Problem, The

“Control, this is the lab. We have a problem.”

The administrator frowned and stabbed the intercom button. “I don’t like problems.”

“I know,” replied the intercom nervously. “But we’re seeing some unexpected results from batch A23 on subjects. Please, check the cam feed on 14…right away.”

The administrator swiveled to the desk monitor with a grunting sigh. The screen flickered to life, and audio followed. The observation room had just one occupant: a female form in the standard-issue black lycra skinsuit, blonde hair, face too far from the camera to see — but the silver belt was plainly visible. The microphones detected a hissing, interrupted only by a wheezing. Both were coming from the subject.

The young woman on the screen clutched at her midsection, gasping for breath in small moans. Her hips began to flare below her sensor belt; her chest began to grow. The administrator’s eyes flicked to the digital overlay in the corner of the monitor. Green numbers began to climb: 27. 31. 37.

The blonde clutched at her swelling form in disbelief; she was clearly not prepared for this. A stretching sound was faintly audible as her breasts and hips rounded further, forming an exaggerated hourglass. The hissing increased as the numbers turned yellow. 43. 47. 51.

“Somebody help me!” cried the subject, banging at the one-way mirror. “Jesus, I’m blowing up!”

And she was. Her breasts and hips had hit cartoonish proportions, rounded and taut. The spandex continued to stretch, but the belt cinched her mercilessly. The hissing had deepened further, and the numbers climbed into an angry red: 67. 71. 73.

An out-of-breath lab assistant suddenly burst into the room, gripping a clipboard and a walkie-talkie. “Did you see that? Are you watching?” he asked in a panic.

The administrator didn’t look away from the monitor, where the sobbing blonde dared not touch her own inflated body. The lycra pulsed and shimmered, reflecting the room lights with every invisible pump. The red digits would not relent: 83. 91. 97…and flashing.

“Ma’am?” asked the assistant nervously. “What do we do?”

The adminstrator raised an eyebrow. “We do nothing,” she replied, staring through the frightened scientist with steely blue eyes. “These results are not ‘unexpected’….and I fail to see a problem.”