Really Big War, The

I woke up surrounded by a group of incredibly huge-breasted women.

Now, that's not unusual in itself; that happens to me a lot. But the strange thing was the way they were dressed. They seemed to be wearing multicolored uniforms of a spandex-like material bearing various military insignia. They had strange headsets that looked like com-links, and their long hair flowed freely from beneath these headsets.

One of the women, a tall brunette, spoke into her com-link. "He's up."

I glanced down, wondering what she meant, but then I realized she meant I was awake.

I blinked and said, "Fffppprpttppppp."

"Don't worry. The effects of the time lag will wear off."

I struggled to sit up; I was on some sort of an operating table wearing one of those skimpy hospital robes. I said, "Ti... mmmmmmmpphhhhhtptpthhhrhhh."

The brunette nodded. "The CO will tell you more when she gets here."

Suddenly there was a shuddering boom, and the room seemed to shake. Some dust drifted down from the ceiling. I realized I was in a sort of bunker, lit by bright fluorescent lights. The room continued to shake and reverberate even after the initial shock had passed.

All the women were ducking slightly. When the shock passed, the brunette looked around and said, "That was a big one. Anybody hit?" All the women shook their heads.

Except one small-framed redhead with unusually large breasts. Her mouth formed a little "O", and she started tapping her nipples with her fingers. "Sarge... I think...."

The brunette went over to her. "How's it feeling? Pleasurable? Warm? Any sense of pressure?"

The redhead nodded.

The Sarge said. "We'd better get you to sick bay. Just in case. Jones, Riley. Help her get to sick bay."

But suddenly the redhead groaned and arched her back. Her breasts surged forward, stretching the spandex of her uniform.

The Sarge moved into action. "We've got a casualty! Quick, get a gurney and get her to sick bay while she can still walk! Come on, move it! Move it!"

A couple of women rushed forward with a gurney, and instead of laying on it, the redhead leaned her swelling bosom on top of it. Then, as fast as they can manage, they wheeled her out of the room and down the hall.

The Sarge directed a fiery gaze at me. "This is all your fault," she said.

Now some of you know me as a sometime writer of fiction, a witness of strange happenings, and an unusually pleasant little creep. So how this could be my fault was beyond me. The closest I've ever gotten to this was playing around with Morphing software on my PC. But I was liking it anyway.

The women helped me up, and I found I had no muscle control whatsoever. I lurched forward and landed in the cushioned chest of the sarge. I said, "WmmmunnmpphhhhsnnnntppbpppI"

The Sarge grabbed me by the hair and lifted my head. "What was that?"

"Where... am... I?"

"New Angeles. The outskirts. Not too far from Toronto."

I nodded, and fell back onto her chest.

They shoved me, not too gently, against a wall, and waited to make sure I would be able to stand on my own. I nodded and said, "I'm fine."

The Sarge snorted derisively at that -- I let it pass -- and they all filed out the door, shooting me steely gazes as they went.

Soon I was walking comfortably around the room. It was bare except for the examination table that I had been laying on, and a small medical stand. The drawers of the stand were empty. Occasionally the walls would shake with tremors like the one I'd felt before. Also there was occasionally a low rumbling that would shudder through the floor for as much as 15 seconds, then pass.

I noticed that there were bars, or railings, mounted on the walls just over my head. I wasn't sure what they were for.

My examination was interrupted by the groaning of the steel door to my room opening. A staggeringly beautiful woman stepped through. She was tall, 5'10" or 5'11", with auburn hair and striking dark eyes. Her form was slim and athletic, and she moved with a calm grace. Her uniform was green and black, with the green covering her chest and stomach; the arms and legs were black. She had the same military insignia as the others, except there was a clover leaf on the short collar of her uniform.

Behind her was a small dark-haired woman with intelligent eyes, who moved with a studied efficiency.

The tall woman walked to the center of the room before addressing me.

"You are the happyguy." She said. It was not a question.

I smiled. "Um... yes."

"I am Colonel O'Toole. I have just taken the com in this sector, and I have been put in charge of Operation Reachback."

I extended my hand to shake hers, but when she didn't respond, withdrew it sheepishly.

"You probably want to know why you're here."

I nodded.

"Operation Reachback is one of our two options for ending this horrible Civil War which has torn Can-American society to shreds for almost a decade. We have recently developed limited time travel ability. It may be the edge we need to win this war.

"We can't go back ourselves, but we can pull in people from the past -- displace them in time temporarily. Doing this is extremely expensive, but usually not fatal for the subject."

I raised my eyebrows. "Usually?"

She ignored me. "We are identifying and retrieving those individuals responsible for this war and pulling them into the future. We hope to gain an edge in knowledge and tactics that will allow us to claim victory and re-unite the country once again.

"So far we have identified a number of dangerous individuals who we will be retrieving for information extraction. Lucky for us, they were foolish enough to collect their own names in a list that is now known as the infamous 'be-buddies' list."

I stammered, "But... I... I... really don't know...."

"Of course you don't know. Not yet. Come with me."

I hesitated, then said, "You said there were two options... what's the other option?"

The Colonel scowled. "The nuclear option."

The dark-haired assistant opened the door, and the Colonel led me through it. We stepped into a wide hallway, with large-breasted women moving purposefully through it. Large boxes of munitions were being shuttled back and forth on palette trucks. The women eyed me disdainfully, and I realized I was still wearing the skimpy hospital robe.

"Say, I'm not really dressed.... Maybe..."

The Colonel snapped, "We've got better things to do than worry about your modesty. Come on, let's get to the Command Center."

I grabbed the robe shut behind my buttocks and hurried along after her.

The command room was abuzz with activity. More large-breasted women leaned over consoles, or walked back and forth carrying clipboards. A woman approached the Colonel and saluted. "They just singed three com-bots in area 42, sir."

The Colonel frowned. "Take area 42 into a defensive posture. Let's wait until we can get some more firepower out there before we make a move. Divert forces from area 31."

"Yes, sir."

The Colonel looked at me. "This way. I want to show you what you are responsible for."

We approached a large central console that seemed to have a complex LCD display. Right now it was flicking through maps and images of supply lines and troop movements. The Colonel said, "Get me the satellite link."

Suddenly another shock shook the room. The women all ducked, and slowly straightened when the tremor died down. The Colonel tuned and said, "Make sure everyone's OK." Then, suddenly, her belly pushed forward. "Damn." she said. "Tell the doc it looks like I've got a little tummy sensitivity this time. See if she can drum up some resistance pills." She pushed at the curve of her belly and muttered, "I don't have time for this."

She turned to me. "New Angles fell to the rebels about a month ago. We've taken this position to try to recover the city. I can link into the city using the Infonet, and we can use some of the security and monitoring devices we've hidden there to give you an idea of what's going on."

The screen flickered, then presented an image of an outdoor shopping mall. It looked fairly peaceful. There were some men in uniform lounging around the mall, but otherwise that was the only sign of unrest.

The Colonel pointed to the sky above the mall. There were sudden flickers and flashes. "Here, you can see where the fighting is happening."

"People are dying out there?"

She looked at me like I was an insect. "People? No. All combat is conducted by com-bot. Why would you send a person into battle?" She shook her head. "But here... watch. You're about to see why we're fighting this war."

On the screen, an amazingly shapely blonde strolled into the camera wearing a slinky pink dress. Suddenly a gang of boys came into the picture. One of them held up a small device and pointed at the blonde.

She seemed to jump, then turned and started yelling at the boys. But something was happening to her. There were two dark spots on her dress now. As she yelled, her chest began to shake and jiggle. Her breasts were growing, and the dark spots -- wet spots -- were growing, too. She straightened and gasped, and clutched her growing breasts with both hands. They slid up and out of the dress. Little spurts of milk started coming out. She staggered back, her breasts roughly the size of basketballs now, the milk streaming down her front.

The Colonel growled, "Turn it off. We've seen enough."

I said, "Wait... maybe we could watch...."

"That's just one example of the hideous devices the rebels have come up with. Milk rays, float waves, trick bras, and of course, enhancement barrages. There is no end to their depravity. We fly over and drop extra-sized relief bras for the female population in the captured cities, but the real relief will come when we wipe these scum off the face of the earth."

"Float waves?" I asked, but the Colonel was already moving.

"This way." She walked from the Command Center and into the hall. Talking over her shoulder, she took the tone of a history teacher. "After the Really Bad Experiment in '04 that vaporized Los Angeles, the women of the civilized world joined forces. They decided that allowing men to hold positions of leadership or responsibility was an idea who's time had passed. Even before the Really Bad Experiment, things were out of hand. Standard bra sizes were ranging into the middle letters of the alphabet. Women were wearing servo mechanisms just to carry themselves around. We tried to pass legislation, but the consortium of bra manufacturers blocked our every effort.

"See, the bra consortiums had made so much money off the andromorph technology that they had a virtual deadlock on world politics.

"So a small band of women freedom fighters strapped on their combat bras and took down the consortium with a series of well-planned guerrilla strikes. Then they began taking down the companies supplying the andromorph technology.

"Soon the problem was solved. At least, for a time. All the male-dominated governments of the world were overthrown, and replaced with more enlightened female leadership. Men were relegated to their proper roles as workers and servants. All seemed fine; society was running as it should. But we should have known that rebellion was inevitable."

A siren blast interrupted her. "On the walls!" she shouted, running for the wall. Now I saw what the bars on the wall were for. All the women in the hall ran and hung from the bars, leaning against the walls, their feet inches off the floor.

Then the Colonel shouted, "Valerie! Come on! There's no time!"

I turned to see the Colonel's dark-haired assistant stooping to pick up her clipboard. A panicked look was in her eyes. I could feel the start of the low tremor that I'd felt before. Valerie ran to the wall, and jumped for the bar, but slipped and fell back to the floor. The women were shouting and reaching for her, but it was too late.

For a moment it occurred to me that maybe I should be worried, too, but then the wave hit.

The floor shook with an oddly pulsating, sickening rhythm. Valerie, still standing on the floor, began to bulge. All over she was swelling. She staggered back from the wall, and started looking around, her face strangely rounded. She got bigger and bigger from head to ankle until her inflation was too much even for the spandex of her uniform. One by one military insignia started popping off and dropping to the floor. The uniform ripped loudly down the side.

Then Valerie began hopping in a funny way on her toes; almost like she was trying to keep hold of the ground. Each little hop took her a little higher, though. Suddenly, as she finished filling out, she floated smoothly up to the ceiling of the hall.

I looked up; oddly, she had a pleasant, dreamy smile on her round little face.

When I looked around, all the women hanging onto the wall bars were glaring at me.

The wave passed, and the Colonel jumped down. She walked over below where Valerie was floating. "Valerie! Are you OK?"

Valerie said happily, "Hmmmm...."

The Colonel snapped, "Grab her foot. Let's get her to sick bay." She pointed at me. "Come with me. I want you to see this."

We walked down the hall, the Colonel keeping a fast pace in front of me, a non-com holding Valerie's foot and trailing her along like a big pink balloon. I said, "Look, I don't understand. What has this got to do with me? All's I did is write silly stories."

The Colonel stopped at the double door leading to sick bay. She glared at me. "History tells us that one summer you flip out suddenly. Go whacko. Completely irrevocably insane. However, you maintain your native genius, and begin to apply it in a broad range of scientific disciplines. Genetics, biophysics, computer imaging, high-energy physics, a complete mis-mash of seemingly senseless pursuits. But then three years later you shock the world with your results. The first fully functional andromorphic device. A 'breast enhancement ray'.

"At first it seemed like a harmless toy, but the result is this." And she pushed open the door to sick bay.

There were beds everywhere laden with beautiful women. Some were sitting up, some were unable to. Many simply leaned forward over the huge mounds of breasts before them. Most were moaning and rubbing their nipples. As I stumbled into the room, shocked, one young woman reached forward and cried pitifully, "Milk me!" There were buckets on the floor filled with milk, and a strange device to the side of the room with two huge oval openings on the front. A sign on the device said, "DO NOT TRY TO USE THIS MILKER WITHOUT ASSISTANCE." I stumbled back into the bed of a pretty blonde. The jarring of the bed set something off. There came a hissing sound, and her breasts began to swell and inflate, slowly lifting up. She, too began to rise, and slowly floated up to the ceiling.

I tripped over a full bucket of milk and fell face-first into the three-foot cleavage of a gorgeous black-haired woman. I struggled to free myself, and when I finally stood up, she looked at me with pleading eyes and asked, "Are you here to stop this insanity?"

I staggered back to the doorway. The Colonel was slim as ever, except her belly had started growing again, slightly. She pressed a pneumo-hypo to it and injected herself with something. The surge of her tummy began to shrink.

She pointed the pneumo-hypo at me. "Well, are you proud of yourself?"

Being bombarded with such a heavy guilt trip from so many beautiful women was obviously having an emotional effect on me. So the Colonel told a non-com to take me into one of the isolation rooms to recover. I collapsed on the skimpy bed there, sobbing deeps sobs of remorse. The non-com sat in a chair in the corner and started leafing through a fashion magazine.

I looked up, and swore through the tears, "I do not know what it is I will do, but I swear I will do everything in my power to make this right." The non-com took a piece of chewing gum from a pocket in her uniform, and resumed leafing through the magazine.

Suddenly a jar shook the room. It was another hit, a big one. The non-com jumped up, her eyes darting around the room. Then she placed her hands over her breasts and moaned loudly.

I stood. "Are you OK?"

She moaned again. "Mmmmm.... so warm.... pressure..... oooohhhhh...."

"I think you got hit. Quickly, let's get you to sick bay!" I reached out to help her up, but to my surprise, she grabbed my hand and placed it on her breast.

"Oooooohhhhh....."

I felt, and her nipple was hard and erect. And rather large, too. I wiggled it a little bit just to make sure.

Then her chest surged forward. I worked my way around behind her. I cupped her breasts in my hands, hoping that perhaps I could slow the growth. But the mounds of soft flesh were growing steadily, squeezing through my fingers, pushing my hands out.

She pushed backward, and her butt pushed into my crotch. With a note of shame, I realized I was fully erect. Fully engorged. I tried to keep my somewhat painful erection from rubbing against her butt cheeks, but her growth in front was pushing her back into me.

Her breasts were now stretching the spandex suit past it's limit, and her chest and shoulders burst free. I could not hold her breasts anymore; they sank to the floor. She squirmed until the constricting spandex came off her, and she knelt in front of me wearing only her panties. She was wiggling her behind dangerously into my crotch, and my already painful erection started to throb.

We strive to be heroes at all times, but there are times in which we cannot.

The barriers of self-control and reason suddenly collapsed inside me. I like to think that something in the enlargement barrage also made me horny, but in calmer times I admit it was only my own weakness of character that I succumbed to.

I had her panties off in a flash, and was probing her nether region with my diamond-hard erection. Her hand came up and guided me brightly into the prize. I thrust and thrust as she moaned and huffed. The giant mass of her breasts jiggled with the exertion. Together we rocked, moaned and sweated until we both cried out in exhilaration and release at once. As I came, I leaned into her hard and felt myself pumping into her almost endlessly.

When I was done, I slumped in exhaustion onto her back. She slumped in exhaustion onto the still growing mounds of her breasts.

It was then that I knew what I had to do.

"I am going to make this right!" I said, standing. I gathered the hospital robe around me.

As I stepped through the door, she brushed a strand of hair from her face and said, "Hey! Where ya goin?"

I ran through the halls. There were shouts, and the blare of a siren. I heard many footsteps behind me, but I did not stop to look back.

The hall joined up with others in a labyrinthine tangle, but finally I found a door to the outside. I pushed through it into the sunshine. The door was facing the edge of a forest. I ran into it.

I listened for the sounds of pursuit, but there were none. I ran through the forest alone, praying that I was going in the right direction.

The confirmation came when the huge com-bot swiveled and trained its guns on me.

"Un-identified non-combatant intruding in area 26," came a metallic, male voice. "Identify yourself at once or be destroyed."

I stooped, panting from the exertion of running. "You have to stop this. Terrible... terrible..."

Now a clearly human voice, male, came from the com-bot, "Non-combatant in area 26: what the hell are you doing out there? Get out of there, you idiot!"

"Let me talk to whoever is in charge. I have something important to say."

There came a muffled conversation from the speaker, "...don't know... pacifist? ...naturalist? ...hell, don't ask me..."

Another male voice came on the speaker, "Hi. Look, you'd probably better get out of there. There's an fly-over neutron bombardment scheduled for area 26 at 1300 hours."

So then I spoke:

"I need to tell you. This is wrong. This is all wrong. The female form is a shrine. It's not a toy to be tampered with just to suit your ... our ... sick perversions. Let it be. Let it be as it is. Breasts serve a natural function. They provide milk to the young. In measured doses. They don't need to be large to be beautiful.

"All the forms of the female are beautiful just as they are. We need to learn to appreciate that. Large, small, flat, rounded. It doesn't matter. It is all a part of the natural cycle, the process of life-giving. That is what's beautiful.

"I don't know what it is that I will do that causes all this, but I am pleading with you now to set it aside. There has been too much... inflation and swelling and growing. How would you like it if women caused our penises to spontaneously grow to outrageous sizes?

"On second thought, don't answer that.

"I am sorry, so sorry. From now on it will be my mission in life to bring to others a recognition of the beauty of the female form, regardless of size of this or that part of their bodies. They are gentle. They are love. They are woman."

I buried my face in my hands and sobbed openly.

The speaker was quiet for a moment. Then the voice said, "I'm going to send a chopper out to pick you up. Chuck, get the enemy on the line and ask them to hold off until we get this whacko out of there."

So that's my story. My experiences in "Free" Angeles and my subsequent return to my own time are not important. I only hope it's not too late to alter a destiny that should never be.

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