Dr. Hooters Pt. XXXVII Phoebe Martin sulked in the corner of the laundry, folding the light blue uniforms. Watching as Yolanda Adams stormed in late, as usual, she seethed with resentment. Yolanda was the 'straw boss' of the laundry. What that meant under the corrupt prison administration was that Yolanda received her orders from the lazy guards who were the titular supervisors, then she passed the as- signments on to the inmates. This allowed the guards to pass the day drinking coffee and reading magazines. Of course, this system worked well for the guards and for Yolan- da, who did little if any actual work, and not so well for those close to the bottom of the prison food chain, like Phoebe, who did the lion's share of the work and received little more for their efforts than the proverbial 'three hots and a cot' - three meals a day in the prison dining room and a bunk in the prison dormitory. Yolanda, though, somehow, had become the right hand of the new prison yard boss, Sergeant Heatherwick, and this lent added au- thority to her orders and added venom to her tongue. Phoebe was used to mistreatment. Her father had abandoned her and her brother when she was small, and her drunken mother was unable or unwilling to protect her from a succession of abusive stepfathers, the last of whom raped her repeatedly starting at eight, and ending at puberty, when he handed Phoebe over to her brother. Astoundingly, Phoebe conceived, and despite her brother's best efforts in trying to pound the baby out of her, gave birth. The tiny mite, who Phoebe christened Henry, had his father's temper- ment, and howled continually. Through the efforts of a county social worker, Phoebe was able to obtain an apartment and a wel- fare check, and for a while, could even attend a few classes at a technical school. But baby Henry kept howling, and at fourteen, Phoebe had neither the patience nor the emotional resources to deal with the con- stant stress. Henry started showing up in public with fresh bruises all over his face and body. Eventually, this attracted the attention of the welfare agency, who took Henry away and placed ihim in a foster home. Phoebe went to parenting classes, and was able to get Henry back, For a while, life was good, and mother and son seemed to thrive. Phoebe graduated from the technical academy and was able to find employment as a sewing-machine repairwoman. Then, one night af- ter she picked Henry up at the day care center, he began scream- ing again. When she looked at him, her brother's features stared back at him. Picking little two-year old Henry up by the feet, she beat him against the wall until he stopped crying. The crime electrified the small community Phoebe lived in. Pre- dictably, the prosecution sought the death penalty, and such was the hysteria that it appeared Phoebe would be the first woman in the state sent to Death Row in fifty years. Then, when the as- sistant District Attorney presented the photographs of Henry as evidence, the slight, dark-haired Phoebe began wailing like a lost soul. "Henry! Henry! My baby!", she cried, despite all attempts to silence her. The history of abuse and incest came out into the open, and public sympathy began to swing towards the defendant. The prosecution dropped the capital charge and accepted the de- fense's offer of life plus thirty, and Phoebe was packed off to Mercer Forestry Camp until she became eligible for parole, some- time around the fourth decade of the coming century. Prison was familiar territory to Phoebe. More snarls, beatings and rough talk. More sneaking around to avoid detection. Once word got around why Phoebe was doing time, she was more of a pariah than ever, as baby-killers were considered the lowest of the low in a women's prison. Five years into her sentence, Phoebe had survived by working hard, eating little, and sleeping with one eye open. So Phoebe picked up on her hated boss's change in attitude imme- diately. Yolanda seemed upbeat today, even chipper. She smiled at Phoebe, at old Miz Lucy at the sewing table, and settled down for a long chat with Carmen Brown in the corner. Information being one of the most prized commodities behind the fence, Phoebe 'wandered' over to see if she could catch a few stray tidbits. She had unusually keen hearing, and had often been able to save herself by learning who had a cache of drugs, or who was plotting an escape. "Yeah, Carmen. Its just like I tole ya", Phoebe heard Yolanda whisper to Carmen. "The Boss want all of us here in the laundry tonight at midnight sick call. She asked for you by name, Car- men!" This electrified Phoebe. She could come and go as she pleased after lights out, thanks to a loose window pane next to her bunk. She determined to be in the laundry that night. *************************************************** Yolanda was pleased. Of all five women Julie had approached, on- ly Mother Constant had turned her down. 'I'm getting out in three months, Yoli. I just wanna go back to my husband, my kids, and my grandkids. Count me out, OK?' Finding Bonnie the Nazi on the weight pile, Yolanda told her about the boss's plan. Bonnie was doing triceps work, bent over, thrusting forty-pound dumbbells behind her. She listened intent- ly as Yolanda spelled it out for her, then imperceptibly nodded her head in assent. Yolanda understood. All the white girls in the camp looked up to Bonnie as one of the few able to stand up to the overbearing black majority, and it wouldn't do to have them see her making an alliance, for whatever reason, with Yolan- da or any other black inmate. Bonnie, though, was first and foremost, for Bonnie. She would be there. Carmen she had recruited that morning in the laundry, and Conchita had promised to be there as well when Yolanda caught her coming out of the chow hall at breakfast. That left Narcissa Lemon and Cathy Evans, both of whom were out with the turpentine crews in the surrounding forest. Yolanda left word for them to look her up as soon as they returned. There were three sick calls at the camp, morning, four o'clock, and midnight, where the ranking sergeant made the rounds of all the dormitories to escort those with medical complaints to the infirmary. Lights out was eleven thirty, and almost immediately after the hubbub died down, there was a rap on the dormitory door. The officer left her station and immediately returned fol- lowed by the imposing form of Sergeant Heatherwick. Phoebe waited a couple of minutes, then she rulled her blanket up in a bundle, and stuffed it under her sheets. Putting on her blue uniform blouse and slacks, she lifted the loose window pane and stepped out into the cool night air. Her back pressed against the dormotory wall, Phoebe saw the tall figure of Sergeant Heatherwick outlined against the sky, and the five inmates following her. Phoebe followed them at a distance, and wasn't surprised when the small group turned off the walkway to the clinic and followedd the path down to the laundry. Phoebe hid behind a bush as Sergeant Heatherwick unlocked the door, and the small group passed inside. After waiting a couple of min- utes, Phoebe mustered her courage and followed them in. She was astonished at what she saw. Sergeant Heatherwick had stripped to the waist, and was reclining on a table in front of the five inmates. What surprised Phoebe the most was that Sergeant Heatherwick had not two, but six large, basketball-sized breasts exposed, and that the inmates had lined up at the table to suck her breasts. One large breast was unoccupied, and flopped out onto the table. Phoebe could see the milk running out of the nipple, flowing in little rivulets across the table and dripping onto the floor. The sight hypnotized her, and she slipped out from her hiding place and walked down to the table, lifting the immense breast to her mouth and wrapping her lips around the plump, dripping nip- ple. The rich, creamy milk flowed into her mouth in warm gushes as she sucked. None of the others seemed to take any notice of her as she nursed. Bonnie, Yolanda and the rest were intent on their own nursing, and took the milk into themselves with their eyes closed and a look of total contentment on their faces. Even the dainty Cathy Evans slurped and sucked with a hunger that rivalled the rest. Phoebe looked up into Sergeant Heatherwick's face. She saw the Sergeant look back on her with a calm, detached look, nodding her head. Phoebe returned to her nursing, drinking in as much of the warm, invigorating milk as she could. The six inmates continued their suckling for about an hour and a half, at which time Sergeant Heatherwick sat up on the table. She had to detach Narcissa Lemon from her middle right tit, as she had fallen asleep, then she bound her four extra tits with an elastic band, and buttoned up her uniform blouse. "Ladies, we had an univited guest tonight", Julie spoke softly, indicating Phoebe. "I trust you to keep this confidential, Phoebe, until the transformations are complete. It shouldn't take too long. I estimate that in two or three days, we'll be ready for our next move. Now, lets get you lot back to the dorms. Stay in touch." The effects of Julie's milk manifested themselves as early as the next day. At lunch time, Yolanda, Bonnie, and Cathy electrified an audience at the weight pile. Yolanda had never been one for exercise, so it was rare to see her at the weight pile. Her hair had lengthened and her features ahd softened somewhat, and, al- though it was hard to tell in the shapeless prison uniforms, it appeared that she had filled out a bit as well. All of these considerations fell away as Yolanda strode up to a bar holding about five hundred thirty pounds of free weight and snapped it up to her chest, then over her head with little appar- ent effort. Bonnie added about a hundred pounds, then repeated the performance. Tall, willowy Cathy then added another fifty, and outdid them all. Returning to the bar, Yolanda attached all the remaining plates. The weight on the bar totalled nine hundred seventy-five pounds. She began doing curls, and the gathered inmates and officers mar- veled as she effortlessly knocked out ten, twenty, thirty repeti- tions with the heavy weights. As she flexed, her uniform blouse began filling out. By the twentieth rep, new breast tissue was peaking out through the gaps in her buttons, and her blouse was straining to contain the new growth. On the twenty-second rep, a button flew off her blouse and hit an officer in the eye. Yolanda, despite her weight and size, had never been large chested, but now she was sporting an impressive pair that looked to be about a 38DD, and still growing. Another button flew off on the twenty-eighth rep, and when she stood back up after putting the weight bar back on the ground, she stretched her arms over her head, and with an anguished rip, the remaining buttons gave way and Yolanda's large new breasts sprang out into the open air. Yolanda cupped her hands under her impressive new breasts, which were visibly still growing. "Shit!", she rejoiced, "Ain't noth- in' like a little exercise to make your titties grow, is there?" Bonnie the Nazi stepped up to the parallel bars and lifted her- self up. She was wearing a cut-off T-shirt instead of her uni- form blouse, and her heavily-muscled arms hung like sides of beef against her broad chest. There had been some development under the T-shirt, and the crowd gasped as she began to dip on the bars, bringing her body level with the bars and pushing herself back up again. With each push, the breast mass forming under her flimsy T-shirt pushed further out from her chest, until there were two grapefruit-sized mounds jiggling away as she finished her dips. Bonnie's breasts continued to grow as she stepped up to the bar. She took about a hundred pounds off and hunkered down, getting a firm grip with one hand in the center of the bar. Lifting the mass of metal carefully with her right hand, she pumped it like a dumbell, her giant biceps swelling with the effort. By now, Bonnie's breasts had ballooned to the point where the bottoms were peeking out from underneath her T-shirt, which served her now for a halter top. Yolanda moved over and lay a hand on the bar as Bonnie switched hands to continue her workout. "Lemme put a little resistance on that for you, sister", she of- fered. Veins popped out on Bonnie's left arm as she struggled to lift the bar against Yolanda's pressure. As she strained, her muscles and breasts grew explosively. Her flimsy T-shirt shredded as Bonnie's tits erupted out under the pressure, and her massive pectorals underneath them flaired out with the exertion. The bi- cep on Bonnie's powerful left arm looked like a roast chicken, and Yolanda repeated the performance for Bonnie on the right. Naked now to the waist, Bonnie stood upright and flexed. In a few short minutes, she had added about sixty pounds, about forty of which was breast and twenty of which was solid muscle. Muscu- lar to begin with , she was now a formidable ingot of muscle, with huge, imposing soccer-ball sized breasts jutting off her powerful, plate-like pectorals. With her shaved head, Bonnie was a fearsome sight, and she knew it as she flexed her powerful new arms.