Accidental Research 2

Inflation Types:
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"Danny boy... sweetie pie..."

Danny, chewing on a shoot of grass, nervously squinted at Darlene through the bright studio lights.

"...I slept with Sue."

Danny's eyes grew wide and his jaw slackened as the audience began hooting. Tears began to well up in Darlene's eyes. "But I still love you, Danny boy!" she said in her thick southern drawl. "All three of us can be happy together!"

Danny rose out of his chair, adjusted his overalls, and pointed an angry yokel finger at Darlene. "Why you [BEEP]! [BEEP][BEEP]---"

Arms and fingernails began flying and large men with very short necks began lumbering onto the stage before the TV image flickered into blackness, cutting the hullabaloo short.

"Hey, what--" Maurice blurted, sitting up in his seat.

"You know that's all scripted, right?" Brenda, one of the university's night shift custodians, asked as she entered the break room.

"Maybe," Maurice replied. "But after watching shows like this, I like to think I live a better life than them."

"Not much better," Brenda muttered under her breath.

"Hey! Like you're one to talk, fatass."

Brenda waved him off and turned her back, grabbing the coffee pot to make a fresh round. Holding the pot in the sink, she turned the valve on the faucet. The faucet wheezed as she turned the knob, but nothing came out. Brenda raised an eyebrow before scowling.

"What the hell? You turned off the water to the sink again, didn't you?"

"No," Maurice grunted, "I've found better ways to get under your skin."

Brenda knelt to check the shutoff valve underneath the sink. Indeed, it was fully open.


"Why does it seem that coffee chooses the days on which it works?"

Dean Richards was not exactly a morning person - a character flaw exacerbated by the necessity to wake up at the asscrack of dawn each day. This day was no different. Long before his wife and kids were up, he was already finishing up his daily glance through the morning paper and enjoying a cup of joe. As he put down the newsprint with a satisfied sigh, something at the edge of his vision caught his eye. He stood from the breakfast table and walked over to the counter, where he found a rumpled wrapper sitting next to the coffee maker.

Decaf. His wife had used decaf coffee grounds when she set up the coffee maker the night before. "Dammit," he muttered. "Is she trying to kill me?"

Without time to make a fresh pot of the real stuff, the dean got dressed for work, kissed his sleeping wife on the cheek, and left the house. As he backed his Jag out of the driveway, his conscious thoughts became dominated with self-aggrandizement. Today was the day he was up for a promotion. If everything went as he expected, he would no longer be merely the Dean of the sciences school, but he would move up to be one of several vice-presidents of the entire university. No longer would it be his job to deal with piddly professors and low-life students. No, he would be dealing directly with the REAL movers and shakers of the university: the fat cat alumni and donors. And he'd get to sleep later!

As early as he left in the mornings, the drive to the university was always fairly smooth. However, a mile or so away from his parking space, traffic came to a standstill. "What the hell?" Richards thought, quickly turning around and trying to find an alternate route. Only problem was, all the other routes were equally backed up. He attempted to use his cell phone to call his secretary, but nobody would answer, not even the voicemail. With few other options, he parked his car in a remote lot and walked the rest of the way to his office.

After a half mile, all of the roads leading into the campus were blocked off. And then he heard the sound of a helicopter, seemingly in the direction of the science building. But he couldn't see the science building yet, as the huge new fine arts center was still between him and his destination. His pace quickened a little bit as a fire truck passed him on a nearby street, driving in the same direction.

Finally he approached the fine arts center in a full-tilt run. As he made his way through it, he saw a group of people collected at windows and doors at the other end of the building. They were all looking and pointing in the direction of Richards' building. Pushing his way through the crowd, he walked through the door and saw what everyone else had seen.

The science building was gone. At least, it wasn't standing any longer. In its place was a huge... what the hell WAS that anyway? This huge blob stood taller than the building used to, and surrounding its base was a smattering of bricks, twisted structural steel, slabs of fractured concrete, and chunks of air conditioning ductwork. Looking a little closer, he could also see desks and computers littering the ground around this... thing.

Richards sank to his knees. The science building - his shrine, his temple - was in ruins. He allowed himself to fall backward onto the dew-moistened sidewalk. After a moment of staring into the orange sky, he felt a buzz on his leg, accompanied by a muffled jingle. Slowly rolling to the side, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dragged it up to his face. It was his secretary, on her cell phone. His ringtone of U2's "Beautiful Day" jammed away, the music no longer dampened by his pocket. Richards winced, thinking, "Fuck you, Bono," as he opened the phone and pressed the TALK button. "Richards," he sighed.

"Bill! Are you on campus yet?" his frenzied secretary asked.

"Yes," he moaned, now almost writhing on the ground.

"Have you seen---"

"YES, dammit!" He removed the phone from his ear and held it in front of his face as he shouted into it. "For Christ's sake, how could you NOT see it?!? Whatever in God's name IT is, I have definitely seen it!!!" He let his arms fall to the ground for a moment, the phone laying on his chest, before he regained his composure. He heard a couple of nearby students snickering behind him. Breathing out another sigh, he lifted the phone off his chest and returned it to his ear. "Sorry," he said into the phone.

"Right," his secretary responded, clearly at least a little put off. "It's just that..."

Silence overtook the conversation for several seconds. "What?" Richards interjected.

"Well..." his secretary paused again, before finally continuing. "Let's just say that what you're seeing isn't really an 'it', per se."

Richards' brow crumpled. "What? What in the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Um... just come to the building and... uh... you'll find out."

"Right," he said, and then pressed the END button on the phone before snapping it closed. Working up a burst of strength, he unglued himself from the sidewalk and brought himself to a standing position. Three news helicopters now circled the blob like buzzards, preying on what would undoubtedly be today's top story (and tomorrow's, and the next day's, most likely). Gathering his wits, he began his march.

His secretary met him halfway. "Come this way," she said, leading Richards around the back of it. Along the way, they had to sidestep the various chunks of shrapnel the building itself had been reduced to. He could only wonder what this thing was, and where it came from. Completing their circumnavigation, he swore he thought he could see a head protruding out from its side. "Nah," Richards thought to himself, "you're going crazy---" and then it became obvious that it was, indeed, a head. With hair. And a face... that he recognized. His eyes widened.

"DR. BRAND???" Richards exclaimed.

"Uh, hey boss," the soon-to-be-former professor responded.

"WHAT IN GOD'S NAME HAPPENED?!?" Richards continued, scratching his head.

Robin sighed, only able to look back up at Richards with a sheepish grin.


Dr. Brand's employment with the university was terminated immediately, for obvious reasons. However, once she announced on the news that evening that she would be donating herself to further study of the incident, numerous researchers from around the world began clamoring for plane tickets to get to her and sign a research contract. Within a week, Robin had agreed to an indefinite contract with Polar BeAr Research, a local startup R&D company, mostly due to their proximity, but also because of their plan for research. They were going to do steady and incremental research, whereas everyone else had wanted to try a bunch of different things at once - something their test subject was not too fond of. Plus, PBR didn't take themselves too seriously (as evidenced by their name) and seemed to have good heads on their shoulders.

Transporting Robin off the campus was no easy task, and one that required delicate planning and execution. After scrapping several ideas, PBR finally decided on lifting her out by constructing a huge net out of multiple layers of intertwined bungee cord. Computer simulations indicated that Robin would be safe. They finally built the net, laid it out on the plot of land next to her, and carefully bulldozed her out of the science building ruin and onto the net. Then, it took the strength of ten military helicopters to hoist her off the ground and transport her to the PBR facilities a few miles away. PBR had constructed a makeshift canopy to house her until they could build a facility robust enough for their research.

Richards did finally get his promotion, and after a couple of months, he used his new leverage to file a civil suit against Robin for the damage done to the science building. PBR threw the weight of all their assets into the legal battle, forcing them to freeze construction on the new research facility. When it came out in trial that faulty plumbing and poor building upkeep had led to the incident, the university lost any foothold they had on the case, and Robin and PBR won. They then turned around and filed a charge of criminal negligence against the university, claiming "irreparable physical damage done to the plaintiff". Richards and many others were implicated in reallocating maintenance funds into executive benevolence accounts. The trial did not take long, and did not prove favorable for the university and, specifically, Dean Richards, who lost his job and his freedom along with several others. The court also awarded $10 million in damages.

With a full bank account and all the red tape finally cleared up, PBR continued work on Robin's building in earnest. However, something about her changed during the trial. She had transformed from the idyllic research-minded scientist into a malcontent martyr out for some twisted form of revenge. Her rhetoric became decreasingly scientific and increasingly political as elections approached, and before long she was an outspoken symbol against research spending in universities. Flurries of reporters, camera crews in tow, descended upon the PBR facility to interview her. PBR caught more than a little negative press from all this, and although they pleaded with her to stop, they could not in good conscience censor her. Her diatribes continued.

And suddenly, mere days before that year's general election, it was over. Robin had disappeared. That morning there was no trace of her, just an empty plot of land with a slight indentation formed by her weight. Rumors abounded: some assumed that Robin's political enemies had kidnapped her; some were convinced that PBR themselves had hidden her just to shut her up; and the more morbid types conjectured that she was dead, having succumbed to an inevitable, explosive fate.

Nevertheless, PBR, now devoid of their greatest asset, dutifully continued work on the new building, hoping to at least put to use the information they had gleaned from Robin before her disappearance. The biggest problem, though, was that they no longer had any reference subjects. Running low on funding, they were almost forced to cancel the research program, but in a last-ditch effort, they put out a call for volunteers. Miraculously, someone responded.


Screams of laughter erupted from the cluster of young women. That is, from all except one of them.

"I mean, SERIOUSLY, Anne!" Melissa, shy and somewhat reserved, said impatiently. "Do you REALLY have to share your sexual escapades with us all the time?"

Anne, the head research intern, just stood there sporting an evil grin, her hands on her hips.

"You wouldn't know a sexual escapade if it smacked you on the ass, Melissa" Erin retorted. "Besides, if you used those boobs of yours to their full potential, you'd be doing the exact same thing as Anne."

"That's true," Anne responded. "If only some of us were nearly as lucky as you."

"Stop talking about my chest!" Melissa said desperately, blushing and crossing her arms over her generous bust, its size masked by a loose-fitting T-shirt.

"C'mon," Tamara prodded, "how big are you anyway? D? Double D?"

"At least," Leah teased.

Melissa scowled back and crossed her arms tighter, not responding to Anne's inquiry.

There was a buzz on the intercom, much to Melissa's relief.

"That must be her," Anne said. "I'll be right back. Make sure everything's ready." She bustled out of the control room, leaving the rest of the interns to prepare for the experiment.

In a corner, Melissa discreetly punched a few commands into one of the consoles, making sure to do it out of the eye of the others. She took a sip of her chocolate latte and smiled to herself.


Jamie Gregory felt like she owed something to the cause. Having been a student under Dr. Brand for three classes and being wary of her treatment leading up to that one fateful night, she had actually developed a friendship with Robin outside of the lecture hall. Their relationship was obviously put on hold somewhat after the incident over a year ago, but she still felt loyal to the rare instructor that bridged the gap between student and friend.

Now a senior, Jamie required three experiment credits in order to graduate. Experiments were generally run by graduate students who were supposedly doing legitimate researchMost of the experiment opportunities were lame and only gave one credit, so she had put it off for the last three years. Sitting in front of a computer screen for five hours, looking at pictures, and saying the first thing that came to mind wasn't exactly her idea of a great experiment. Nonetheless, she dutifully checked the science department's bulletin board from time to time, seeing if there was anything that fit her fancy. Cognitive? Boring. Visual? No. Sexual? Definitely not. But one day in the fall, her eyes locked onto a particular posting on the board:




Not only did Jamie know of Robin's involvement with PBR, but the experiment knocked out all three credits at once. She took the posting with her, made contact with Anne, and after a couple of weeks they were able to schedule the experiment.

The experiment was to take place on a Friday; that way Jamie could spend the weekend recuperating at the PBR facility if it was a success. Anne had told her to wear a swimsuit since she would be getting wet, and Jamie dressed in a tank top and pajama bottoms over it. As she pulled into the facility's parking lot late that afternoon, she noticed it was already mostly deserted as people had abandoned ship for the weekend. The front door was locked, but Jamie pressed the intercom button beside it, just like Anne told her.

After a few minutes, Anne finally came to the door and opened it. "Hi Jamie. Anne Fields. Nice to finally meet you."

"The same," Jamie replied, shaking Anne's hand.

"Come on in," Anne motioned, holding the door open. She led Jamie past the empty receptionist's area and through the quiet hallways of offices. "So what made you want to volunteer for this experiment?"

"Well, I took three classes with Dr. Brand, and actually became friends with her after a while. After what happened, and then after she disappeared, I felt like I wanted to do something, you know? So here I am."

"Ah yes," Anne said. "I'd only been here for a few weeks when she disappeared, so I didn't get to work with her very much."

"I see," Jamie nodded. They turned a corner. "So, you're an intern, right?"

"Yep," Anne responded.

"And they let you run experiments all by yourself?"

"Well, I've got a team of interns with me tonight, but yes, they generally let us work on our own after a while. Great place to work. You should consider it after you graduate."

"But on your posting it said you were postgraduate as well?"

"I just started grad school this semester. Haven't really thought about a thesis yet, though."

They turned another corner and went through some double doors, entering the experiment area.

"Well, we think we've found the right formula for the experiment, so hopefully things should go pretty quickly," Anne said as she led Jamie through another door. "And even if the experiment doesn't work, we'll still send you home with your three credits."

"That's good to know."

They entered one last door, labeled "Laboratory Control", and suddenly Jamie was in the midst of lots of computer screens and control panels. The group of interns in the control room turned to face the door as the pair walked in. "Guys, this is Jamie," Anne announced, Jamie waving sheepishly. "Jamie, this is Tamara, Erin, Leah, Claire, and Melissa." Anne motioned to each as she listed them. "I wanted to make sure we had an all-female staff tonight so that you didn't feel too uncomfortable."

"I appreciate that," Jamie said.

"Let me show you the lab."

Anne led Jamie into the massive laboratory. Brightly lit and impeccably clean, the room seemed to stretch for yards and yards, with the ceiling way above them. In the center of the room, the tile floor turned into a type of round grating with what looked like water nozzles inside it. "This is where you'll stand," Anne pointed to the grating floor. "Underneath here is the applicator chassis, which will apply the chemicals and then the water. You'll hear some loud noises. Those are just the different nozzles rotating into and out of position."

"Got it."

Anne pointed to Jamie's shirt. "And you're wearing your swimsuit under that?"

"Yes," Jamie said, pulling back a shoulder of her tank to reveal a pink strap. "But I think I'd like to keep this on anyway."

"That's fine. Whatever you're comfortable with." Anne handed her a pair of goggles. "Are you ready? Need to go to the bathroom or anything?"

"No, I went before I came. I'm ready."

Anne patted her on the shoulder and turned to leave the lab, closing the door to the control room behind her. Through a set of windows, Jamie could see the people in the control room tapping on keyboards and looking at monitors. A few moments later, Anne's voice came on over the intercom. "Okay, Jamie, we're just about ready to start. Put your goggles on please."

Jamie followed the instructions. While she waited, she peeked at the contraption under the floor. It completely encircled her at a radius of about six feet, presumably to provide enough coverage for her entire body. Some nozzles were smaller than others, and all of them were currently aimed downward, parked while not in use.

The intercom crackled again. "Here we go. Beginning stage one."

Jamie could hear what sounded like water running as the pipes underneath her pressurized. Then the smaller sets of nozzles clunked loudly as they spun up and aimed at Jamie.


The fine mist of chemicals exploded into the air, sounding almost like a city bus's air brakes releasing excess pressure. Jamie flinched through her goggles. The solution smelled of alcohol and a few other substances she couldn't quite pinpoint.

With the chemicals having been applied, the applicator chassis underneath the floor rotated its larger nozzles upward this time, accompanied by another loud sound.

After a moment, a tingling sensation began to spread throughout Jamie's skin. "Huh," she said aloud.

"Do you feel anything?" Anne asked.

"Yeah, the pin-pricking feeling you mentioned," Jamie replied, her brow furrowed.

"Okay," Anne said. "We're beginning stage two." Without much warning, the nozzles below began spraying beams of water all over her torso. The water was cold, and she initially yelped and shrunk back, but then straightened herself again after a few seconds.

"We should know pretty fast whether this will have any effect or not," Anne called. "Let me know if you feel anything unusual."

Jamie was concentrating as hard as she knew how, not really knowing what to expect. So far, the only thing that was really disconcerting to her was that her nipples were rock hard, either from nervousness or the cold water, or both. She felt a little self-conscious, even though she was only in the presence of other women. Nevertheless, she reached down to pull her tank top down a little more, just for modesty's sake. It was then that she noticed her tank no longer quite came down to the waistline of her bottoms. It was just a slight difference, but still noticeable. Jamie tugged at the shirt again, with the same results. As if to confirm what her mind was suggesting, she looked down and noticed a bulge in her abdomen. At about the same time, she began to feel the bikini top tighten slightly. Jamie looked up, almost in a daze. "Oh my God..."

"Jamie?" Anne called. "Is something happening?"


Jamie trailed off as she looked down again, lightly cupping her breasts with her hands as the water pierced her chest. The growth was ever so slight, but she could feel her breasts pushing out further, slowly overfilling her hands.


Now her bikini bottoms were beginning to feel tight as well. Reaching one hand behind her, she touched her backside a little sooner than she expected to. Her other hand slid down to her midriff, where she found it arcing out a little more than before.


"Jamie?" Anne asked again. "Is it working?" It was too hard to see from this distance.

Jamie's breasts were beginning to bulge out the top of her bikini. Now the drawstring on the waist of her pajama bottoms was beginning to feel snug against her pregnant-sized stomach, which was only half-covered by her shirt now.

Not really sure what to think, and almost in a daze, Jamie simply said, "Yes."

The control room fell silent as the interns realized that the experiment was a success. "Now that we know what works, we can stop the experiment if you wish."

Jamie thought for a minute. It had taken this long to find someone to volunteer. Admittedly, Jamie had only volunteered out of loyalty to her former professor. But even with Robin out of the picture, the experiment needed to be seen through as much as possible, and Jamie would've felt bad backing out now. After all, if one of Dr. Brand's closest students wouldn't be the test subject, who in their right mind would?

Jamie looked back down at herself. The water was still pounding her front, but she could only see it blasting her breasts as they were the only things she could see anymore, well over double their normal size by her best estimate. The collar of her tank top began to be pulled down away from her neck, revealing ridiculous cleavage made even more so by the cramped bikini top. The bottom of her shirt had also now crept up to expose her entire stomach, now probably bigger than any pregnant woman had ever had. "Well," Jamie announced, "we can go a little longer, I guess."

"Are you sure?" Anne asked.

"Well, the water can be drained up to a certain point, correct?"

"We believe so. Just let us know when to shut it off."

"Right..." Jamie acknowledged.

The drawstrings of Jamie's bottoms cinched her waistline uncomfortably, and she reached down to loosen them. She was barely able to reach around her stomach to the bow she had tied in the front, and upon loosening the strings, the pajama bottoms still clung to her midsection. Part of it was because they were soaked, but her swollen ass also had something to do with it. With some effort, Jamie managed to stretch the pants enough to fit around her backside, and they fell to the floor in a sloppy pile.

However, the discomfort remained because of the bikini bottoms, and she looked over her shoulder. The conservative pink panties (which matched her conservative pink top) were not quite so conservative anymore, disappearing into a canyon of crack between two huge buttocks and squeezing her harshly all around. Jamie came to the inevitable conclusion that they would only come off by ripping. Her breasts, which were now becoming too big for even her tank top, brought a sign of welcome relief as they finally grew too big for the bikini top. The top ripped in back, the material instantly loosened underneath her stretched tank, and her breasts suddenly surged forward, jiggling their way to a more rounded state for a brief moment.

"Okay! I think I'm ready to stop!!" Jamie shouted. Without the bikini top to bear some of the burden, the tank was unable to sustain the sudden expansion by her breasts, ripping the seams and sending both the tank and the bikini falling to the floor. Her breasts jiggled again as they burst through and rested on top of her stomach. The sound of the water striking her body had taken on a different tenor; no longer did it resemble a power-washer against a concrete floor, but rather a deeper, hollower sound as she was able to absorb more.

"Shut the water off!" Anne ordered to Claire. She tapped a couple of commands into her console, but the flow still remained as strong as ever.

Jamie changed her footing a little as the shift in weight altered her equilibrium. That motion, along with her continued growth, put enough pressure on the bikini bottoms for them to finally snap as well, releasing the pressure on her waist and allowing her stomach, now probably sticking three feet in front of her, to round out some. Jamie, now completely naked, blushed deeply, and tried her best to cover herself with her hands. Instinctively she reached first for her breasts, and could just barely get her hands around to the front of them, where she found the sensitivity of her once-dainty nipples. She could not see them, however, and so she did not know that her efforts were in vain anyway; her small hands covered but a fraction of the widening araeolas.

"I'm still getting bigger!!" Jamie exclaimed. She continued to protect her nipples from view (or so she thought) until she felt them grow out of her reach. Her hands then traveled south to guard her crotch, but it was beyond her reach as well. Her options exhaused, her face burning with embarrassment, and not really knowing what else to do, Jamie began to cry.

"The computer's not responding!" Claire wailed, tapping repeatedly on the keys.

"We need to get her out of there!" Anne barked. "Melissa, see if you can shut the emergency valve! Everyone else, let's try to move her!"

Another shift in weight caught Jamie's attention as she began to feel a little more force pulling her backwards. Trying her best to look over her shoulder, she could not see her ass as well as she used to. Her back was filling with water now too, and soon it stuck out as far as her beach ball sized buttocks. Then another odd shift as she felt her stomach and breasts growing wider. Her thighs and calves followed suit, and she had to widen her stance to keep from losing her balance. Through tears in her eyes, Jamie noticed that she could finally see her stomach sticking out from under her breasts. "My God," she thought, "how big must I be? And how ridiculous must I look?"

The door to the lab burst open, Melissa the first one through. She had rerouted the water flow around the shutoff valve the day before. If she could make up some bullshit excuse to get around that, she could get back into the control room faster.

Anne was the last one out, and tripped on a rolling chair as she darted for the door. Falling to the floor, she picked herself back up, rubbing her elbow. She didn't see that the rolling chair had bumped into a chocolate latte at the edge of one of the consoles, spilling its contents across the adjacent panel.

Within seconds, all of the women were drenched as they stood in the water stream, trying to decide how to move Jamie, who continued having to shift her feet as her legs swelled up and grew shorter. As she continued to widen, her arms began to fill with water as well, and as her breasts rose up, so did her arms, sticking out to her sides. "DO SOMETHING!!!" she shouted.

All of the women just stood there, reaching toward the blob of flesh and then pulling back tenatively. Some poked at her, then finally put their hands against her, making sure such small actions would not produce an unfortunate result. Jamie felt pressure on her crotch as her feet left the floor completely.

As the beverage seeped into the electronics of the control panel, sparks began flying and smoke permeated the control room. The shatterproof windows to the laboratory clouded over.

Jamie's body continued to rise as it approached double digits in diameter. She felt her breasts begin to bulge again before they flattened against her rounded body. She couldn't see much, but she could feel them stretch as her expanding surface overtook them. Likewise, far beneath her, she could feel her ass flatten against the floor as her buttocks were similarly stretched across her circumference. In mere moments, the various bulges that had so dominated her figure had all disappeared, her womanly physique now little more than spherical. Her hair rested against the top of her rounded surface, no longer able to dangle as freely as it used to. She tried to move her hands and feet, but found herself to be completely immobile, the streams of water still piercing her skin.

The next thing she knew, she was being rolled backward, out of the way of the water, and then rotated around to face the same direction as before. Jamie cried harder as she felt hands touching her in places usually only touched by herself. At least Anne had the forethought to only use female assistants! As bad as this was, she thought she might explode from sheer lunacy if it were men touching her in this fashion.

Before long, Anne's face appeared. "Don't worry, Jamie. We'll fix this." Jamie just continued to cry as Anne removed the goggles from her eyes.

"The shutoff valve isn't working!" Melissa shouted knowingly after pretending to fudge with it for a few moments. She brushed a few strands of wet brown hair out of her eyes. "I'll go to the utility bunker and shut it off there!"

Anne, seeing that Melissa had indeed shut the valve, agreed. "Hurry!"

As she turned to leave, the fire protection system kicked in, and the door between the lab and the control room slammed shut. Melissa's eyes grew wide as she saw the thick smoke just beyond the windows of the control room. A moment later, the fire sprinklers high above began spewing gallon after gallon on everyone below. The klaxons of the fire alarm echoed throughout the room. The lights shut off, and everything fell dark, dimly lit by emergency lights.

Jamie passed out, the rapidly worsening situation too much to endure.

Cascading malfunctions began to sweep through the entire system.

There was a loud clunk underneath the floor. The water flow stopped.

Everybody fell silent.



The next thing Anne knew, an elbow clocked her across the forehead, and she fell backward in a daze. There was another thud in the floor, and the streams of water resumed. What followed can only be described as a whirlwind of hairpulling and clawing as the five women standing around fought to seek refuge from the water. In their struggles of self-preservation, they really only ended up in a pile on the floor, each one pinning another down so as to share in their fates.

Anne had fallen out of the fray when she was struck. Pulling herself up on her elbows, she waited for the throbbing pain in her head to clear, then quietly observed the spectacle from a distance before backing away, unnoticed and forgotten. The sprinkler coverage throughout the room was pretty dense, but it seemed to be slightly lighter against the walls. There was a lab table there that she could sit under for a time.

Crawling under the table and crossing her legs in front of her, Anne scanned the room. The pile of women (which, it should be noted, was already growing noticeably wobblier, even from this distance) did not stray from the middle of the room. The control room door on the wall adjacent to her was locked, possibly irreversibly so for now. The only real option was the ladder leading to the catwalk on the opposite wall, which was separated from Anne by the fracas on the floor and by the unconscious and immense Jamie. Anne dared not venture near the center of the room, out of fear of being drawn into the melee and getting stuck. So, she would have to go along the perimeter of the room, a distance totaling well over 100 feet from her current position.

Not wanting to surrender the shelter of the table, she put each hand to a table leg and pushed as she moved along the floor on her knees. The table was quite heavy, having solid oak legs and frame with a stone table top, so Anne was only able to move about a foot at a time. In reality, she was still getting soaked from the sides, but the table was doing some good, at least. Nearing the first corner, she slightly winced in pain as her jeans cut into her waist. Pausing, she sat upright and lifted up her T-shirt, finding her midsection muffin-topping her hip-huggers. "Already?? Dammit!" she thought, surprised at the pace at which her body was changing. "I'd better hurry."

She continued to push the table, trying to also push aside the pain her pants were causing her. After another couple of moments, the pain crept down to her knees as well. Her legs were swelling, making them increasingly harder to bend as the denim refused to stretch. Left with little choice, Anne flipped over onto her back and began fumbling with the jeans. After expending considerable effort, she managed to unbutton and unzip the pants, and then slowly peel them down her legs like the skin from a banana. "This is so ridiculous," she thought to herself, pondering the circumstances that necessitated shedding her clothes in such a setting. Satisfied with getting the jeans down around her ankles, she was a little shocked at how thick her slender legs had become. In her seated position, the string of her thong that stretched around her sides disappeared between her bloated thighs and stomach.

Returning to her hands and knees to continue her roundabout trek to the ladder, she was stunned into inaction as she caught a glimpse of the other women in the center of the room. They were quickly becoming round like Jamie, and were all in varying stages of immobility. "I guess this table is doing some good after all," Anne thought, thankful that she hadn't quite reached that point yet.

Tamara and Claire were nowhere to be seen, possibly behind Jamie. Leah was upright, but with her arms and legs swollen as they were, she was unable to change her position. She had also lost all of her clothing, the remnants of her T-shirt dangling around her neck. Erin was in front of her, lying on her back, her breasts just barely being contained by her polo, stretched far too thin. Her tanned skin shone through the dark fabric.

But Melissa was definitely worse off than any of them. She was already much bigger and mostly rotund, her breasts starting and ending the list of her noticeable features. Only an embattled pair of black panties covered any of her body, and even those weren't doing much for her. Her right boob propped her up against Erin's body. All three were trying their best to isolate themselves from one another.

"Get your tits off me!" Erin shouted at Melissa. "You're squashing me!"

"I would if I could, you fat bitch!" Melissa shouted back, unable to move any part of her.

"Fat?? Yeah, YOU'RE one to talk," Leah shouted from above. "What are you now, a quadruple Z?"

"Shut up!"

As Melissa continued growing, her breasts continued to spread out and flatten, much like Jamie's had. They eventually reached a point where they were too small to hold her up any longer, and Melissa began rolling.

"Whoa! I'm falling!" Melissa wailed as her boobs rubbed against Erin's side before rolling free of her. She rolled head over heels for a few feet before bumping into Jamie's huge form and bouncing back. The bounce caused her to momentarily bulge, and that instant increase in pressure was too much for her panties, which sprang off her like a rubber band and shot into Erin's side before falling to the floor. "No, my panties!" she squealed. She continued rolling ponderously backward until she bumped into Leah and came to rest nearly upside down.

"Whoa, Mel!" Leah called, getting an uncensored view of Melissa's bloated underside. "You blow-up slut!"

"SHUT UP!!!" Melissa screamed from underneath, her face aflame with embarrassment.

"Bwahahaha---whoa!!" Erin cackled before her breasts burst through her shirt.

Anne watched in amazement and amusement at the goings-on in the center of the lab, until her own shirt burst open. While her attention was focused elsewhere, her breasts had rapidly filled up her tiny shirt and ripped the side seams. In her position, her belly and breasts both dangled beneath her, brushing against the floor. She couldn't keep crawling for long, lest she soon resemble a beached whale.

And yet, Anne became mesmerized by these new additions. Struggling with her swollen legs, and without really thinking, she got out from under the table and brought herself to a shaky stance. Her belly now poked out a couple of feet in front of her, and her now huge breasts rested wobbily on top. She raised a hand to hold one, feeling its firmness.

She had obtained in such dire conditions what she had desired her entire life.

"If only I could use these babies in the sack!" Anne thought, giving the boob a gentle squeeze.

Of course, then she realized her mistake of exiting the table's underside, and attempted to climb back under, but her fattened legs refused to bend. Desperate, she tried to take a quick step to the side, but forgot about her jeans still around her ankles. The jeans pulled tight as her foot moved, and she toppled sideways, landing harshly on her huge backside. The momentum caused her to roll over onto her stomach, then back onto her back, over and over again. Unable to move her legs, she could only try to stop her rolling by sticking her hands out, but even they barely reached the floor anymore.

As she approached the center of the lab, she watched as she rolled past several of her fellow assistants, all of whom were now too helplessly large to do anything but scream at each other. Finally, Anne came to rest next to Jamie, lying on her massive stomach and breasts, no longer able to touch the floor with her hands.

Just her luck, too: never mind the fire sprinklers, Anne ended up right on top of the main applicator chassis.


It had been 45 minutes, maybe an hour since Anne could move anything other than her head, although she really had no idea exactly how much time had passed. The sprinklers had shut off some time ago, and the ruckus in the lab had died down by this point, as the other women had either shouted themselves hoarse or had passed out due to exhaustion from such. Every now and then she felt what could've been vocal vibrations from another girl touching her, but it was too hard to tell.

Enough time had passed for the reality of it all to begin to sink in. Emotionally, Anne was getting past being disturbed about this. Mentally, however, she was still trying to bridge the disconnect between what she had become and what her brain still thought she was. In the same way that amputees often have ghost limbs following surgery, if she tried to make a fist, her brain told her that she was making a fist. Never mind that not even the slightest movement was taking place. It became especially frustrating when Anne felt an itch on her thigh. Instinctively, Anne tried to reach behind to scratch it, and although her brain told her she was scratching her thigh, she became frustrated when she felt no relief. She had to remind herself that 1) she no longer had hands, 2) she no longer had thighs, and 3) even if she did have both, one would be far out of reach of the other.

Her work with Dr. Brand, albeit brief, solidified in her mind that this transformation was more or less permanent. They had tried to drain some of the water to see if that would help, but after Dr. Brand complained of skin discomfort, it wasn't attempted again. So, absent any doubts about that, Anne was able to cope with her new body surprisingly well. Obviously, it would require a significant adjustment in all aspects of her life: she would no longer be able to provide for herself much, if at all. Who would care for her? Where would she live? All questions that would need answering.

Now, however, there was little she could do but wait until someone found them.


Jamie was stirred from sleep by a tickling sensation on her nose. It felt like someone's hair was brushing her face. She opened her eyes to find Anne's face just a few inches from hers.

"Hi," Anne said.

"Whoa!" Jamie yelped, causing Anne to flinch a little bit. "Sorry, you scared me."

"It's okay," Anne assured her. "How do you feel?"

"Uncomfortable. And chilly."

"Yeah, now that I think about it, warm water probably would've been better."

"Well, at least you don't have a billion gallons of---wait a minute," Jamie paused, catching a glimpse of something beyond Anne's hair. Moving her head to the side, she found a whole lot more of Anne. "Oh my God! You too??"

"All of us," Anne responded. "Murphy's Law."


"Pretty sure I'm the biggest too. I ended up right in the water stream."

"You mean you're still getting bigger??"

"Yeah, I can still feel the water going into my tummy... at least, where my tummy was."

"Aren't you afraid you might... you know..." Jamie didn't want to say it.

"I think we both know that would've happened by now," Anne interrupted calmly.

"Well, aren't you weirded out by this at ALL???" Anne was taking this way too casually, and it was making Jamie uneasy.

"Not really. I mean, I was at first; how could you not be? But now I think it's great. This will make a KILLER topic for my graduate thesis!"

"WHAT?!" Jamie was dumbstruck at the words she just heard. "But you'll never return to normal!"

"'Normal?'" Anne chuckled. "This is way better than 'normal' ever was. I just love being so huge and exotic..."

Jamie was too shocked and confused to even respond. Anne was ENJOYING this!

"And to be honest," Anne grinned, "it was REALLY hot having huge boobs while it lasted."

This personal turn in the conversation now left Jamie too embarrassed to respond this time.

"I wonder what sex would feel like now." Anne broke eye contact with Jamie as she daydreamed. "I mean, if it's even possible..."

Jamie only blushed in reply.

Good question. What if it WAS possible? And if it was, Anne hoped that her pleasure was directly proportional to her size. She mentally transported herself out of her cold, dark confines and into a much more pleasing setting.

Anne visualized herself in an open field on a hot summer afternoon, her bare round body bathing in the sun. She was mostly upside down, looking up at herself, with her underside aimed skyward. Her own mass shielded the sun from her eyes. A soft breeze gently whipped her sweat-soaked hair as it dangled below her head. Beads of perspiration, tiny and numerous, graced her vastness, each one lightly tickling her as it rolled down the smooth curve of her moist, taut skin. The warmth of the water within radiated throughout her being, plunging her into a dreamy state. The Anne in the dream revelled in this perfect peace, unable to move and unwilling to even if she could. As the massive orb lay there in its rotund glory, a new sensation caught her attention as a nameless, faceless lover mounted her high above, well out of her own view. Anne gasped as this anonymous admirer began to pleasure her, her body beginning to rock back and forth slightly as her moans of rapture emanated from below. And as her form bobbed and gyrated, consumed in her own ecstasy, a tingle built up in her groin, and after a few minutes...

Anne returned from her reverie, finding herself breathing a little heavier. Still inches from her face was Jamie, still uncomfortably silent and still avoiding eye contact. "Sorry," Anne offered, even a little embarrassed herself. Jamie still looked away, her face about to burst into flames.

Several awkward minutes passed. Anne pondered her dream once more (albeit silently this time), attempting to flex her vaginal muscles. She couldn't even feel them, much less feel movement. But the muscles in her pelvic floor had to be there and they had to be working, otherwise she (and the others) would just be peeing the water out. That would be a point of observation and further research, to be sure. And it would definitely be going in her thesis.

Finally, she grew tired of the silence and spoke up. "Well... any guesses as to how big we are?"

"I don't know," Jamie responded. She closed her eyes for a moment and concentrated on her size, waiting to see if a number magically came to her that corresponded with the sensations of being so enormous. Finding none, she opened her eyes again, finding Anne still looking at her. "Might as well be a thousand feet. I feel HUGE."

"Yeah, I can relate," Anne chuckled.

A few more moments of silence prevailed.

"Well, it'll be a while before the next shift comes, so it wouldn't hurt to get to know each other," Anne suggested. "Besides volunteering for bizarre science experiments, what do you like to do?"

Jamie hesitated for a moment, again looking away. She was still rather uncomfortable with what had happened to her. And yet Anne was even larger than her and still growing, and she was getting some kinky pleasure out of it! It didn't make sense. She found herself wanting to get to know Anne better, to try to understand why she actually PREFERRED herself this way.

Hell, as crazy as it sounded, with Anne's help, maybe Jamie could learn to like it as well.


Elsewhere among the blobs of flesh inside the lab, Melissa was being uncomfortably squeezed against a wall, her face squished between two other ladies' bodies. She didn't know who they were, but she considered giving one of the globes a good bite just to relieve the pressure on her. But that could have disastrous effects. Besides, it would all be over soon.

It had not been part of the plan for her to get trapped in the lab with everyone else. When she had been approached with the Offer She Couldn't Refuse(tm), the main goal was to inflate everyone... but not necessarily her. Nevertheless, that goal was accomplished, which is all that mattered. With the payout she was getting, even in her blown up state she could live in luxury for the rest of her life. The things people will give up for a dollar amount with a lot of zeroes at the end.

"God, I hope this was fucking worth it."


The sound of footsteps and rattling casters echoed down a dark hall. A heavy steel door opened and closed, the clanking sound reverberating throughout the hollow chamber.

"Dr. Brand? ... Dr. Brand?" a man polled, then flicked a switch. The lights buzzed angrily as they glowed to life. "Dr. Brand?"

"What is it?" a woman's groggy voice answered, squinting in the light.

"Melissa was successful." The man wheeled a TV cart into view and inserted a tape. The screen played the security camera footage of the PBR laboratory.

"Excellent," she replied, blinking her eyes to clear the cobwebs. "Go ahead and send the formula to the party. Then call the feds and give them the green light to move all of those girls here. And tell them to be more God-damn careful this time! I damn near powerwashed the place last time."

"Got it."

"How's the bank account?" the former professor asked.

"The government made the deposit five minutes ago," the man replied. "$24.5 billion. I can picture my mansion in Cancun already."

"I'm a Hawaii girl myself. You know I won a hula contest in college?"

"I'd pay real money to see you do the hula right now. Grass skirt, coconut bra, the works."

"I don't exactly have the moves anymore. What's it worth to you?"

"Oh, I dunno. About a billion dollars, I guess."

"Make it two and I'll work up a jiggle."

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