"Whoa...OK, it's starting." It had taken months, but at last, we'd found the answer. A strange concoction of the lighter chemicals of the periodic table had resulted in what could be modern science's (and plastic surgery's) biggest coup -- a formula that could inflate the female breast, much like a balloon. While it added no additional weight to the body, it did alter its appearance from within. Carrie was a coed with a keen interest in science, but beyond that, as one of the less-endowed on campus, she was eager to take a risk if it meant a better self-image. So far, however, the risk had been slight and our work had progressed without incident -- no pain, little discomfort, and almost immediate (if not permanent or terribly dramatic) results. And this was our final test.
Carrie had just downed the formula and taken her place on the examination table. Clad in shimmering spandex, she looked stunning, but since our relationship had remained professional to this point, I could hardly have commented now. Besides, the outfit was more than merely cosmetic -- lycra allowed room for the expansion. Her suit also contained computerized sensors to gauge the growth accurately. And now, the growth was starting.
"OK, Carrie...just talk to me." Slowly, but definitely, her breasts began to expand before my eyes. As incredible as the process was, I still had to get feedback. "It seems fine," she responded, a tad short of breath, "feels normal. What's the density on this one again?" "Ten." "A 'perfect' ten?" she smiled. For a moment, I thought it meant something. "You could say that," I mumbled, trying not to reveal anything. "But please," I replied more audibly, "this is science." I glanced up at her. Her chest was swelling slowly, but evenly, with a barely audible intermittent hissing sound as the gasses reacted inside her body. I had to admit, this was more than a scientific experiment -- this was a miracle. The computer reported her size as just below the projected goal. "We're close to the target...OK, 36 C. That's it." And she was a *perfect* 36 C -- full, round and firm. Utterly amazing. Despite my better wishes, I felt myself stiffen. "How does it feel?" "Well, it doesn't hurt, but going to ten's not entirely comfortable...or dormant. It's still going." "That's fine; there might be a little run-on," I hypothesized. "Um, this isn't run-on. It's not even slowing down."
She was right -- her chest was still swelling steadily.
"Well, ten was stronger than we've tried before. I wouldn't worry." "Well, I would! *Look* at me!" She started to sound panicky, and looked physically uncomfortable. The readouts registered a 40 D, and I realized things might actually be speeding up. "Something is wrong!" "The chemicals aren't stopping...the gases are still reacting and increasing. Just hold on!" I could hear the hissing, louder and no longer intermittent, along with the impatient beeps of the computer. And Carrie was fast becoming enormous -- she had swollen to a 44 DD, and with her slight frame, looked like she might topple over...or float away.
"Stop it!" She was crying now, and I was desperately trying to figure out what was going wrong. "I don't understand...the ratio remained the...oh my God." It was then I realized that the terrible error was mine. In my hastily scrawled notes, I'd misinterpreted one zero as two--the intensity of this experiment would not end at ten, but one hundred!
I was startled by a different, higher-pitched hissing noise that broke my concentration from my notes. With horror, she gazed at her right arm as it, too, slowly began to inflate. Her left arm soon joined in, and for a moment, it seemed her chest had slowed somewhat, as if the same air were distracted and eager to invade a new area of the body. But it was undeniable: her entire upper torso was now filling with air!
"Do something!" she shrieked, but I was at a loss for words, let alone action. What I was seeing was beyond my control and my imagination. Her lycra shimmered as it was almost maliciously being stretched further and further by the ever-increasing pressure. A few seconds later, her hips and thighs began to distend, slowly swelling at will. Only certain parts of Carrie's body were being affected; since I didn't even know how it was happening, I couldn't explain the seemingly random selection. I quickly gathered my wits and switched from analytical thought to emergency, irrational-situation logic. I'd created this serum, and therefore I could theoretically un-create it. The elements have a delicate balance, and what I needed now where the right chemical numbers to restore that balance -- if not reverse the process!
Carrie's severely exaggerated hourglass shape only expanded further as moments passed. By now, the instruments were screaming wildly of an already too-obvious danger, and Carrie joined in with her own halting shrieks. Her face screwed up in a wince of torment. Her arms had blown up to six inches in diameter, her hips had swollen out voluptuously, her legs were being pushed apart with increasing inflated force, and her breasts...her breasts nearly defied description. Carrie clutched at her now- 56-inch chest clumsily with her rounded arms, as if somehow restricting her bosom would reverse the process. Instead, her arm sprung back to her side, larger than it had been when she first moved it. Her body continued to take on more and more pressure, pumping itself up with an unseen, volatile gas. "Do something!" she cried. "I'm blowing up all over!"
Sloppily I poured concoctions into different beakers, hoping to stumble upon the proper antidote. I turned away from my work as stitches began to pop and Carrie began to crack. She was definitely inflating more rapidly, and more uncomfortably. She seemed to be bracing herself for an inevitable explosion that simply would not come. The computer in the corner flashed its current "SHUTDOWN" state ominously, but that didn't improve Carrie's situation -- it only meant we'd no longer be able to track just how big she'd swollen. I heard her gasp as the weakened stitches that joined her suit's left arm to the torso gave way. As her clothing grew tighter and tighter, Carrie thrashed as much as she could to resist the intense pressure from within.
As the haunting hissing filled the room, I fiddled with the test tubes until I found what I was looking for -- a basic compound that could slow any chemical process and, depending on the circumstances, bring about its reversal. I only hoped as I rushed to Carrie with a beaker and poured the concoction into her open mouth. She swallowed uncomfortably, and made a terrible face at the taste, but managed to nod slightly to show that it was making its way down beneath her basketball-sized bosom. I still had no idea what the new potion's effects would be. A release in pressure? An increase? No change?
We didn't have to wait long for results. Carrie's eyes shot wide open, and her jaw shuddered. I watched as shivers shot through her rapidly inflating body. Whatever was happening inside her body was intense; Carrie was obviously not in control of it, but was fighting it all the way.
Suddenly, with renewed vigor, I watched as the inflation actually increased. "Oh God, I'm getting bigger!" Carrie squealed, as her chest blew up quickly under the effects of the second wind and her hips ballooned to immense proportions. Quickly, her distended arms, bulbous thighs, voluptuous hips and truly enormous chest swelled to their absolute limit. "I can't take the pressure!" she gasped. "I'm too big! I'm going to pop!" My solution had failed. She had blown up just like a balloon, and I was now sure that she would simply burst like one.
Then, as Carrie let out a scream, the brave remaining stitches that held her lycra suit together all were broken with one muffled pop. But as her clothes finally tore away from her tortured body, I heard a different kind of hissing -- not one of air being forced into a smaller area, but one of...release! I watched in equal disbelief as Carrie started to slowly deflate-- why or how the air was escaping was as mysterious as the rest of the entire episode. Still lying on her back, she craned her neck to watch as her arms contracted, while the pressure in her chest subsided. She laughed out of nerves and began to cry slightly,but I realized she would be otherwise okay; apparently, before the antidote took effect, her condition had to get worse before it got better. Her once-swollen body now steadily returned to normal proportions. Soon Carrie was able to sit up; as she did, she saw the last of the swelling disappear from her thighs and hips. She eased herself off the table and ran to me, throwing her naked arms around me, sobbing.
And as she did, I felt her breasts press against me. I realized that they were, in fact, larger than when we'd started, and that the harrowing ordeal had actually given her the bosom she longed for. "Carrie," I stammered, "it's alright. I'm so sorry. You're safe now. There will be no more experiments. Look." I pushed her away gently so she could inspect herself. She smiled and laughed through her tears, and hugged me again. "It's over," I said softly, and drew her close.
And then I thought I heard a slight hiss...but I could have been mistaken.