Big Talent

Blue Undercover
Police Blue Episode 2-16: Big Talent
by Plato Voltaire
Copyright 1998

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.

[Show introduction: Theme music plays. A fast-paced action sequence of the two main characters, Lynnae and June. Running, jumping, dodging, shooting, and rolling, showing off their physical prowess while their breasts bounce underneath their police shirts. Gawking criminals, mesmerized by these antics, are easily subdued and handcuffed. The duo then stood back-to-back and went into silhouette, showing their ample shapes. Cue in show and episode title.]

2411, Outback. In his secret apartment, located on the 451st floor of Victoria Tower, Mr Big looked out apon the New Darwin night scene. With twelve million inhabitants, New Darwin was the largest city on Outback. Given time, one could find anything they want there. Mr Big, with his centuries of experience, knew that for the truth.
    Albert, Big's assistant, entered the living room and offered a squeeze bottle to his boss. The little crime lord gladly accepted the cool lemonade. "Big, what are you thinking about?"
    Big made a sour face. "It's Leslie and Sammy. They were the best girls I had in the last few decades. It wasn't fair that the police raid got'em. I would've released them come this time next year."
    Albert nodded. "Yes, I must say they were particularly lively and joyous. You're going to find some new girls?"
    "Yes! But not in the usual way. I'll have some fun searching this time around! Albert, get the disguise kit!"
    "Disguise kit? Are you going to the Box?"
    "No. Like I said, my next set of girls will come about in a different manner. I need girls who can assume many roles at the drop of the hat. Girls who can play roles with conviction and spirit."
    "You're talking about actresses," Albert said with certainty.
    "Yes! It's time to 'blow up' the theater scene in this burg!" Big did his trademark laugh, hack, and cough. "The theaters are in need of a 'big' hit! I'll get what I want, and theaters will get what they want - increased turnout and profits!"
    "You are great and terrible, oh Master! There's no end to your evil."

Alister Vance, play producer and theater owner, shook his head. In his office was a rather short, lively-looking man with a fixed grin on his face. The man had a play he wanted to produce. "Mr Bloom, this play of yours would've worked five years ago. But not today. The Flat Chest Society will blockade my theater for sure."
    Joshua Bloom (Mr Big in disguise) couldn't accept that answer. "Mr Vance, it's been proven when a movie or play is picketed you can expect a dramatic increase in attendance. With its modest production values, my play can earn a king's ransom in profits!"
    Vance had seen it all before. A rather simple and inexpensive play often turned into a complex and money-eating loser. Vance was on the verge of saying 'thanks, but no thanks' when Mr Bloom withdrew a camera from his pocket. He also donned a pair of sunnies. "Smile at the birdie!" The camera went off, a bright flash filled the room for an instant. Bloom removed his shades and walked over to a now penguin-stunned Vance.
    "Mr Alister Vance, you're under a hypnotic trance. Can you dig it?"
    "I dig it, man," came Vance's monotone reply.
    The disguised crime lord was beside himself with joy. "Here's the lowdown. You're going to use all your resources to help Mr Joshua Bloom produce his play, Office Overhead. No expense will be spared, and you'll let Mr Bloom have creative control on everything. Understood?"
    "I dig it, man."
    "Excellent. At the count of three, you'll wake up. One... Two... Three."
    Mr Vance shook his head, then settled his eyes on Mr Bloom. "Oh, Mr Bloom! How did you get over here so fast?"
    "I have many talents," the little man said. "Have you reached a decision about my play, Office Overhead?"
    The producer beamed happiness. "Yes! We're going to make a mint! Sit down, Mr Bloom! We'll draw up the contract right now." Vance pressed a button on his desk. "Claire, get in here with a pad. And bring tea and cakes."
    "Yes, Mr Vance." A moment later the secretary entered. In private lust, the disguised Mr Big eyed Claire. He knew that Claire would make a perfect apartment playmate if she had bigger lungs. This is gonna work, he mused. I'll be like a kid in a candy store!

New Darwin Police Department, Central Station. Officers Lynnae Wilcox and June Parlor were with several of their fellow cops in a classroom. At the front of the room was Dr Sung and his assistant Dan Spirit Talker. In his rumpled lab coat, Sung could've been mistaken for a 20th century mad scientist. Dan, on the other hand, could easily play the part of an Indian chief. He possessed a quiet strength that many women found irresistible. But for now Dan remained single, though he did have his share of interesting dates.
    Dr Sung cleared his throat. "Good morning, officers. It's time to get recertified on your CPR skill. With basic medical knowledge, an officer can sustain a person's life until proper medical attention is provided. We will start with you, Miss Parlor."
    Parlor looked a bit surprized. "Me? Fair warning, Doc, but you may need to replace the dummy when I'm done." The other cops laughed at June's little joke.
    "I've already taken care of that. This is a brand-new dummy. It won't short out like the old one," Sung said as he had Dan walk forward. "I'll let Dan demonstrate the proper technique first."
    In practice grace, Dan applied CPR to the dummy. After a few tries Dan cleaned the dummy's mouth, stepped back and motioned to June to come forward. Grinning, June slinked up to the dummy, wetting her lips. She then bent over the dummy and applied CPR.
    "Officer Parlor, you're supposed to force air into the dummy, not suck the breath out of him," Sung said despondently. The dummy's chest was utterly flat. It would've been dead had it been a real man, but at least it died happy.
    "Sorry, Dr Sung. Guess I got carried away. Want me to try again?"
    "No, you did enough damage. I'll have Sgt Jennett try next. He has the largest internal lungs in the station."
    "I heard that!" Jennett said from the back of the room. The station cook got up and proceeded to the dummy. "Unlike June, I'm gonna make the plastic man explode!"
    More laughter ensued. The class ended after every officer practiced on the dummy. Leaving the room, June wondered why Lyn looked insufferably pleased. "What's so funny, Lyn?"
    Lyn tried to cover her face, giggling like a girl. "June, you should've been on the other side of the table. When you bent over, everyone saw the panty you had on. Good thing it wasn't your thong!"
    "Blame it on the microskirt. After all, my bottom has distracted as many criminals as my magnificent bust. Besides, the other guys knew that too. They were professional enough not to wolf whistle, unless they wanted to join the Larry Lecher Club."
    "Oh, I know, June. It wasn't that. You see, since this CPR training was scheduled well in advance, I started a betting pool on what kind of unmentionable you would be wearing today."
    June cracked her knuckles. "Really? Did you win?"
    "No, but sufficed to say the winner is obligated to buy you lunch with the winnings, and to provide you with a new bullet-proof bottom from Quartermaster Wooster."
    June stared down at Lyn, wishing her into the ground. "I'll just remember to bend down on one knee next time. What old street stomper is the lucky guy?"
    "That would be me." Turning, June saw it was Dan. June's resentment of being made an object of a bet was instantly destroyed by Dan's strong, handsome face. "I'm not old, nor have I patrolled the streets, but my work often shows me the ugly consequences of violence and crime. That doesn't make me less a public servant than you, n'est pas?"
    "Certainly not," June grinned, offering her arm to Dan. "I image that the betting pool was quite large. To be fair, you better spend all that money on me! It has to be a big lunch."
    Dan smiled as he took June's arm under his, escorting her to the door. "The Silver Platter is an excellent establishment. The pork chop plate will take care of the cash for sure."
    "Anything you say, my willing provider."

The Silver Platter was a modest cafe, but it offered the best dishes at inexpensive prices. The owner never worried about going out of business, since his cafe was a favorite for New Darwin cops. Seated at a corner table were June and Dan, finishing their pork chop order and preparing to eat peach cobbler for dessert. June glanced down at her napkin, inspecting it for major stains and crumbs.
    "That's a rather large napkin you have there, June," Dan observed. "The Platter doesn't have any that large."
    June grinned. "Oh, you've noticed. And it's definitely not standard police issue. I had to get this on special order from Wooster." She brushed off a bread crumb. "It wouldn't look good for a pretty lady to have two napkins on her chest."
    "I agree. You never have to worry about crumbs ending up on your lap."
    "Dan! You'd better not turn into a Larry Lecher." June playfully tapped Dan's hand with her spoon.
    "If I was, I would've wished your shirt was open, so the crumbs would've gone down your front! At least I'm being honest about my observations."
    June thumped Dan's hand with the spoon again. "And I prefer honest men over devious ones. At least you speak to me directly. Some men think my ears are on my breasts. Like that one over there." The corner table gave an excellent view of the dining area. On one of the counter stools was Frankie, a small-time hood with a not-so-small appetite for food - and stolen goods.
    June removed her napkin and wiped her mouth. "Thank you for the lunch, Dan. If you weren't a cop, I would've asked for your elmay address for a 'follow-up'. I'm going to find out why Frankie is wearing a jacket on such a nice day."
    "Thank you for the compliment. Like you, my natural charm and handsomeness can be bothersome at times. I find it amazing that you can resist me," Dan smirked. "If you need help, I'll be over there in a second."
    June stood up and smoothed out her uniform. "No, I find it amazing that you can resist me. Frankie isn't the violent type, but watch anyway." She then went to the counter. Some say it was blatant sexism having young female cops wear microskirts. The Police Commissioner only had to point to the statistics showing that incidents of crime go way down when female officers wore summer uniforms. Criminal men were too busy picking their own pockets when looking at a microskirted cop. Female wrongdoers were so steamed up with jealousy that they were unable to steal cars and wallets. If a female cop had an ample bust in addition to the microskirt... well, only the intensely stupid do crime in the presence of the underclad women in blue.
    Frankie was drinking coffee. He had full control of his body, but it wouldn't last. June sat down next to Frankie and gave him a solid slap on the back. "Frankie! Long time no see! I hope your stay in Geddings Prison was well spent."
    "Oss... Ossifer Parlor," Frankie managed to say. His heartbeat rose as he inadvertently eyed June's chest. Only the sight of her badge made him keep his hands at his side.
    "Yes, that's my name. But the proper word is 'Officer', not 'Ossifer'." June turned on her charm, flashing her pearly whites at poor old Frankie. "I couldn't help but think why you're wearing a jacket on a day like this. You should be sweating up a storm."
    "Not me, Miss Parlor. I have poor blood circulation." That was a blatant lie. There was nothing wrong with Frankie's circulation. His heart rate was now up to 90 beats per minute. It rose even more as he hazarded a look at June's exquisite kneecaps. 120 beats, at least.
    June's pretty eyes blinked loudly. "You could've fooled me. Six months ago you were the proverbial jackalope. Did the prison food gum up your works?"
    "No, ma'am. I don't appreciate your attempt to annoy me." Frankie gulped down some coffee, hoping the pain in his throat would cancel out his lust.
    "Annoy? Oh, I hope I'm not annoying a fine, respectable citizen like you. I just want a drink. A large, cool drink. Michael," June said to the counter attendant, "I want a 32oz glass of Lollywater. With ice."
    "Yes ma'am." Michael made the drink and gave it to June. Taking a straw, June took a long, suggestive sip from her glass. Frankie's face was showing signs of sweat.
    "That felt good. Patrolling the streets can dehydrate you quick, especially on a hot, dry, windy summer day like today. I hate it when sweat causes your shirt to stick to your chest." June raised her arms over her head in a stretch. Gaps appeared between the buttons on her shirt. Frankie had the bad luck of seeing the inadvertent peep show. He could make out parts of June's huge bra, and some of her gorgeous flesh.
    Frankie was not feeling well. His breathing was shallow and his face quite pale. "Frankie, are you alright?" June said in a honey voice. "Perhaps you better take off that jacket. You chest needs room to expand."
    The jacket came off before Frankie could think about it. Suspicion confirmed, June spoke sternly. "Frankie, please tell me you have the sales receipts for those items."
    Frankie looked like a walking electronics counter. On each arm were minicomps, watch-sized tri-dee projectors, and fashion timepieces. Dime-sized memory disks and cubes were on his chest, sharing space with earrings and jewelry. June suspected that the jacket itself was loaded with stolen goods. She scanned the whole lot with her minicomp, and was rewarded with a list of missing merchandise. "Frankie, I hope you developed a taste for prison food. If not, then you'll get your chance very soon. I'm placing you under arrest for possession of stolen goods. You have the right to remain silent..."

Inside the Durham Theater auditions were in progress for Office Overhead. The male leads were chosen. Next were the female spots. The casting manager called off applicant after applicant. Most of the actresses were fresh from college or acting school. No one relished being a waitress forever.
    Mr Vance and Mr Bloom were in the audience, making their own notes. But it was really Mr Bloom who had the final say. His lecherous little eye imaged the actresses in ever-diminishing clothing, finally seeing them in their underwear (NB). All that remained was outfitting them with plastiskin breasts. It was an unspoken rule that actresses use plastiskin breasts to enhance their forms. That way they can easily change their profiles when the public's fondness of bosoms waxes or wanes.
    Ah, but my taste for bosoms never wanes, thought Big. I think it's time to get to know the girls. "Mr Vance, perhaps now we should take a break. I'd like to conduct my own personal interviews with the remaining girls."
    Mr Vance, still firmly under Big's influence, could only absently nod in reply. Big got up and went to the waiting area. There were 8 girls left, and the lecherous little man imagined them with tight shirts and oversized lungs. "Hello, girls. I'm Mr Bloom. As you know, I have the final say on who gets picked for the play. I've taken it upon myself to give you girls the chance to prove that you have the 'stuff'. Now, who would like to go to the sauna with me and tell their life story?"
    Big's unnatural animal magnetism and seductive schoolboy charm worked on the girls flawlessly. The pawed over Big, wanting to receive his full attention. "Down, girls, down! There's only so much of me to go around! Come on, let's get nekked!" He lead his charges to the nearest private health club. Being a member, Big had all the privileges. Including the use of the largest private jacuzzi.
    And the girls rejoiced. Yeah.

Chief Talbert looked out onto the cops assembled for first shift. The short man was the antithesis of Mr Big. Instead of looking like an overaged, naughty schoolboy, Talbert was the very model of dignity, honor, and perseverance. It was through sheer determination, guts, and work that had Talbert get to where he was today. He made it a point to help those officers that demonstrated potential to become great cops. Wilcox and Parlor were such cops, but Talbert had no intention of telling them that until they were well past that point.
    Talbert cleared his throat. "Good morning. You may have already heard in the news what I'm about to say. The Flat Chest Society has started up another of its protest campaigns. The first and obvious targets will be the breast augmentation clinics frequented by teenage girls, tourists, and college students."
    There were some impromptu giggles and cut-off laughs from the audience. The FCS stages such protests to remind everyone that they still existed. Despite what the FCS wanted people to think, more women than not have their busts injected with reduction nanites. To be sure, there were women who wanted large breasts, but typically they grew just enough to fill out a bikini or to complement the other curves on their bodies. Outback women knew other ways to attract men, after all.
    The number one recipients of breast enlargement were foreign tourists and students, mainly Earthers. It was overly difficult to get nanite treatments on Earth. For those women who wanted to add a cup size or five to their busts, they took an extended vacation on Outback. It did wonders for Outback's tourists industry, not to mention the income of the augmentation doctors. An Ocker (a term used by the natives of Outback to describe themselves) was of the opinion that anything that added zest to an Earth woman's life was okay by him. Besides, Earth people need to loosen up and enjoy themselves. If that meant looking at well-endowed women, then more power to them!
    Talbert continued. "I doubt if any violence will occur, but be aware it can happen. I don't want a repeat of the Carpenter Clinic happen on our planet. Comprende?" The cops made their agreeing sounds. "Now to add petrol to the fire, we can expect a brown storm when that new play, Office Overhead, opens in two weeks. A play about gratuitous bosoms will bring the FCS like a plague of flies. I need officers to serve on the protest line. I'd like to have volunteers come forward now. All I can offer is my gratitude, and some thick steaks cooked by my at the next barbecue."
    That brought the desired result. Everyone raised their hands. Talbert pointed to the officers he needed. Including Wilcox and Parlor. Those two officers loved grilled steak. "Lynnae and June, I appreciate your willingness to volunteer. But know this: due to your endowments, the FCS might make you impromptu objects of protest. At the risk of sounding protective, I would like to have you guard the actresses backstage."
    Lyn chuckled. "Fine, Chief. We'll take the chance of being mistaken as part of the cast!"

It was now one week before opening night. A dress rehearsal was in progress at Durham Theater. Big and Albert were in the front row, watching the girls strut their stuff in a song-and-dance sequence. A reporter from the New Darwin Herald sat next to Big (aka Mr Bloom). The reporter consulted his minicomp for his next question. "Mr Bloom, can you briefly describe the plot of your play?"
    "Sure, sunny boy," Mr Bloom cheerfully said. "Office Overhead is the story of three professional women with the same problem: belly hunger. On a quest to find an eligible man to marry, the threesome all set their eyes on an up-and-coming young man in their organization. By accident, they learn of his bust fetish," Bloom grinned. "All three women decided to get bigger breasts to attract and keep the man's attention. Things just fill out from there."
    "Yes, about the bit of the women blowing up," the reporter stated. "The FCS has openly said that your play is an exercise in gratuitousness. What is your response?"
    "Gratuitousness?" The disguised Big replied in a huff. "Those FCS people need to lighten up. Anyone with a brain can see that this play is a parody on the dating scene. What good are bosoms if there's no-one behind them?"
    "Well, judging by that young lady's antics on stage, she'll never worry about becoming invisible." The reporter indicated to the actress. She was having trouble singing and concentrating at the same time. Her plastiskin bust was smaller than it should've been.
    Big sighed. "If you'll excuse me for a moment, I have to attend to the young lady here. Pam," Big spoke aloud, getting the woman's attention, "you just sing and dance. I'll control your expansion with this remote."
    "Thanks, Mr Bloom." With music qued at the beginning, Pam started her routine. Big looked on with glee, pushing the button on his remote every so often during the song. The plastiskin breasts gained cup size after cup size, the generous blouse rapidly filling up with fake flesh. The woman's dancing and cavorting caused a few buttons to pop off, exactly on que with the music. Then, at the end of the song, Pam got to one knee and raised her hands in grandeur. The blouse lost all of its buttons, the ocean of plastiskin cleavage exposed for everyone to see. Had she taken a massive breath, the breasts would've been utterly exposed, but thankfully that didn't happen, saving the show's T14 rating.
    "Excellent, Pam, excellent! You'll knock their eyes out! I mean, you'll knock'em dead! Go get changed," Big laughed. Pam willed her fake bust to release its air, closing her blouse with her hands. She went to wardrobe to have the plastiskin boobs removed. Big turned his attention back to the reporter. "There's been plays that featured growing women, usually in a dream or fantasy sequence. My play will focus on more real-life aspects of competitive bust growth."
    "So, will the three women engage in a bust-related competitions in the play?"
    "Now, now, I can't give away all the secrets to my play," Big chimed. "But I can say this - the FCS won't put a damper on attendance. Let them protest and pick all they want. They'll just demonstrate what a bunch of nincompoops they really are."
    "Strong words, Mr Bloom. The FCS won't stand still."
    "That's all they can do! They'll be dragged to the paddy wagons if they try anything else!" Big laughed, managing with effort not to cough and hack afterwards.

Opening night. Big was in his secret apartment, putting the final touches to his suit. Albert used a full-length mirror to check his coat and hair. "Big, are you at all worried about the FCS? What if there's an altercation and your makeup gets trashed?"
    "Trashed?" Big said. "It'll be those flat losers that'll get their backsides whomped. Besides, our valiant boys and girls in blue will be there to keep the FCS at a respectable distance. That'll make all the more space for the throngs of people wanting to get in!"
    "You are great and terrible, oh Master! There's no end to your evil. Which car do you want to take? The Bently 2400 or the Black Beauty?"
    "Let's splurge. Use the 2395 Rolls Royce. I like to make a memorable entrance."
    "As you wish."

Durham Theater was the center of attention tonight. Four huge spotlights pierced the night sky with shafts of light, their beams reflecting off the bottoms of low clouds. The crowd of onlookers was huge, with only a tiny fraction of them belonging to the FCS. 50 strong, the FCS people held placards and banners, marching and chanting their disapproval of the play. The police were in force, vigilant sentinels intent on keeping the peace. There were cops inside the theater too. Most where plainclothes, milling with the tickholders in the lobby and theater proper. Only a few were in blue, including Lynnae and June. Backstage, the buxom duo were watching the female leads as they were tended by makeup artists and wardrobe people.
    "You know, June, I both envy and feel sad for those actresses," Lyn observed.
    "How's that?" June said incredulously.
    Lyn patted the side of her right breast. "Unlike us, they're totally flat. They can put on or remove their busts like they would clothes. Speaking of clothes, those women have a greater selection available. For them, it's a matter of 'will I wear this with my chest or not?'. It's a convenience I wish I had."
    "And what's the sad part?"
    "Those women have to remain flat to retain the maximum amount of flexibility. If they get any sort of top, it'll limit their casting opportunities. Who wants to play the part of the lingerie model or the ample housewife for the majority of their acting careers?"
    "That's easy! You can make a great tri-dee housewife, while I'll keep the boys glued to my scarcely-covered body," June said with joy. "Already three men have mistaken me for an actress. I think I'll let #4 keep his assumptions intact."
    "Just don't let yourself get distracted. We're on duty, and our superiors will be checking on us."
    "Speak of the Devil. Here comes the boss," June came to attention at the sight of Chief Talbert. The short man wasn't alone. By his side was his wife Susan. For the past 75 years Susan had to dress her David every morning and for each social event. Tonight was no different. David had on an expensive suit, right down to the shined loafers and fashion watch chain. Susan was quite radiant for being over 100, but with prolong her body was still that of a woman in her 50's.
    "At ease, both of you; this isn't Home Guard training," Talbert chuckled as the two officers relaxed. "I've decided to check for myself on how you're doing."
    "It's what we expected, Chief," Lyn said, motioning to the actresses. "We're trying to stay out of the way most of the time. Good thing we're not wearing microskirts for this, otherwise we would've been mistaken as part of the show."
    "I quite agree," Talbert said, "and a shame. Tonight the bad guys will have to settle for gawking at your ample shirts instead of your naked legs."
    "David!" Susan playfully punched her husband in the arm. "I can't take you anywhere!" She giggled, bending down to plant a kiss on David's forehead. "Officers, my David here my be tough and grumpy at work, but at home he's nothing but a big cuddly bushbear. I should've expected this when I married a short man."
    "Susan, it's you that I can't take anywhere. That's what I get for marrying a giant woman."
    "175cm doesn't make me a giant, you 150cm dwarf. Let's get back to our seats now. We've already embarrassed ourselves enough in front of your 'men'." Susan gave a quick peck to David's cheek.
    "Okay, honey. Lyn, June," Talbert said, his two officers doing their best not to giggle outright, "you will, of course, have the common decency of keeping of what you heard to yourselves. Comprende?"
    "Yes, Chief." June managed to say between her teeth. It was only when the Talberts had left the area that both cops let loose with a laugh.

A grand limousine pulled up to the entrance of Durham Theater. Out stepped Mr Bloom and his assistant, Mr Holthouse (who was actually Albert in disguise). The photographers from the newsies took their pictures. Had those cameras been of 20th century vintage, the whole scene would've been in a constant blaze of white light. Mr Bloom waved to the onlookers, but turned sour when he heard the FCS protesting.
    One protester made it to the cordon, her absolute belief in her cause gave her the courage to yell. "Mr Bloom! Your play is an exercise in depravity! Women are much more than walking pairs of breasts! Your play is turning back the clock centuries!"
    "Absolutely untrue!" Mr Bloom (aka Big) yelled back. "In fact, women have the greatest number of options available to them for the first time in history! What's wrong with adding a few centimeters to the bust and hips to compliment a woman's figure?"
    "Centimeters?! It's more like meters! Your play portrays women as walking, hyperinflated pieces of lust!" The protester countered.
    "Ma'am, if you're indeed that," Mr Bloom said, drawing a few catcalls from the crowd, "I would've taken your statements seriously if you had breasts worthy of the name. Don't knock them until you try them!"
    The Flat Chester wanted to jump the cordon, but two cops restrained her. A riot nearly occurred, and the newsies had something to show for the 10 o'clock news hour. Mr Bloom and Holthouse entered the theater, making for their luxury third-row seats.

At 8:10 the play started. The first act established the three female leads were in search of an eligible man to marry. That man showed up, and the women began their competition on who would get him.
Talbert and his wife sat in the third row. Next to them was Mr Bloom and his assistant. Talbert had the nagging suspicion that he saw Mr Bloom from somewhere. After all, people tend to remember seeing very short men. Mr Bloom was perhaps 8 centimeters shorter than Talbert, and his face was quite good-looking for someone his age. Talbert just chalked it up to the fact that some people responded to prolong treatments better than others. Curiosity satisfied for now, the station chief turned his attention back to the play, which had now started on its second act.
Act 2 focused on the women's efforts to gain the man's attention. It started from simple things like leaving pens on his desk to accidental spills of coffee. It was at this point that the man went to the restroom to get some towels. The woman who caused the spill took a quick look through his desk. She discovered a copy of Bosom Beauty, a magazine devoted to the special allure of top-heavy women. The other two women also did the spilled coffee bit and found the magazine. Separately, all three women went out had nanite augmentation. So ends Act 2 and the beginning of a 15 minute intermission.

The disguised Mr Big was ecstatic. The audience was quite happy with his play. Big wished he could see his inadvertent fans' reaction when they discover the play was penned by humanity's most notorious and lecherous criminal. That wasn't going to happen for some time; Big intended to wring out as much money as he can from the play before disclosing himself as the true author. That'll make tens of thousands of people really indignant!
    Backstage in Wardrobe, Big was complementing his 'girls'. In his mind he was making a decision on which two girls would be his planetside partners for the next three years. It was a very difficult decision to make. There was the lovely girl of Malaysian extraction, the typical Outback sheila, and the exquisitely toned girl from the northern reaches of Melbourne. After the play's first six-month run, the two chosen girls will drop from sight. They'll have the dubious honor of being Big's live-in companions, pleasuring him with oversized lungs of natural flesh. Plastic boobs just don't cut it for Big!
    Out of habit, Big took out a cigar and lighter. "Sorry Sir, no smoking allowed in Wardrobe." Big looked at the source of those words. He nearly swallowed his fine Havana in shock. It was none other than Officers Wilcox and Parlor. Out of the whole of the NDPD no female officer matched the displacement of the buxom duo. "If you still want to smoke, there's a lounge down the hall." Officer Parlor motioned to the hall behind her.
    "Thank you, Officer." Big said smoothly. Damnation! Why the fuddleducks where these two assigned here? They could've run interference against the FCS! "I hope this guard duty isn't too boring."
    "Hardly boring at all, Mr Bloom," Office Wilcox said. "I've learned just how busy it can get backstage. If me and my partner were posted outside, there truly would've been a riot. You shouldn't torment those FCS people, Mr Bloom. That's something Mr Big would've done, that evil little freak."
    "Perhaps it was for the best we were assigned here, Lyn." June tapped her nightstick. "This play is a perfect hunting ground for Mr Big. He would like to get his grimly little hands on these women and add them to his private harem. Considering his love for bosoms, he would've made those girls so huge that they couldn't stand up in a gravity well. Too bad you weren't able to put him out of his misery when you had the chance."
    "So true, curse his immortality. Why is it that old men are either sweet, doting grandfathers or hopeless hormone slaves? With his wrinkled prune of a body, Mr Big has to depend on his unnatural attraction to get women. Mr Bloom, what do you consider yourself to be?" Lyn winked at the little man.
    Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Mr Big mentally yelled at Lynnae. If only you and your partner weren't immune to my charm! "Well, I'd like to say that I'm a perfect grandpa, but the fruit of my loins haven't sown their oats yet. Perhaps next year. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must take a few draws from my cigar. Take care."
    "You too, Mr Bloom." The officers focused their attention back to the actresses, thus missing Mr Bloom's seething face as he headed for the smoking lounge.

Act 3 followed the three women as they got bigger. With each new cup size their attempts to ensnare the young man got more and more suggestive. Blouses became tighter and tighter, the women losing buttons with the slighest effort. In one scene the trio engaged in a blouse-busting contest; the resulting flying buttons played havoc in the office, causing many comical pratfalls. Having lost their shirts, literally, the trio began wearing business halter tops. Ties disappeared between the women's breasts, along with misplaced pens and minicomps. The poor target of the women's efforts had to retrieve those misplaced items - by hand, of course!
    To stay in the running, the women had themselves get even larger, their bust measurements now greater than their heights. At the end of Act 3 there was a song and dance routine. Entitled I Want to Grow, the character singing the song professed her lifelong fantasy to have an enormous bosom. Each breath saw her impressive bust get more massive, the buttons on her blouse failing one after another. Pam, the actress playing the inflating character, finally gotten the knack of willing her plastiskin bust to grow while she sang and dance. Big was very proud of Pam, knowing that he found one of the two women he needed. The song came to its conclusion. Just like in practice, Pam's fake front was on the verge of total exposure; only two very strong buttons prevented that from happening.
    Just then the house lights raised to full, annoying Big. He sickened when he realized there was only one reason why the lights came up. The house PA system blared the voice of Mr Vance, the theater owner. "Ladies and Gentlemen, please remain calm. I have word that this theater received a phone call. The caller claims that there is a bomb in the theater. I ask all of you to exit the building in a calm and orderly manner."
    Big seethed with anger. Goddamn Flat Fronts! Knowing them, there is a bomb here! The FCS, like any organization, had its militant wing. The Flat Fronts took direct action against nanite manufacturers and augmentation clinics. And people. While the FCS tried to legislated nanites into oblivion, the Flat Fronts were not above killing doctors and patients who used breast augmentation nanites. Big had made a few punitive attacks on the Flat Fronts in the past, and he resolved to conduct another after tonight. But for now he was concerned about his girls. In addition to assassinations, the Flats also kidnap and brainwash buxom young women, turning them into flat-chested breast haters. Big didn't want that to happen to any woman, especially his girls.
    David Talbert was mad too. He activated his minicomp, contacting the bomb squad and the commander of the theater detail. After giving out his orders Talbert was about to leave, but noticed Mr Bloom heading backstage. The general noise of the crowd drowned out Talbert's shouting. David had Susan face him, his face serious. Having known her David for so long, Susan knew what he was about to say. "Honey, I'm staying here. I'll make sure the actresses get out safe. The Flat Fronts won't be satisfied with a simple bomb threat."
    Susan Talbert gave her husband a hug. "You be damn careful, my hopeless romantic. I'm not going to lose you to irrational bust haters."
    David kissed Susan on the ear. "I've been a cop for 75 years only because I've been careful... and damn lucky. God will take me when he's good and ready. Now, get going."
    Susan gave David one last hug before heading outside. Squaring his shoulders, David headed backstage, one hand on his badge and the other on his concealed stunner.

Lyn and June were busy herding the backstage crew outside. The bulk of the cast was outside as well. June unconsciously touched the receiver bug in her left ear, as she often did out of habit. "Lyn, I've just got the word from Barrows. We're to make a final sweep of the dressing rooms."
    "You got it, partner," Lyn replied. The buxom duo went back into the warren of partially-completed sets and work spaces. The dressing rooms all checked out empty, but showed signs of chaos. The duo attributed the mess on the floors as evidence of the actresses' haste in leaving. The duo started to leave when they spied members of the bomb squad walking towards them.
    "That was quick," June said. The bomb squad halted in front of the duo. June liked to think it was her amply beauty that made the men stop in their tracks. "Barrows must've hidden you guys under a tarp." She then noticed the large bags the bomb guys were carrying. "What's the story with the bags? Gonna take some of the actresses home with you?"
    The bomb squad chuckled. "So, our little secret is out," the leader said. "I suggest you two leave ASAP: we're about to breakout our bomb detectors. The fewer people inside the better."
    "I hear you, friend. I'll let Barrows know that you're here." June reached up to prime her collarcom. It was only then that she saw the palm-sized stunner in the leader's hand.

Big jaunted down the hallway, taking quick looks into the dressing rooms. Like the cops, he saw the signs of disarray and haste. The girls must've gotten out in a hurry. Who knows? Perhaps some of them are nekked! Big giggled. He made his way down another hall and came to a screeching anime halt. On the floor before him were the unconscious bodies of Wilcox and Parlor. Damn! If they're down then the Flats were here. Reaching into a vest pocket, Big withdrew a minicomp. He entered some commands and was rewarded with a display of the theater's schematics. Two little white dots were near the bottom of the display. Good thing I had my prospective girls were those necklaces. And a very good thing that I know the layout of this place.
    Big walked over to the officers. Looking down, he had to admire the ample chests of the buxom duo. Well, Miss Wilcox, looks like I'm able to 'cop' you again! And your partner too! Here's one for good luck! With childlike glee, Big cupped a breast with each hand (glom).
    "Mr Bloom! Explain yourself!" A very irate Chief David Talbert startled Big, causing the disguised criminal to jump up in surprise. "What the fuddleducks are you doing to my officers?"
    Big got back into his role of Mr Bloom, hoping his fake face of surprize was convincing. "I discovered these officers were unconscious. I was determining their medical condition."
    "By copping a feel? What can you learn from that?" David's florid face was ready to bust a vein.
    Oh poopie! "I, err, well... I was taking their pulse! Yes! That's the ticket!"
    David was utterly unconvinced. He reached into this jacket, pulling out a vial. "You know, there's something about you that's just not right." David pressed a finger on the vial's top. A fine mist came out and enveloped Bloom's head. The man gasped and wheezed.
    "My eyes! My eyes!" Mr Bloom writhed on the floor in pain. "I'm going to sue you for everything you have, Mr Talbert!"
    "Why sue me? You have everything you need... Mr Big."
    Mr Bloom stopped his dead bug drill. Removing his hands, Mr Bloom revealed himself as Mr Big. "So, your cop instincts were correct, Chief Talbert. What gave me away?"
    David looked righteous, staring down the little crime lord. "Aside from copping a feel from my officers, it was your cheap aftershave. Using the same brand for over three centuries is a definite sign of identification."
    "Well, looks like I'll have to stop using Sea Bass from now on!" Big got up and rubbed off the remains of his plastiskin makeup. "Don't even think of stopping me! I'm going to save my girls from the Flats Fronts!"
    David drew out his stun gun and primed it. "Unlike you, at least we know where the Flats are! It was a stroke of luck that my officers found your hideout three months ago! You're going to share the same cell with the Flats! Hands up!"
    "How about face down? Big-Kata!" In a lighting move Big leapt forwards and knocked the stunner from David's hand. In pure reflex David kicked Big in the stomach. The little pervert fell down. David set upon him, landing punch after punch on Big's face.
    "What the hell is that?" Big demanded. "You punch like a girl! Acky-Thump!" He gave a head-butt to David, dazing him. With energy, Big threw David against the wall and retrieved the stunner. He was annoyed that the gun didn't work.
    "Idiot! That gun only works for me!" David yelled. He assumed the stance of a boxer.
    "I haven't the time for this!" Big threw the gun at David's head, knocking him out cold. "I'm gonna save my girls! You just gotta work on your right hook!" Cackling, Big made for the basement level. He could hardly wait getting his hands on the Flat Front kidnapers.

In the underground sevice level of Durham Theater the Flat Front kidnapers were making for their escape tunnel. Despite their strenght, the Flats were having a bit of difficulty carrying the unconscious actresses.
    "C'mon, Bobby! The Pigs will be all over us in a minute!"
    "You're not the one lugging around bagged-up women! They're so heavy for such small things."
    "Shut up!" The Flat Leader barked. "Just be glad we didn't include those two coppers we stunned. Just how can they walk with those things I'll never know."
    "YES! You'll never know! You bunch of self-deluded wankers!" The Flats dropped what they were doing, turning around. There, behind them, was a short man in a expensive suit. "Return the girls at once or face my wrath!"
    "Hey, you're that funkin' Mr Bloom! We were going to shoot you next week, but right now is just fine!" The Leader produced a gun and fired round after round. Bloom just stood there, totally unfazed - bored actually.
    "You're hopeless. Why don't you shine that torch on my face and take a better look?"
    The Flat Leader did so, and nearly dropped his flashlight. "Dear God! It's... It's..."
    "Mr Big! That's my name, don't wear it out!" Big march on towards the now quivering Flat Fronts. The scene fades as Big's face filled up the imaginary camera lens.

Two days later. David Talbert was recuperating in Maryland Hospital. Currently he was the center of attention of his wife Susan and two of his officers, Wilcox and Parlor.
    David propped up on his pillows. "It looks like Big has gotten the better of us this time. Just the same, it was good thing I stumbled upon him when I did. Who knows what he would've done if he had more time?"
    "You said it, Chief." Lynnae teased her NDPD pin. "It wasn't the first time Big touched me, but it was just as creepy. I'm breaking out in goosebumps just thinking about it. You took an awful risk yourself. Big could've easily killed you."
    Susan held David's hand extra hard. "My David had received his share of bumps for the last 75 years. I'm grateful that he wasn't killed. When he goes, it'll be in the comfort of his bed."
    David shook his head. "Susan, with all the things God has tasked me to do I will never die. Besides, who'll be around to keep Lynnae and June out of trouble?"
    "Chief, we don't get into trouble. We arrest people who commit trouble," June said with chutzpah. "Big went home empty-handed - all the actresses were accounted for. The Flats we found in the theater said their group had eight members. There were only six. Typical Flat banter - they always give themselves more credit than they deserve."
    "Speaking of credit, why did the Flats target the actresses?" Lyn said with wonder. "After all, those girls were naturally flat."
    David sipped some water. "Chalk that up to the convoluted thinking of the Flat Fronts. In their minds, they saw the actresses committing vicarious sin. That is to say pretending to sin is just as bad as committing actual sin. True, the girls were flat, but they would've been brainwashed and turned into breast haters anyway. An object lesson for everyone to see."
    June looked thoughtful. "If anything, Chief, it was the Flats that were taught a lesson. It had to be Big that knocked out and tied up those losers. Just where will that midget pervert strike next?"

[Eight weeks later - Big's secret apartment]

Mr Big sat in his luxurious bathroom. Before him was a large bath. It was large enough to hold 12 people comfortably. Right now it was accommodating just two women. Two women with what had to be enormous breasts. Only the very tops of their globes broke the surface, the remaining mass kept out of sight like submerged icebergs. Large patches of bath bubbles covered the exposed flesh, reinforcing the iceberg image.
    One of the women rubbed the tops of her breasts, making a balloon-squeaking sound in the process. It was clear her hands couldn't reach the front of her beachball breasts. "Oh, Biggy! They're wonderful! I was such a fool to believe that breasts were playthings of the Devil."
    Big grinned. "I don't know, Natasha. Perhaps you're not wrong!" Big laughed as he recalled the last eight weeks. After knocking out the Flat kidnapers Big considered what to do with them. In his perverted little mind he devised the perfect revenge. The actresses he left alone; two female Flats were taken in their place.
    Being the uber criminal that he was, Big loved a challenge. Using his own special brand of persuasion and unnatural attraction, Big converted the two Flat Front women into delightful energetic babes. Along with courses in makeup and pleasuring, and the good graces of overworked fifth-generation nanites, Big had the girls brought up to his standards. Make that out and round to his standards.
    Laura, the other woman, got up. The point of view changed to her backside, preserving the show's T14 rating. But her cute bottom could be shown without impediment. "Biggy, as much as I like being this huge, can't you make us a bit smaller?"
    "Don't fret, my ample companions," Big replied warmly. "In a few weeks you'll be able to lace your fingers in front of you. Besides, I like to see you girls try to escape from the tiny dresses I have waiting for you. Gossamer silk stitched with gold thread. And that's only the beginning!"
    Natasha giggled, her bust making miniature tsunamis. "Oh, Biggy, thank you! I do have one request. I've misplaced my soap bar. Can you come in and find it for me? Pretty please?"
    Big sighed, and removed his robe. "It's sure as sugar that the bar is between your bazooms. You girls are insatiable!"
    Laura sat back down and leaned on Natasha's mass. "We were taught by the best. Get over here, you little sexy man!"
    Big jumped into the bath, cannonball style. The imaginary camera lens was covered in suds that spelled the words 'the end'.

[End Credits: still shots from the current episode and theme music plays. Ends with the duo in silhouette. Fade to black.]

END 21

The song "I Want To Grow" from the play Office Overhead

Just as the flowers bloom in the spring
and the birds all fly proudly and sing
the wonderful truth that makes itself known
is that all living things just want to grow