic down the drain like a man caught in a whirlpool.
    Bridgette's smile was wicked and gleeful. "Have a nice trip. And when you come back take another bath to remove the crap smell you're bound to get down there, you imp."
    Back in the living room the inflated bunny hostess found her guest awake and sitting on the couch. "Good morning, my honey bunny," Frank said. "I guess you had to get that excess beer out of your system."
    "And then some. I got rid of a bad piece of potato that was bothering me. How was your sleep?"
    "Excellent, though I didn't intend to spend the night here. But I did have the pleasure of being lulled to sleep by your beating heart. You were most generous in offering your bosom."
    "Yes, I was." Bridgette flushed appreciatively. Being flattered about your most obvious assets was a daily occurrence for Angelican women. For the next day she knew she'll be receiving her own fair share of compliments.
    "I'll be available at any time you care to call. Especially after you're done with work today. You've said the Friday Crush is the busiest time of the week. This time swing on by my apartment after work. There's plenty of diet pop in the frig, I promise."
    Lovely, if I could only accept it. She thought with a bit of sourness. At 1:00 a.m. it's wish-reckoning time. "I'll take that promise."
    Frank got up, only to go on one knee right in front of his bountiful girlfriend. "Let me give you something to look forward to tonight." Without further preamble he kissed the left nipple that was just at the same level as his mouth.
    It was like liquid lightning flooding through Bridgette. The sensation of pleasure was akin to tasting rich chocolate, one of the few vices the little woman had. She found a new one to add to her list. With some reserve of control that came from somewhere she playfully shooed Frank out of the apartment. The little woman knew that if she allowed him to kiss the nipple again, the consequences would've been far more stimulating for the both of them.
    As she had done before, Bridgette checked her photo album, curiosity needing to be satisfied on what her altered reality was like this time. There was no change until she reached the section containing photos of her junior year in university. Something had to have happened during the summer break before then, for the first junior photo showed her with an Angelican bustline. Oh, God, I must've won that wet-tee contest in New Darwin instead of Alexis. She flipped the photo over and read what her altered self had written. "Busting into the new school year with my best front forward", God, I can't believe I've wrote such a cheesy line. She moved onto the section of photos taken during her final summer break, the one before her senior year in university. It was that summer when she first began working, in a part-time capacity, at the Cotton Tail. How in Hell did I get hired in the first place? She wondered. Nothing written on the back of the photos suggested the reason why. The first few pics were obviously taken on a beach on Outback. They showed Bridgette clad in a bikini bottom, the only thing she wore above the waist was a silly smile. Pressed to each breast was one of her university friends, smiling widely and making the ancient peace sign with their hands for the camera's benefit.
    "Nice breast shine you have in those pics," came the sound of Bic's voice. "Is that the result of a mild suntan or oil?"
    Bridgette found the genie, still in his self-imposed tiny state but now clothed in his lounge lizard garb, sitting on her right shoulder, peering down at the photos. "What are you doing back so soon?" she demanded.
    "Oh, I knew you wanted to know as soon as possible on the changes this time." Bic slid off of his Mistress' shoulder and onto her right breast. He came to a stop just short of falling off her impressive teat, flat on his stomach and head propped up on his forearms. It was like he was a young tike watching the funnies on Saturday morning tri-dee. "Turn to the next page." Bridgette complied, and Bic pointed to one particular photo. "In this reality, you took a dare and interviewed for an opening at the Cotton Tail. Mr. Sakamoto would not have hired you, but the Chief Executive Officer of the Cotton Tail franchise happened to be in Tazland that week. Until then, no Angelican woman . . . " Bic patted the breast skin before him " . . . no Angelican-sized woman had ever applied for employment at a Cotton Tail franchise. Rightfully fearing a potential lawsuit under Tazland's anti-discrimination laws, the CEO, umm . . . persuaded Sakamoto to hire you."
    Bridgette listened, but her focus was on the pic the genie pointed out. It was of herself, in a bunny hostess outfit, one obviously tailored-made for her Angelican dimensions. Sakamoto was in the pic as well, standing next to Bridgette and looking dour, like he had drunk sake that went bad. He also looked insubstantial next to his new employee, even though he was five centimeters taller. Her breasts made her look all the more massive. The hostess outfit covered the front, bottoms, and sides of her watermelons well enough. Cleavage worthy of the title canyon, along with the tops of her breasts, were in full display. She mentally gagged, observing that she had far more than a simple lighter in her cleavage. A complete carton's worth of cigarettes was in that fleshy valley, along with an equal number of lighters. Peering closer, she even made out a notepad complete with pen sharing flesh space with the normal bunny hostess accessories.
    Bridge glared down at her genie. "You're saying that for the last three years I've been more than just a typical bunny hostess? I've been nothing more that a walking concession stand for cigarettes and lighters?"
    "Don't get your pretty boobies all huffy, Mistress. Back in my time, in Las Vegas, the casino hostess girls walked around with trays filled with the very items you offered." Bic patted the flesh before him again. "I must say you've employed your cleavage to a most practical use. No other girl at the Cotton Tail has your carrying capacity, and you're consistently getting more tips than anyone else."
    "That's all nice to know, Bic. However, your mistress is still upset. Flushing you down the toilet was a start, but you need a bit more punishment." Like before, Bridge snatched Bic into her comparatively massive hand. Acting like a vengeful giant, she tromped into the kitchen, breasts heaving righteously. She found her pet cat Sneak on her cushion, alert and attentive due to her owner's noise.
    Holding her troublesome genie up at eye-level, Bridge gave the lounge lizard a steely glare. "I'll be taking my run now, then shower, have breakfast, and do daily chores before going to work." She then glanced down at Sneak. The malevolent glee in her eye shouldn't have worried Bic, but it did anyway. "You're going to entertain Sneak while I make my run. If you don't, then you're going to stay in the lighter all day and miss out watching your precious sports channels. Do I make myself clear?"
    "If my Mistress so orders, I will comply. May I entertain Sneak at my normal size?"
    "The answer is no. Sneak needs to exercise her natural mouse hunting instincts." Again, like before, Bridge rolled the tiny impish man into a ball and threw it at Sneak. She watched for a few moments, satisfied that her cat understood that the tiny yet immortal man was for her enjoyment, and marched back to the bedroom to change into her jogging suit. It was a given that it was going to be a long day indeed.
 

7

"Blessed God, this has to be the most you've ever carried," commented Roxie. She eyed Bridgette's item-filled cleavage not with envy but with awe. Not only did the head bunny hostess hold the normal complement of eight packs of smokes and twelve lighters, she also had thirty complementary pens. Sakamoto was maximizing his advertising of the Cotton Tail during the renovation, a task that was ten days away from completion. Friday was indeed the busiest day of the week at the Cotton Tail. Visitors from Outback and incoming traffic from other systems brought in the high-price clients, and word-of-mouth advertising was worth its weight in gold.
    Bridge played a hand over the front of her suit. The combination of memory plastic panels and memory metal strips held her bust firmly. Due to their nanite augmentation, her breasts were not as heavy as one would suspect, but she knew that she'll still feel the strain tonight. Angelican-bosomed women, even with all the advances in bra and clothing designs, simply do not stand on their feet for hours on end if they can help it. Given her inadvertent ampleness and inexperience at being so big Bridge looked forward getting off work and having Frank give a much deserved back massage. "I feel like a gift shop display counter. Thankfully ceramic cups can't be placed in here."
    "But memory plastic cups certainly can." It was Sakamoto, well-dressed as ever. He even looked smug. He held in his hand what appeared to be a casino chip, emblazoned with the Cotton Tail logo, an outline of a bunny girl hostess in pink. "Apply a three-second supply of standard current to this and it'll turn into a twelve-ounce cup. I figure you can hold twelve of these things along with everything else in your ample mammary magazine, Bridge."
    In any altered reality Sak still makes tacky jokes, she mused. "Will the other girls be carrying goods as well this time, Sak?"
    "Oh, just the lighter and two of the cups. The others simply don't have the space that you have, Bridge. Just another week of being a mobile advertisement and things will get back to normal."
    Oh, much more quickly than that, Sak, Bridge thought. At the very bottom of her cleavage was the big lighter. She felt it down there, its metal unnaturally cool, resisting any attempt to be warmed by her breasts. Bic was back in the lighter, awaiting only for Bridge to open it and make her wish. She glanced at the big chrono display at the other end of the dining room. It was 1:00 p.m. exactly. In eleven hours and 18 minutes she'll be able to make her daily wish, and this time it will be a conscious wish made without the influence of alcohol. With the expected heavy business tonight the time would fly by fast enough to suit Bridgette perfectly.

"Oh my aching puppies," moaned Roxie in the employee dressing room. She was talking about her feet, not her comparatively small but still serviceable mammaries. "These new heels are killing me, and there are two more hours to go."
    "My shoulder blades feel like they're falling off," Bridge said. Sitting in her chair like a fatigued monarch, the Angelican-sized woman corralled her ampleness in her lap. Her previously-filled cleavage was now empty of Cotton Tail pens, lighters, and cigarettes. "I'm amazed that I haven't poked someone's eye out yet."
    Roxie took a drag on her cigarette and exhaled. "Oh, you will. The customers come to expect that from you and even give you more in the way of tips. I think it's some sort of fetish they have, getting their eyes poked by the breasts of a bosomy bunny such as yourself."
    "Or being face-smothered by my front. I felt like an ancient barroom wench, giving a free peepshow down my front whenever I bent over."
    "The money you're making compensates for that well enough, I think. A good thing, for I imagine you go through a fair number of sports bras and blouses each year. Oh, are you still babysitting for Mrs. Hilgrave?"
    "Yes, I am." One of the few surprizes Bridge had this day was encountering Mrs. Hilgrave during the morning run. It was during their brief talk that Bridge learned she babysat for Hilgrave, the apartment superintendent. Angelican babysitters were considered the best ones to hire, given their emphasis on family and care of children. She knew of Mindy, Hilgrave's seven-year-old daughter. In her original reality Bridge found the small girl to be engaging and precocious when it came to tri-dee adventure games. She began to wonder if that was still the case in this reality, but didn't pursue the thought any further. In two hours it would be a moot point. "Why did you ask?"
    "Well, you speak so well of the kid that I wonder if you've mentioned it to Frank yet." Roxie grinned. "There's nothing more determined than an Angelican woman with belly hunger."
    "Belly hunger? What made you think that I and Frank are going to settle down and get married anytime soon?"
    "Nothing, really, other than the silly names you share between yourselves. That and the fact that once you're home and preggars I'll be the new chief bunny hostess."
    Bridge stuck out her tongue. "Silly you. I still have a few more years to earn my fortune at this place."
    "Then get back to earning that fortune." It was Sak, walking up from behind Roxie and heading right for Bridge. In his hands was a plain brown box. "Those slowpokes at Commonwealth Express. My delivery was sitting at their shuttleport storage facility for three days. Three days! Only because their facility manager is a frequent customer was I able to get this box tonight instead of on Monday."
    "What is it?" Bridge watched as Sakamoto placed the box on a dressing table.
    "More promotional items, and you dear will be the one dispensing them." He opened the box and showed the contents to the woman. "Lighters. Big metal lighters promoting the big opening next week." He tossed one at Bridge, who caught it and gave it a look.
    Dang. They practically look the same as mine. What a minute . . . The lighter reacted to the heat from Bridge's hand. The silver exterior turned purple, and the pink Cotton Tail logo appeared on the side.
    "Neat effect, eh? Totally unlike the plastic ones we normally give out." Sak began to place the rest of the lighters into Bridge's cleavage. For him it was like loading bullets into a gun. For Bridge it was more like sweating bullets.
    Okay, okay, okay. My lighter is at the very bottom of my cleavage and it can't change color. I won't make the mistake of handing it out, for it's too late now to put it in my locker. But sweet Jesus, he's putting all of them in my flesh canyon.
    "Perfection! What a marvelous capacity! Forty lighters between those boobies. It must be a record." Sak admired his handiwork. Already Bridge's body heat turned those lighters visible to the eyes a bright purple color. "Now go and make sure you give the customers one when they leave. And don't go around and accidently smother Mr. Watson like you did last week. Even if he offers you money to repeat it, don't do it."
    "Umm . . . sure, boss." Bridge got up and went for the service door that lead back to the dining room. With the extra weight she carried maintaining balance became a challenge. As much as it intrigued her, she decided not to find out the particulars about the Watson smother incident. After tonight it won't matter at all.
 

8

For the next two hours Bridgette kept her anxiousness covered with a smile. Serving drinks while endowed with a dominating bosom did pose a problem. Leaning forwards would plant the humongous mammaries on the tabletops, and she lost the forward clearance she once had due to the same reason. Then she recalled a scene from a movie that featured the Tea Cup waitresses. She employed the serving method those similarly-endowed women employed. By bending over sideways and slightly backwards Bridge was able to serve without mishap.
    If anything the patrons wanted some form of contact with Bridge's bust. It came mainly from Bridge playfully chiding the exiting customers, pushing them softly out the literal door by the fronts of her ta-tas. She did 'breast-punch' one man by accident, turning around a bit too quickly and nailing him in the stomach. He was more happy than annoyed, and the woman with him was quite capable on her own to inflict breastful blows on his man. As instructed by Sak, Bridge made sure the customers got a promotional lighter. Before handing them out, she heated them up with her hand, making sure they were the promos instead of Bic's. She was surely glad when the chrono finally read 1:00 a.m. With a pronounced sigh she turned to the dressing room door only to be stopped short by Sak. "A good job, little lady," said the manager, aware that the only thing little about Bridge was her height. "Now, before you scoot off and smother your significant other, hand over the remaining lighters. How many do you have left, anyway?"
    "Just one, Mr. Sakamoto. Just let me get undressed first . . . "
    "That'll take too long. This will take just a moment." Without further preamble Sak plunged his hand into Bridge's cleavage and groped for the remaining lighter. Calm down, girl, the chief bunny hostess told herself, he had to have done this before in this reality. In a few minutes it won't matter, it won't matter one damn little bit. It seemed liked an eternity. Sak's hand was like a rabid ferret moving around in her breast valley.
    "Got it." Sak placed his prize in his coat pocket. "Good night."
    "Good night, Sir." Bridge crossed her arms over her bust and stuck out her tongue at the retreating form of her boss. "That little rat, fishing for that lighter like it was prize in a box of cereal." In the dressing room she did her own bit of fishing, finding the lighter and placing it on the top shelf of her locker. She dressed quickly into her casual clothes, not bothering donning the huge Angelican bra. "Good riddance, you albatross," she said with an accusing tone. Then, plucking the lighter from its perch, Bridge went outside and into a side alleyway used for deliveries.
    With lighter in hand, Bridgette opened it and sparked a fire. "Okay, Bic, come on out." Nothing happened for several seconds. "Bic, you know better. As your mistress I order you to come out. Show yourself." She stamped her foot as she waited a few more seconds. "Oh, you lecherous Djinn. You said it wasn't necessary." Feeling rightfully resentful, the bountiful bunny put out the flame. With hand under her shirt, she rubbed the lighter against her breasts. After a good 30 seconds of rubbing she brought the light back into the pale light of planetglow cast by the holopanels high above her head.
    She didn't need the light. The lighter glowed a rich purple color. Bridge would've appreciated the color had not a feeling of panic sudden swell in her chest. Turning the lighter on its side, she felt as if her breasts gained ten times their weight. Glowing in pink, the Cotton Tail logo was staring her in the face. "Oh, this is so rooted!" She exclaimed. "That wogger has my lighter!"

"You wogger! I know I'm ticklish there."
    "But it was the best way to kick-start your engine, if you know what I mean." Sak tickled the little woman's stomach again. "Such a fine, flat tummy too. You eat like five men and none it of shows."
    "Only because I burn it off so fast." The topless woman rolled on the bed, presenting her supple back and shoulders. "Now, give me a rub. Tonight's work left me a little sore."
    "Yes. I need you in top form for our bedroom boogie." With eager hands Sak commenced with the backrub. Unlike most Tazlanders, Sak had his home in one of the clearsteel domes around the shuttleport. Instead of a fake nighttime planetglow he got the real thing from his bedroom window. With that view he had wined, dined, and bedded all of his casual conquests, including Akane, his latest.
    True, Akane wasn't the typical fare Sak sought, but she had several endearing traits. First, she was the first woman Sak had bedded in a long time that was of Japanese ethnicity. Her demon-red hair was unique, and she assured Sak that it wasn't dyed or the result of nanite alteration. At a height of 140 centimeters Akane was like a living doll when compared to Sak's own short stature. Oh, he did like tall women, but the advantage of not straining one's neck when looking up at your bedroom partner couldn't be discounted. Finally, her breasts were comparatively large, a result of being on a non-traditional Japanese diet. They were large enough to be a handful for Sak, and he admitted to himself that their natural build had an undefined quality that nanite-built bosoms couldn't match.
    "I could use a good smoke just about now." Sak stopped his backrub. "I need some nicotine to get myself juiced."
    "Why not kiss me? Let your little demon get your blood hot and bothered."
    "Soon, Akane, soon." Sak rolled out of bed and went for the packet of cigarettes on the dresser. Looking for a lighter, he remembered the one in his coat pocket. A smile filled his faced as he returned and sat on the bed. "I've got something nifty to show you, my red-haired oni." He rubbed the lighter on Akane's breasts, making her nipples proud and puffy in response.
    "Oh, it's cool," she purred. "You had that thing packed in ice before I arrived, didn't you."
    "No, and it should've been glowing by now." He stopped rubbing and flicked the lighter. "Well, I suppose every shipment will have a dud or two . . . "
    The appearance of purple smoke issuing from the lighter came as a complete surprize. Sak threw the lighter to the floor, and had it been a normal lighter the carpeting would've been singed but not burnt. Instead the purple smoke collected in the air above the lighter and transformed. His and Akane's surprize was complete when they saw Bic floating in midair, sitting Indian-style atop a small purple cloud.
    With an exaggerated bow the floating man greeted the stunned Japanese couple. "Greetings, oh obviously oriental one. You've now become master to me, the genie of the lighter."
    To give him credit, Sak's quicky recovered his senses. "Genie? What sort of fool you take me?"
    "That depends on what you ask for, Master."
    "Ask for? Oh, a test of your powers, eh?"
    The genie tugged on the front of his purple robe. "If that will convince you of my reality, Master, then ask of me a wish you want fulfilled."
    "Fine. I'm going to wish for something that no hoaxer can fulfill."
    "I'm not a hoax, Master."
    "Sure you're not." Sak turned and pointed at Akane. "I wish that woman has breasts the size of casaba melons!"
    Akane whelped in surprize as her natural melons quadruple in size. She tried to cover them in an utterly futile attempt of denial. "Sak, why did you make such a silly wish?" she asked, a bit leery of the now-lustful look on Sak's face.
    "Hot damn, you're real!" The little man walked up to his floating genie. He appraised the supernatural being like a new car on the showroom floor. "So, what is the extent of your powers?"
    The genie bowed again. "If my Master cares to know now I can explain. But may I suggest you partake of your lady friend's newfound endowments instead. A talk over breakfast, when you're awake and refreshed, would be a more conductive environment."
    Sak only needed another look at Akane's enlarged norks to make his decision. "Okay, genie, talk to me in the morning. I assume I can summon you in the same manner I did the first time?"
    "Yes, Master."
    "Then let me and my lady have our privacy." Sak dropped his robe on the floor and advanced on the bed. Akane, still hugging her breasts, found herself unsure if she wanted to stay or leave. When the lustful man planted a kiss on his woman, her decision to stay was made. In a moment she shoved Sak's head down between her breasts like he was her favorite teddy bear.
    "As my Master orders, so I shall obey." The genie transformed into a pillar of purple smoke and entered his lighter.
 

9

Bridgette still went to Frank's apartment after work. It was almost 2:00 a.m., but Frank was still awake and happy to see his girlfriend. But the vibes given off by Bridge told the injured man that his honey had a bad day indeed. Still, she was willing, even demanding, that Frank performed the traditional Angelican breast massage. Limited to the effective use of one hand the massage took twice as long to perform, but Bridge didn't care, just so long as Frank and his wonderful magic fingers did their work.
    She stayed the night, sleeping on Frank's bed while Frank himself took the couch. His bed was small to begin with, and having an Angelican-sized breast land on a still-tender arm during the night would've been painful. In the morning Bridge cooked up a quick breakfast for the both of them, gave Frank a peck on the cheek, and went back to her apartment. The first thing she did was to call up Mr. Sakamoto. In her most unassuming and innocent tone, she asked if Sak picked up the lighter last night. She told him it was a simple mix-up, and would exchange it with the one she had later that night at work. After a moment Sak agreed, and the call was terminated.
    The Cotton Tail opened at 5:00 p.m. on Saturdays. At 4:55 an inwardly anxious Bridgette greeted Sak at the entrance. "Hello, Sir. Had a good afternoon?"
    "Why, yes I did. A good afternoon indeed." Sak retrieved a lighter from his pocket. "This has to be yours, Bridgette. It doesn't change color at all." There was a glint in Sak's eye as he watched his employee literally bury the lighter deep into her cleavage. With the other hand she gave the now-purple colored promotional lighter back to her boss. "Good. I need this one. I expect to go through another box tonight." He patted the sides of Bridge's protruding proudness. "Get back inside and fill'er up. There's another box in my office. The first customers are already coming up behind me."
    "Yes, Sir." With some understandable haste Bridge went back inside. The bunnysuit's top wobbled from the effort she placed in her hasten walking, and she felt the lighter jostle around with each step. In the office she unceremoniously retrieved the lighter and commenced to rub it. "Oh, come on out, you wogger. It's time to end this weird reality."
    Just then Sak came waltzing into the office. He caught Bridge by surprize, and the look on her face was priceless. "Not if I have anything to say about it. You can stop with the lighter. It isn't the one."
    Bridge dropped the false lighter like it was kryptonite. "Holy dooley!"
    "Oh, that Bic is a character," Sak continued, looking smarmy and a little bit sinister with his beard. "He told me of the wishes you made, and how those wishes can alter reality to suit the wish maker. Well, let me tell you something, you manxfull sheila. You'll rue the day you wished for those outsized lungs and parade them around, being the only one who knew the true state of affairs. My wishes are going to make some profound changes, Bridge, and only you and I will be aware of the changes. I made sure of that when I talked to Bic this morning."
    The bunny hostess' chest heaved with righteousness. "Sak, you're going to be the one who'll do all the regretting. Bic will get on your nerves and not quite fulfill your wishes." She clutched one breast for emphasis. "I got these breasts from wishing out loud in my sleep. Who knows what you're going to ask when your brain is full of sake?"
    "Knowing myself, perhaps a mountain of cash!" Sak reached over and slapped Bridge's unclutched breast. "Don't even bother trying to find the lighter, sheila. You won't find it. If you upset me or do anything stupid I just might use my 'wish of the day' on you. No police officer or other officials will believe you, since any change would appear to be always true."
    "Ugh, you're a regular madder. So what's your wish tonight going to be?"
    "Haven't decided. I've already used my first daily wish on my current pillow panther, Akane. You haven't seen her yet, but she'll be here tonight and," Sak's sinfully wicked look gave Bridge shivers, "what she has on now can only be improved on." With malevolent glee the manager picked up the box full of promotion lighters and placed it on his desk. Opening it, he then placed the lighters into Bridge's cleavage. He did it one at a time, slow and deliberate so that Bridge could feel each of his fingers and the rings he had on them. "Perhaps, one day, I'll use one of my wishes to remove your memories of knowing the changes I made to reality. After a few years of bearing witness to what I've done you'll welcome the opportunity of not knowing a thing about them."
    "Never make an idle threat to a lady, Sak." That was all Bridge could say to boastful man. She rightfully feared that Sak would do something to her and not even be aware of it.
    "Lady? With those breasts? I don't buy into the Angelican philosophy. Boobs that big only belong on adult entertainers and bunny girls like you. Now go out there and work the floor. And give more show time for your cleavage. The patrons will tip you more if you do."
    With a mix of uncertainty and indignation Bridge left the office and into a world where one sexed-up little man had the power to change the world as he saw fit.

The night couldn't go fast enough for Bridge. She did see the woman, Akane, that Sak mentioned, and wondered if only her breasts were wish-improved. The tiny Japanese woman wore a body-clinging one piece dress. It was the kind of dress that left nothing to the imagination, and for Bridge it was a warning of what she could really expect from Sak if his wishes continue to go down that particular path.
    On Sunday Bridge woke up as usual and even did her routine. Knowing her boss, Sak would've used his daily wish by now. She wasn't aware of any changes his wish may have caused, but then again he may have gone back on his word. However, just being able to think about that give her some comfort. Perhaps he did use his wish on something else, but what?
    She went to work a bit early, arriving an hour before the opening. When she arrived, she did a double take, unsure if it was the right building in front of her. A quick reference on the minicomp she carried told her the truth. The Cotton Tail, an unassuming one-story building was now a two-story structure complete with huge bay windows. Sak always bitched that he wanted more floor space without going through the expense and downtime it would've entailed. It was obvious on how he did it.
    This modified Cotton Tail was not only larger but also finished. Dining and gambling tables were all prepped and ready to go. Furniture and carpeting shined and smelled of newness. Even the bar was enlarged, leading Bridge to wonder how many bunnies were added to the payroll. The dressing room was still in the same place as she expected it to be, and the number of lockers was increased by only six. However, that meant six new faces for Bridge to known and learn about. Working as quickly as her ampleness would allow, she got into her bunny outfit. She brought up the personnel files of the Cotton Tail employees on her minicomp. At the very least she could place the proper names with the correct faces.
    Roxie walked in, followed by several of the other hostesses. "Hiya, Bridge," she said, opening her locker and went on to change clothes.
    "Hi, Roxie. I must say the work floor looks nice today."
    "It should," Roxie replied, removing her bra before donning the bunny hostess suit proper. "Sak was happy that the renovation got done ahead of schedule. Especially since it took some doing to get the building commissioner's okay to add a second level."
    Guess that's the change. I do recall Sak's bitching that the zoning office wouldn't allow the addition of a second floor. He wished the use of kickbacks or some other kind of bribes. "So, I suspect we'll get the usual Sunday night crowd."
    "Usual? Girl, this is opening night of the new Cotton Tail. We're going to have a capacity crowd. Perhaps putting a bull bar in front of those norks won't be such a bad idea." Roxie giggled. "Oh, you're so righteously big all the gamers will want to rub their dice on you for bunny luck. I'm just glad we have the new girls up to speed."
    "So am I, Roxie." Bridgette patted her blonde-haired friend on the shoulder. "Let's get rolling."
    The business that night was as busy as Roxie predicted. Time flowed by like so much water down a river. Bridgette provided 'bunny luck' at the gaming tables for a good portion of the night. That and providing the obligatory service of lighting cigarettes. Contact with Sak was minimal, and when it did happen it was unpleasant. Not only did Sak have Akane hanging around, there was another buxom beauty acting like a piece of arm candy. At one point during the night he had his chief bunny hostess come over to his table. For some undescribable reason Bridgette felt that Sak was become more like Bic in his pre-genie days.
    The happy man practically sang his words. "Bridgette! I must say this dig has gotten the space it deserves. Aren't you happy with the extra-wide spacing between tables? That was my idea in the revised floor plans."
    Bridge pointed her suit-covered bazooms like loaded weapons at her boss. "Not that the old spacing was any hindrance for my size. Enjoying yourself?"
    "Immensely. Now, run along you green-eyed minx. Save your proud boobs for your boyfriend. I have enough here to keep me occupied." To prove his point Sak panted a hand on each of his arm candies' fronts, earning him a double earful of delightful squeals.
    "I can tell you have things well in hand, Sak." Bridgette turned and left Sak to wallow in his own crapulence.
 

10

Bridge had Mondays off. Usually she spent those days taking a swim at one of Tazland's municipal pools. Waking up from a much-deserved slumber, Bridge made a mental note to go to a pool that allowed women to be topless. Such pools were frequented by Angelican-sized women to begin with, for they knew any sort of swimsuit top would just inspire lust and trunk trama in men. Seeing the watermelon mammaries naked to begin with would put everyone pool side at ease.
    For a moment Bridge thought she was hallucinating. Then, with clear eyes she received firm confirmation on what Sak spent his daily wish on. "Holy heaven, I already had breasts that stood out like balls on a dog, but this is pure 'roo in the zoo!" Undeniably her norks were larger than the Angelican melons she carried around the past few days. So large, in fact, that her pet cat Sneak was perched atop one, purring contentedly as it swished its tail back and forth.
    As much as she liked the sensation of cat fur on her skin, Bridge shooed her pet off her breasts and sat up on the edge of her bed. She reached out and tentatively touched her nipples. Still the same size, and I'm still able to reach them, she thought. Well, in a way I suppose I should be happy he wasted a wish on me instead of something more serious. In infinite relief she found she could stand and even walk with such a prodigious load, but even then she needed the strength of her arms to carry her mass around. She gulped when she saw that the bedroom doorjamb had oval indentations on either side. The bathroom door was the same way, and even the shower was modified. A memory plastic shelf extended itself from the wall when she turned on the water. It served as a useful roost for her enormous mass, freeing her arms as she washed herself in the shower's deliciously warm water. Drying herself off had to be done in the old fashion way, but at least the towels had the elasticity and absorbency for the chore that faced them.
    Donned in a robe that could've served as a pup tent, Bridge went to the kitchen and checked the vid panel for messages. It was no surprize that there was one from Sak. With gummed lips she played it. "Hello, Bridgette. Hope you liked the additions I wished for you. For the record, you now have 270 centimeter bust. How I came to the number is simple. I rolled a pair of dice, multiplied that result by 10, and converted it to a percentage. You can thank me for rolling low." The image of Sak grinned, oblivious to Bridgette's scowl. "Now you can really treat that beau of yours to a breastful experience he'll never forget. Enjoy your Monday off. Boy, are you ever going to enjoy what I have planned for Tuesday."
    "Root a boot!" She felt indignant enough to call Sak that very moment. The call was answered, and the overbuilt belle found Sak sitting at his own breakfast table, sipping coffee. "Oh, you little slime. Don't you know that this could be construed by Bic as a misuse of his powers?"
    Sak placed his coffee down, his eyes closed and mouth made into a smile. "No, not really. It's an entirely reasonable use of my powers. Isn't it, Bic?"
    The lounge lizard genie hovered into view. He looked displeased, like he bit into something sour. "My Master is correct, former mistress. I might add at this point that the wish-induced bosom you have now was the result of a natural growth spurt. It started when you were twelve and didn't end until you were sixteen. Apart from the lack of participation in sports your life was for the most part unaffected."
    "Unaffected? Like hell! I was a track star in high school. Are you saying that if I look for my track trophies and related tri-dee pictures I won't find them?"
    "That is correct, former mistress. In this altered reality they never existed because you never participated in competitive sports. You chose to keep your breasts instead of having a reduction. Indeed, the best gift you got on your sixteenth birthday was a set of expensive but much appreciated anti-grav bras."
    "Temper, temper, sweet Bridgette." Sak joined in with a cooing voice. "Though I must say that shade of red fits you. And your nipples! See how they jut underneath your robe. I bet they're turgid and angry."
    "Rightfully angry. You took a part of my personal history, you lech."
    "Former mistress," the genie said before Sak could get a word in, "please restrain your anger. There is precious little you can do about this situation. My contract with Sak is all-demanding. Remember, even I had to obey your commands in the end."
    "So you said, Bic." She turned her attention to Sak. "Okay, boss, I'll make the most of this day, though I shudder to think what you have in store for tomorrow."
    With a literal hand wave Sak brushed off Bridge's concern. "Nothing more drastic than what I did to you. Be glad, for I decided to increase your salary by 35%. You need that money, for anti-grav bras are custom made, and they do tend to wear out after fairly short intervals." He unceremoniously terminated the call, leaving Bridge so heated that she disrobed to cool off. She trudged back into her bedroom to dress.
    With a snort she put her panties on. Then she moved onto the task of donning the bra Bic said she wore now. "Root a boot. At least my panties still fit normally. I don't need an arse that feels it needs to compete with the boobs on a cubic centimeter basis."

Monday, on the most part, was pleasant. Bridgette went to the shops and even did a bit of swimming in one of the adult-only pools in Tazland. Apparently she was a regular at the pool in this reality, for the attendants were ever-present with towels when she emerged from the water. She did get the occasional stare and gawk, but those came from visitors. Having been born and raised in Tazland, and given her altered history, she was just treated with proper consideration. Everyone knew her as Bridgette Osborne, a woman who happened to have very large breasts, thank you very much.
    That night she even babysat Mr. Hilgrave's daughter Mindy. Along with Frank, it was a fun time for all. Tri-dee games, scrabble, and hide-and-seek were played. When it came to hide-and-seek Mindy seemed to think that hiding behind Bridgette was a good idea. Given her babysitter's size, it was a reasonable idea. That game may have been fun for Mindy, but, after she was picked up by her mother later that night, both Bridge and Frank finally did what they considered to be fun.
    With pillows back on the floor in front of the tri-dee the fulsome woman undid her blouse and anti-grav bra. After the unneeded garments were dumped on the couch, the woman lowered herself down onto her pillow throne. Frank needed no coaxing to avail himself of the comforting cleavage Bridge offered. He rested his head and shoulders on the outsized breasts like they were the best things in the world. Being an Angelican male, he found that doubly true.
    "College soccer is on tonight." Bridge placed the remote on her left breast after selecting a sports channel. "Perth University Panthers vs. the New Britannia Lions."
    "I pity the Panthers," Frank said, his voice slightly muffled by the breasts on either side of his head. "Their coach stinks, and he has three years left on his contract. If they reach the championships this year, it'll be a miracle."
    "Any day I don't knock down a Cotton Tail patron I call a miracle," offered Bridge as she rubbed the top of Frank's head. "With the new floor space I should have enough room to navigate easily."
    "I read the article about the reopening of the Cotton Tail. It was in the weekend choice section of the Saturday Tazland Times. I and my parents are thinking of going there tomorrow night for dinner."
    Bridgette swore she could hear her heartbeat. "Visit me at work? How nice, but your parents? Umm . . . how can I say this?"
    "Oh, they know about you, and saw your picture in the article." Frank rubbed Bridge's cleavage with the sides of his face. It was a pleasant sensation, meant to induce a feeling of calm. The massage worked, for Bridge's heart didn't beat as loudly now. "A bunny hostess isn't exactly what they would consider a typical girlfriend for an Angelican boy, but it's no major hurdle. Keeping your bosom as is instead of modifying it shows that you're comfortable, even proud, of whom you are and how God decided the way you were put together. They even know that you'll be in this job only long enough to earn a comfortable nestegg before moving onto the next one."
    "You can say that, Frank. Given your heritage, and your parent's perspective, would that next job be marriage?"
    "That's an accurate guess, my mellon maiden. Marriage is a serious contract. But with our prolong-extended lifespans twenty years of child rearing would be but a brief layover. After that, who knows? With more university studies and internships perhaps you can be that bank manager you've told me about. It'll suit you, having a big desk to go with your incredibly luscious breasts."
    "I've come to expect that Angelican boy sweet-talk from you." Bridge reached down the fronts of the breasts and commenced to rub Frank's shoulders. As she did so, she remembered something that Bic had said earlier that day during the call to Sak's home. She would've forgotten it had it not be for Frank's mentioning of the word contract just a few moments earlier. By the time the soccer game was over she came up with an idea. It was so good in fact that she planted a kiss on top of her beau's head.
    "What was that for, Bridge?"
    "For being whom you are and what you mean to me, you sweetie. Now, how about helping me back to my bedroom and tuck me in for the night? Having an extra helping hand makes things so much better, don't you think?"
 

11

It was a quarter past twelve on Tuesday afternoon when Bridgette returned to the Cotton Tail. In the dressing room she found what she expected to find in her locker. Still in most respects a bunny hostess outfit, the enormous cups meant to corral her breasts where nevertheless imposing. Anti-grav panels were sewn into the cups, complete with slim battery rods good for six hours of continuous operation. Bridge hazarded that the whole suit cost more than 5,000 credits. No doubt her regular paycheck had a deductible going toward suit upkeep and replacement.
    The evidence of Sak's daily wish came walking into the dressing room, and Bridge was flabbergasted by the sight. Roxie had been the same height as Bridgette. So were the other girls, the same if not a little shorter. The blonde amazon now in the room had Roxie's face, but she stood two meters tall if not a centimeter over. Her breasts were righteously large, proportioned for an Angelican woman. Seeing a two-meter tall woman with a two-meter bustline would make most people gawk unconsciously. As it was, Bridge looked like she swallowed a canary.
    "Bridge, what's the matter?" The comparatively giant woman said. "It's not like you've never seen me in casual clothes before." She looked down the front of her copious blouse. "Are there gaps in the fabric you can see?"
    That settles it, the short woman thought. Sak made Roxie an Angelican amazon goddess. "Oh, not that, Roxie. I just recalled that Frank will be bringing his parents here tonight. They're going to see me in my element."
    Roxie's locker was next to Bridgette's. With so much breast mass in the area the shorter woman made room for her tall friend so she could change clothes. With the blouse removed, Bridge had a good view of Roxie's arms, back, and that bit of upper torso not covered by breasts. The blonde had defined muscles to go with her amazon dimensions. "I can understand your concern, Bridge. Frank's Angelican, and that means fulfilling certain obligations. His parents would be wanting to know how much longer you'll be working here at the Cotton Tail. They will also want to know how serious a relationship you have with him."
    Bridge was literally working into her bunny suit. The massive cups welcomed her breasts like they were long-lost lovers. Memory plastic warmed and applied itself to breast skin, forming a bond that will only end when the panels were turned off or when the batteries ran out of power. "I've shown him the comfort of my bosom like any Angelican woman would, but I'm not all that sure if I have the commitment to be one."
    "Oh, honey, if I was your height I would've been surrounded by suitors. You should've seen me as a freshman in high school. Fully grown at 15. Only the tallest boys, the basketball players, were at my level. Even if they had the courage to ask me for a date my bosom would've gotten in the way." Roxie was halfway into her bunny suit. She undid the claps and memory fabric catches of her bra and took it off. Her suit's breast cups were just as profound in proportion to Bridge's, and they too had anti-grav panels. Amazon she may be, but even Roxie, without a bra, would've felt the strain her norks would place on her back during the course of the night. The anti-grav feature of her suit helped immensely in that regard.
    "Bridge, I envy you for having a boyfriend like Frank. Even now men are reluctant to ask me out, and most of those that do turn out to be height-freaks, bosomy amazon worshipers or worse. I can't control my height, and I'm not going to downsize my breasts just to put people at ease. Eventually I will find the right man." Roxie donned the bunny ear's headpiece and looked down at Bridge. "Can you ask Frank if there's other eligible Angelican bachelors in Tazland? I would think they would appreciate the strength of this body. After all, I need it to hold up these boobies."
    "Such righteously proud boobies too," Bridge teases, literally craning her head up to see Roxie's face. "You just might have to go on a man-hunting expedition down on Outback. Tazland's pool of available beaus just isn't that large."
    Roxie placed the finishing touches to the shirtless collar and bow tie she just put on, regarding herself in the mirror inside her locker. "Expedition is the right word. The other girls are in the same boat."
    Bridgette found that hard to believe, but then she realized the full scope of Sak's daily wish. More bunny hostesses arrived, and the over ample short woman kept her face free of reaction. It wasn't just Roxie's reality that was changed, but the other bunnies as well. Soon the locker room was full of amazons just as tall and buxom as Roxie. Even with all that Bridge was still the dominating presence in the room. Being lower to the ground and having a 70-centimeter advantage in bust size helped, but Bridge found that a dubious distinction.
    Before closing her locker the chief bunny hostess placed a small clipboard down deep into her cleavage. She typically used the old fashion but still handy accessory for planning table assignments for the girls. With all the new floor space available planning the optimum coverage will take some doing.

It was a good afternoon that turned into a better evening. Frank's parents were pleasant and treated Bridge like she was one of their own, if only bigger than normal. They watched her as she performed her job and the skill and care she displayed while doing it. Knowing of their approval was a great boost for the little woman, for she had made several important decisions in a short period of time. For those decisions to be realized she had to make one more. Pulling out the small clipboard she had stowed between her breasts earlier, Bridge straightened her shoulders and walked up the central, decorative spiral stairway to the Cotton Tail's second floor, heading for Sak's office.
    "That's a mighty full woman you got yourself, Frank," said the proud man's father as he watched Bridge ascend the stairs. "She walks like she has a purpose."
    "I wouldn't call that purpose, honey," said the mother. "Bridgette walks like she has two huge bags in front of her. You're just admiring the way they swing with her steps."
    "Heh," said Frank finally. "I'll make sure I mention what you said to Bridge. She'll appreciate the compliment, Dad, I'm sure about it."
    At the top of the stairs Bridge waved down at Frank. She got a return wave and a smile. It was the reinforcement she needed when, without announcing herself, she entered Sak's office. There she found Sak sitting at his desk. Akane, bustful and underclad as before, was lounging on the love seat. She regarded Bridge like a cat to an intruding dog, with suspicion.
    Sak dropped the plaspaper sheet he was reading. "What are you doing? You're the on-floor manager for the rest of tonight."
    "I would be out there, if I was still working for you." Bridge handed the clipboard to Sak. On it was a sheet of plaspaper with red writing on it. "That's my resignation and the reason behind it. I just need your signature to certify that you've read it." Bridge pulled a pen from the depths of her breast valley and handed it to Sak as well.
    "Resign?" Sak read the document. "For this reason? I want to laugh, but I've laughed enough when you made your call yesterday. Resigning because you're going to marrying Frank is no release, Bridge. I'll just us a wish and keep you a bunny girl for decades to come. Prolong is a wonderful thing when it comes to keeping a woman's face full and cute. Shame to waste those looks being a housewife and mother instead of a bunny girl."
    "There you go with those wishes again," Bridge said in admonishment. "You perverted your power over Bic and altered those innocent women in your employ. Roxie was on a tournament-winning high school soccer team, but in this perverted reality that didn't happen. Why? She was literally too big. I know it'll be the same story for the other girls as well. If you don't want what little conscious you have left bothering you then use your next wish on me. Make me unaware of the changes you're doing to reality. I don't want to remind you at every opportunity I get."
    "Boy, who's been peeing in your mouth tonight?" His laugh was suitable for a man with delusions of greatness. "Let me sign this silly document of yours. It won't matter a good goddamn at 1:00 a.m. anyhow." Swiftly did Sak sign the document, tossing both clipboard and pen into Bridge's bust valley.
    A bit miffed, the woman pulled out both items, confirming Sak's signature. She pointed the pen at the man like it was God's damning finger. "Since I'm no longer employed by you, I imagine you want your expensive bunny hostess suit back. Here, take it." Bridge placed the pen behind her ear and fiddle with something behind her back. The bunny suit's memory plastic function was turned off, and the main part of the garment feel to the floor. She still had on her other bunny suit items, but her breasts were naked, and a thong panty protected the remaining third of her pride. From her position on the love seat Akane could see that Bridge had a cute girlish bottom that went well with her ample bosom.
    "You're not fired!" Sak yelled. Realizing that the office windows looking out onto the second floor of the club were still open, Sak pressed a control and had them closed. The window tint was set to maximum, so no one could see what was happening inside. "Like I said, it won't matter. In five hours I'll just wish you back into being a bunny girl working for me. I think also I'll have your bust an even three meters instead of two point seven. You won't know because I'll have Bic make you unaware of the changes done to reality. It'll be just like you always had such a big bust to begin with."
    "Then what? Will you make the girls even bigger as well? Hell, why not pillow women sized bunny girls? Won't have to worry about clothing them. They'll just need bunny ears and panties with puffy bunny tails and they'll be set."
    "Oh, shut up. Put that suit back on and get back to work."
    "Make me." Bridge stuck out her tongue. "I bet you wished you had the power to make me get dressed."
    "I'll do it by hand if I have to, but yes, I wished I could be just like Bic, snap my fingers and have my wishes fulfilled . . . " he stopped when he saw Bridge giggling. Seeing such a bosomed woman giggling should've been a turn-on for Sak, but he was still a bit angry. "What's so damn funny?"
    "You said the magic words, Shazam!" Bridgette pulled the top sheet of plaspaper off the clipboard, crumpling it into a ball. She then tossed the clipboard to Sak. She giggled again while Sak read the new sheet that confronted his eyes.
    "This isn't what I read just a moment ago. What the hell is it?"
    "It's a contract. A contract expressing your desire to become a genie."
    "Nonsense! Bic didn't mention anything about this at all."
    "You didn't ask him about his origins? Shame on you, Mr. Sakamoto." She shook her head like a schoolteacher disciplining a naughty child. "Then know that your signature bled through the upper sheet of plaspaper to the lower one. The ink is a mix of regular pen ink and your blood."
    "Blood?!"
    "That's right, blood. I went to the hospital earlier today and asked for a sample of your blood. It was for your attorney, you see, and it was needed in an upcoming paternity case."
    "Pa . . . pa . . . paternity case?!" Sak sputtered. "Bullshit lie, that what you did!"
    "A lie, but a serviceable one. I had the authorization to get such a sample to begin with, being a senior employee of the Cotton Tail. The contract you're holding has been written with a mix of ink and your blood. I wrote that contract in one sitting earlier this morning. Your signature, and your outspoken and sincere will to become a genie, has sealed your fate."
    "If that's so," said Sak, who was now starting to sweat, "then why hasn't the change occurred yet?"
    "Oh, I imagine Bic was only waiting for me to finish explaining." Bridge looked at the bioskin chrono she had tattooed on her left wrist. "So I imagine any second now . . . "
    The metal lighter, with its top opened, suddenly appeared on Sak's desk, its polished silver finish gleeming in the light. In a futile gesture of denial the man backed away and hit the wall behind him. "Noooooo . . . " was all he could say as he transformed into a pillar of purple smoke. The wispy column of color flew into the lighter and the top closed after him.
    In the spot where Sak stood a moment before was another man. Specifically, it was Bic, still in his gaudy purple robe and gold rings but now as mortal as any man. He felt his face and chest, confirming his return to normalcy. "Hot damn, I'm free! I'm no longer a genie!" He went around the desk and bodily hugged Bridge's breasts as best he could. "Oh, thank you, Mistress Bridgette. You've freed me from my centuries of bondage from that damnable lighter."
    "You're welcome, Bic. Now free my breasts from the bondage of your embrace. And don't call me mistress. I'm Bridgette, and you're a free man."
    "What about Sak?" said Akane. She was still on the love seat, hugging her legs close to her chest like a frightened girl. "You tricked him and made him a genie. He's going to be stuck like that until someone else is tricked in taking his place."
    "He had it coming, girl." Bridgette stood in front of the tiny Japanese woman, nipples pointing out and proud. "Sakamoto would've kept making his wishes. He would've become one of those Mr. Big wannabes. Would you like to become nothing more that a pillowly pair of breasts in Sak's harem? Did you want to think it would've been the best thing in the world? No, he had to put in his place."
    "It's still unfair," Akane whispered.
    "Unfair. Unfair for what he did to my friend and coworkers outside. Now that he's a genie I can at least put things right." With the knowing help of Bic the lighter was now in Bridge's hand. Like she did last week, she summoned the genie from the lighter. She had to laugh when Sak appeared, for the lecherous little man was now just that, 12 centimeters tall and bare-naked save for boxer shorts. He stood on top of Bridge's breasts, a literal lilliputian compared to the relative giantess before him.
    "Why is he dressed like that?" Bridge asked of Bic.
    "It's a genie thing," said the lounge lizard. "My outfit was what I thought of myself wearing all the time. For Sak I guess he wanted to walk around in nothing but shorts."
    "Evening, Mistress," said the now geniefied Sak. "It's killing me for saying this, but what wish do you want fulfilled tonight?"
    Bridge wrapped her fingers around Sak and brought him up to her face. "Listen well, you imp. Over the next few days some things are going back the way they were. Mess up my wishes, and you'll find that going down the toilet will be the least disgusting thing that'll happen to you. Now, for my first wish . . ."
 

Epilogue

It was two weeks later. Bridgette worked the wishes she needed from Sak, but not after 'punishing' the new genie a few times. Finally, after being cooked at the center of a cake the more Djinn than genie Sak finally got the message and stopped being obstinate. He proved to be most cooperative afterwards.
    For her first wish Bridgette had the bunny girls restored to their normal heights and life histories. As for their bosoms, they were made a more 'presentable' size of basketballs. The altered reality had it as a requirement of employment at the Cotton Tail, and Bridge had to admit it made the girls look more sexy. Not to mention they could now carry more lighters and cigarette packs in their collective cleavage.
    Bic was literally a man that had nowhere to go, and became the beneficiary of one of Bridge's wishes. He became the Cotton Tail's new manager, complete with a wish-created private office in the basement. Akane became his equally private secretary for that private office, instructing her boss on the particulars of 25th century life. The fact that she taught her new boss while clad in a nipple-strip swimsuit (her official work outfit) and in a decadently large hottub didn't bother her at all. It was the same kind of work she did back on Earth before arriving in Tazland. In fact she was to become Sak's new secretary, but found Bic more engaging, even with his 'foreign' looks.
    That just left Bridgette. She decided to keep the improved Cotton Tail , as well as a good portion of her new bust. It measured just a shade under two meters, and was a bit bigger than what Frank's relatively tall mother had on her chest. She liked the feel and mass of her new bosom, and actually felt empowered by it. Some activities became a bit more arduous, though, like folding laundry and cleaning the apartment. Morning runs became power walks, but that was compensated by cheerful greetings of passers-by. Even the children she met each morning called her the 'big nice lady'.
    Out of all the wishes Bridge used to make reality more or less normal the most difficult was the one she didn't use. Oh, she guiltily admitted to herself for a moment that Frank could've been wished out of her life, even replaced with someone else. But in her heart she loved Frank, and over the days she had even more reason to keep him in her life.
    Bridge was in the locker room, putting the finishing touches to her hostess outfit. Next to her was Roxie, also getting dressed for the day's work. "Oh, I feel just a bit bigger today," said the short blonde. She felt up her breasts to confirm her suspicion. "Must be the extra water I drank this morning at that charity soccer game. After all that running around one would think I should've sweated more. Good thing my soccer skills are still up to snuff, even when lugging these puppies in an outsized sports bra."
    "The wonders of nanite technology," commented Bridge. "Even with that, all I could do was shout encouragement from the sidelines. Falling on these boobies at speed still smarts like all get-out."
    "Wear a bull bar next time," teased Roxie as she applied her suit's basketball-sized breast cups to her ampleness. "I'm sure that would cut down on the discomfort. You need one now anyway to keep Frank safe from your embraces."
    "Shut your silly goob. You're just jealous." Bridge tugged the red bow she had around her neck. It wasn't standard bunny fare, but it wasn't mere decoration either. By Angelican custom an engaged couple doesn't use rings. Instead the woman wears a red bow around the neck, the man a blue headband. Bridge couldn't help but remember how she almost, but purely unintentionally, smothered Frank as she placed the headband on him. At least he had an easier time putting the red bow on her.
    "At least it's not envy. But I think I found a dateable bloke at the soccer game. He's a miner just like Frank, and he'll be here this afternoon."
    "Then the best of luck for you, Roxie." There was just one thing to complete Bridge's outfit. With aplomb she placed a standard Cotton Tail lighter between her breasts. The lighter that served as Sak's genie home was elsewhere. Specifically, it was in a time capsule, placed in the cornerstone of the enlarged Cotton Tail's foundation. In three hundred years the contents of the time capsule will again see the light of day. Bridge hoped that Sak will learn some humility and mellow out in the interim. More importantly she hoped the person who will next own the lighter will take heed of the instructions she left with it, hardcopy and data chip alike. A little bit of warning would go a long way to keep Sak in line once he's released again.
    Admiring her dominating bustline in the outsized full-length mirror in the center of the locker room, Bridgette gave her bow tie and red ribbon one final check. Frank was being treated to lunch at the Cotton Tail by his boss, in celebration of his engagement to Bridge. She wanted to look perfect, for she was going to be the hostess for her fiancee's table. Being with Frank was the best thing to result from rubbing the lighter on her breasts. From now on she knew a genie won't be needed to make her wishes come true.
 
 

END

42

 Thanks to Shin for the artwork and Gunbuster for coloring it. Thanks also for Sheber for his editing work.