The Haymaker, part 2

Aston awoke to her body rocking slowly in place. She was in a large, brightly lit room. The only sounds came from air rushing through circulation vents above and below her. After observing her body’s movements, she determined that the breeze from the vents was causing her to rock in place. The air was cold, and it made her very uncomfortable. Still working off instinct, she tried to rub her hands together to generate some friction. She felt nothing, not even the slight muscle twitches she had felt before. Had she grown even further?

When she had been transported here, they situated her in a “standing” position, with her head atop her mass. Even though her body filled most of her lower range of vision, Aston could get a pretty good glimpse of the entire room. She was sitting in the middle of it, with tons of room for further growth on all sides as well as up. Her body covered up her view of the floor, so she was unable to adequately guess how tall the ceiling was. All she could guess was that it was about 75 feet above her head.

“HELLO?” she called out. Her voice echoed off the sides of the room. “ANYBODY?”

A large ceiling panel opened above her, and a complex piece of machinery began to lower itself toward the stationary Aston. Looking up, four arms unfolded out of the machinery and began to open wider. “Hey, what are you—HEY!” Aston shouted at no one in particular. The arms continued their descent until they made contact with the top of her body, gently pressing down so she no longer rocked in place. “What are you doing?!” Aston shouted at the device, her head in the middle of its arms.

Another arm boasting a some sort of wide beam laser then lowered from the ceiling and passed over Aston’s entire body, and then back again.

“Initial synthesis Stage 1 complete,” a computerized voice echoed throughout the room. “Epidermal integrity higher than anticipated.”

“Well, I guess that’s good,” Aston thought to herself.

“Subject size larger than anticipated. Diameter at widest point, 23.74 feet. Growth rate of 0.02 feet per minute. Circumference at widest point, 74.58 feet. Volume, 7005.52 cubic feet.”

“Oh my God,” Aston said softly, looking down at herself.

The computer voice continued. “Calculated risk factors minimal. Proceeding with rapid synthesis Stage 2.”

The laser arm produced a small needle and began moving toward Aston. She wasn’t sure whether she liked the idea of anything sharp being close to her body. After all, by this point she was nothing more than a human balloon, and didn’t want to share the fate of the many balloons she had thrown darts at as a child. Calming her fears somewhat, Aston eventually saw that the needle was moving toward her head.

The needle stopped just below her jaw. There wasn’t much of her neck left by this point, but there was enough for the needle to do its job. Quickly and painlessly, the needle inserted itself into her neck, drained its fluid, pulled back out, received another dosage, and then reinserted itself. After four doses, the arm with the needle retreated up and out of sight. The four arms holding Aston still released their grip, causing her body to wobble slightly. Then, as the other three arms returned to the ceiling, the last one produced an oxygen mask. It moved in on Aston’s face and covered her nose and mouth, and the large arm held the mask in place.

Breathing inside the mask, Aston noticed nothing particularly special about the air being given to her. Why did she need the mask anyway? She was breathing fine before. And what were those injections?

A sudden spike in her heart rate interrupted her thoughts. Several more followed, and Aston began to worry that her heart was failing. She began to hyperventilate into the mask, and the flow of oxygen into the mask increased in response. Her heart rate continued to climb, and she tried her best to breathe as best as possible.

Then something new began to happen. The pressure on her body began to increase. Attempting to concentrate, she could not feel anything pressing on her. Her heart rate climbed again, and she found herself gasping for air. Her heart beat pounded in her ears. “So this is it,” she thought to herself as the pressure on her body continued to increase. “Another one of my uncle’s failed experiments.”

After a moment, however, Aston’s heart rate plateaued, and soon she was not breathing so desperately. The pressure on her body was getting intense, and she thought she heard a faint hissing noise, but assumed it was coming from the oxygen mask.

Then she felt it.

For the first time, Aston could actually feel her body growing faster. Every square inch of her skin – and she had plenty of square inches – was being stretched farther and pulled tighter with each passing second.

“Vital signs stable,” the voice announced. “Sustaining heart beat at 293 beats per minute for twenty minutes. Removing oxygen support.”

The mask removed itself from Aston’s face and the mechanical arm lifted up and away. She could only close her eyes and take in the sensations with intrigue. Eventually, with the mask gone, she realized the hissing noise was still present. Listening more closely, she could hear it emanating from within herself. She’d never heard that before.

Her expansion rapidly increased, first surpassing, then doubling, and doubling again the rate of growth she experienced in the apartment, until she was widening at a rate of several feet per minute. As the stretching of her skin and the pressure within intensified, Aston finally figured out what was happening. The injections had caused the arousal of her nervous system, causing her heart rate to reach an extremely high rate. As a result, more blood was being pumped throughout her body. More blood meant more gas being created inside of her.

Several minutes passed as Aston was caught up in her continued growth. Finally, she opened her eyes and jumped back (or tried to, at least). The ceiling was only about ten feet from her head and she was rising steadily toward it. Just as she began to wonder what was going to happen once her head reached the ceiling, she heard massive clunking sounds, and then a loud whirring sound as the entire ceiling started to retract.

Aston surveyed her surroundings as her head passed the plane of the ceiling. About 100 feet to either side were large platforms, where people were sitting at their desks. They were all looking at Aston, making her feel slightly uncomfortable. Looking up, the second ceiling was a long way up, calming her fears about getting wedged in here as well. Hanging from the ceiling was a large series of concentric circles, the widest one spanning the distance between the two platforms. Aston’s body continued to grow out and up, and after a while she felt her body pressing against the two platforms, now containing very wide-eyed workers. “200 feet?” Aston thought to herself. “That’s impossible.” Pausing a moment, she corrected herself. “It should be impossible.”

Suddenly, the hissing noise faded into silence, and Aston felt the pressure within her decreasing. With that, the stretching sensations subsided, and her heart rate began to slow down. She could hear a dull roar rise and echo off the walls and ceiling as the workers began to talk amongst themselves. However, she could no longer see them, as her body was so large that it obstructed her view.

The familiar laser arm lowered itself down and proceeded to scan her ridiculously globed body. It took much longer for it to make the round trip (no pun intended) this time. After what seemed like five minutes, the laser finally reappeared and retreated to the ceiling once again.

“Rapid synthesis Stage 2 complete,” the computer announced. “Vital signs normal. Epidermal integrity higher than expected.” A small cheer arose from the platforms. Aston bit her lower lip in anticipation of her size measurements.

“Initial larger Stage 1 size compensated for in Stage 2. Diameter at widest point, 251.19 feet. Growth rate of 0.0004 feet per minute. Circumference at widest point, 789.14 feet. Volume, 66,388,870.56 cubic feet.”

SIXTY-SIX MILLION.

A deafening cheer arose from the two platforms. Aston passed out.

Aston opened her eyes to a silent, darkened room. Only a few lights above her on the ceiling were lit, and therefore the curve of her body faded into darkness around her. This setting was quite a contrast from the previous one, with the employees toiling busily on the platform. Only a distant hum of the air circulation system resonated through the room. Aston felt at peace.

Suddenly, mechanical clunking sounds emanated from directly above her, and Aston looked up to see one of the hanging rings lowering toward her. As it grew closer, Aston thought she saw someone standing on top of the ring. It must have been a catwalk-type device, and then Aston realized that the catwalks must be to go around her. But why?

As the catwalk lowered to within ten feet of her, Aston recognized the person standing on it.

“Uncle!!!” Aston screamed. “I’m so glad to see you! What has happened to me?”

“Hello, Aston,” James said, smiling. The platform gently came to rest against her body, with James about ten feet from her head. However, because she was so big, her surface was almost flat at her head, and James had to kneel down on the catwalk to get closer to eye level with Aston. “I know this must be really confusing for you, but I will answer any questions for you.” Reaching out a hand, he pressed it against Aston’s tight body. Her surface didn’t give even an inch, and she chuckled slightly. “How do you feel?” he asked.

Aston laughed. “Like I should have a gondola hung from me. How did they get me out of my apartment?”

“They cut you out. I must admit, it wasn’t easy.”

“But I was on the bottom floor. There was an apartment above me.”

“I know,” James said, smiling.

“Huh,” Aston said, and then laughed. “I must ask, where did you find those clowns that came to get me? They were like Abbott and Costello or something.”

James laughed heartily. “Bud and Scratch have been our special ops liaisons for a long time.” James winked. “What they lack in brains, they make up for in comic relief.”

“Clearly,” Aston said, letting out a sigh. “You know, you said there would be a little swelling, but I never expected this.”

“No,” James started, “and you had no reason to. Aston, I was a little dishonest with you before we started this procedure.”

“What, because I turned into this? Honestly, I can’t say I dislike it that much. I’m actually quite comfortable like this.”

“No, Aston,” James said, hesitating, “it’s something more serious.”

Aston furrowed her brow. “Like what?”

James sighed. “You remember when I said that your blood, when converted to other forms, was highly combustible in different forms?”

“Yes, and it’s pretty clear that you meant a gas.”

“Correct. Now, what else did I say?”

“That you planned to make a bomb out of the gas created by my blood.”

“Correct again.” James paused. “Well, now we have the bomb.”

“OK, I’m ready,” Aston said. “So how is this gonna work? You hook up a tube or something and then transfer the gas over to the bomb? And then you’ll blow me up again when it’s time to make another bomb?”

James frowned. “Not exactly. The Martians would get suspicious of any large metal object we turned over to them. Like I said before, we had to disguise the bomb somehow.”

“So how would that work?” Aston asked.

James winced. “We’d disguise it as something organic.”

The room fell silent for a moment. Eventually, it became clear to Aston. “You mean I’m the bomb?”

Tearing up, James turned his head away and nodded.

More silence. Aston looked at James, and then herself. “There’s no other alternative?”

James shook his head.

Yet more uncomfortable silence. James began to sob quietly. Aston asked, “And if I say no, there’s probably no way for me to return to normal?”

James reached down and ran his hand delicately along her surface. Again, he shook his head.

“Why didn’t you tell me the truth before?” Aston asked.

James turned back, tears running down his face. “You have to understand, Aston. It’s not easy to tell someone that they have to sacrifice their own self. We were running critically on time, and you were our only choice. I so desperately wanted to tell you the truth, but I didn’t want to go this far without your permission.”

The room fell silent again. Aston closed her eyes and meditated, reflecting on her situation. Either she could turn her uncle down and merely stay like this forever (which was actually a pretty attractive idea), or she could do what she knew was best for her planet, at her expense. After a moment, she opened her eyes, and said, “Ok, I’ll do it, but for a price.”

James turned back to look at her. “What would that be?”

Aston smiled. “A hug.”

James studied the distance between him and her head. “You think you can support all 250 pounds of me?”

“The computer itself said that my ‘epidermal integrity’ or whatever was higher than anticipated.”

James thought for a minute. “Well… ok.” He began to empty his pockets, removing his keys, his pocketknife, and any other sharp items. He didn’t know whether she was that easy to puncture, but he didn’t want to find out. Slowly, James began to put his weight on his niece’s huge body.

“See? I told you,” Aston said, laughing.

James still moved tentatively on top of her, worried that he might be putting uncomfortable pressure on her. “Do you feel alright?”

“I’m fine,” Aston assured him. “Just get over here.”

James slowly crawled toward her head, amazed at how tight her skin was. Reaching both arms around Aston’s head, he buried her face in his chest.

“I love you, Uncle,” Aston said.

James got choked up again. “I love you too.” Sitting up, he said, “Now, let’s talk about final preparations.”

“Alright,” Aston said.

“First, we’re going to need to do a little maintenance on you, meaning that we need to remove any signs that you might be human. We don’t need to do anything to your head, since it’s unlikely anyone will ever see it. I’m talking about things like your fingernails, toenails, and any excess hair on your body. Then we’re going to give you a thorough washing, because your body probably picked up a lot of different particles in your apartment. Then we’re gonna give you a ‘paint job’ so that your skin will be effectively disguised. After that, we head for Mars.”

“Got it,” Aston said, nodding. “I still have fingernails and toenails?” she thought to herself.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” James said. Reaching back over to the catwalk, he picked up a small headset and its connected power supply. “This is so we can communicate back and forth with you without having to shout,” he said. “Everybody that is going to be working on you will have one of these as well, so if someone inadvertently hurts you somehow, you’ll be able to tell them.” Fitting the headset over her right ear, he adjusted the microphone so that it was next to her mouth. “Also, if it’s too cold, too hot, too bright, too dark, the computer will hear you when you speak into that. We’ll make the workers adjust to your preferences, since you can’t really adjust to theirs.” James stuck a piece of adhesive gel on the back of the headset’s power supply and pressed it to her body at the base of her neck.

“Alright,” Aston said. “Anything else?”

“Yeah,” James said. “Get some sleep. Things are about to get pretty busy.” He crawled back over to the catwalk and stood up. “See you tomorrow.”

“Good night,” Aston replied, smiling.

“Computer, retract catwalk #1,” James called out, and the catwalk began to rise into the air.

Aston waited until the mechanical whirr of the catwalk stopped, then asked the computer to turn off the lights and raise the temperature to 85 degrees. In the darkness, she settled down to sleep.

 

Getting Aston prepared for the launch was no small chore. With catwalks hanging from the ceiling and rising from the floor to give workers easy access to her entire body, James commented that she looked like something under construction, as the catwalks served as scaffolding.

Removing her fingernails and toenails was painful for her, but there wasn’t much the crew could do about it. Aston could’ve asked to be put under before they did it, but she decided to tough it out. At one point, James had 5 different workers stand at each fingernail of her left hand, so Aston could get an idea of just how stretched out she was. The men stood about 15-20 feet apart.

After that was over, several robotic shavers were released onto her body. Aston giggled like a little girl as the shavers raced across her, tickling her to no end. She was even a little surprised to experience a slight rush of sexual arousal as the shavers reached what had been her vaginal area, now stretched over a large region of her surface and indiscernible from the rest of her. She shivered slightly, her face turning pink from slight embarrassment.

Then came the washing. The familiar robotic arms descended upon her, this time sporting water jets. Starting near her head and spreading out and down, the jets bombarded her with cold water. Aston screamed and immediately asked the computer to raise the temperature above 100 degrees. However, the cold water was running down her surface and reaching parts of her that were not yet being washed, and Aston was shivering momentarily.

Thankfully, the washing ended, and the catwalks returned so that the workers could adequately dry her off without a blast of cold air. Aston noticed that the workers that she could see were sweating profusely from the heat that she had requested. One woman had unzipped her jumpsuit, hoping to allow her sweat-soaked t-shirt to air dry somewhat. Aston studied this woman for a moment. Her build was similar to her own, at least before this change that Aston had undergone. In fact, except for the face and hair, Aston could’ve easily mistaken this worker for her own pre-inflation self. The woman eventually noticed Aston staring at her and uncomfortably looked away.

Once they were convinced that Aston was dry, the catwalks retracted once again and the mechanical arms swooped down again. A protective covering was placed over Aston’s head, and then the arms began to spray paint on her in the same way they washed her, except slower. The paint was a fine mist, and Aston noticed that it wasn’t dripping at all. The paint was black and silicon-based, so it was both stretchy and it wouldn’t glob up. It needed to be stretchy, since, after all, Aston was still growing, albeit very slowly. James had said that they expected her to grow 75-90 feet larger in the time it would take her to reach Mars. She was a little disappointed that they chose black as the color, but it was the most non-descript color they could’ve chosen, so it wasn’t a big deal.

The painting took a long time, maybe a few hours, and when that finished it was quitting time.

“Aston,” James said through her headset, “there’s a couple of people here that I’d like you to meet. Well, formally, at least.” The catwalk above her began to lower, and she could see three people on it, with James being the only one she recognized. One was kind of short, and the other was tall and lanky. Both were wearing business suits with photo IDs attached to them. Neither of them looked incredibly intelligent. Finally, the catwalk stopped. Motioning toward the short man, James said, “Aston, this is Bud Massey,” and motioning toward the taller man, “and this is Fred ‘Scratch’ Zimmerman. These are the men that retrieved you a couple nights ago.”

“Nice to meet you,” Aston said. Inwardly, she was laughing. “These guys really do look like goofballs!” she thought.

“Whoa,” Scratch said, scratching his nose, “you’re a lot bigger than you were last time.”

“You fucking numbnutz,” Bud retorted, “of COURSE she is. Any fool can see that.”

“What about someone who didn’t see her then? Huh?”

Aston swallowed to attempt to hold in her laughter.

“Shut up,” Bud said to Scratch. “Anyway, Miss Petersen, we just wanted to come and apologize for not exactly having the best bedside manner the other night. You were going through something that—”

“No apology necessary,” Aston interrupted. “That was a weird night, but I understand everything now.”

“Oh,” Bud said, pausing a moment. “Well… good. That’s good.”

Scratch knelt down to poke at Aston’s body. “Whoa.”

“Surfer Jimbo, ladies and gentlemen,” Bud said. “How many times do I have to remind your pea-brained ass that we are supposed to act professionally?”

“You know,” Scratch said, “I never had a trampoline when I was young.”

Bud looked from Scratch, to Aston, and then back to Scratch. “NO. Absolutely not.”

“Just once?” Scratch asked.

“I can’t believe—”

“Just once,” Aston said, allowing a smile to spread across her face. “But I can’t save you if you fall off. It’s a long way down.”

Bud and Scratch both looked at James, who merely shrugged. “Ok,” Bud said, “ONCE. But take off your shoes and shit first.”

Scratch dutifully removed his shoes and cleaned out his pockets. Climbing on top of the catwalk railing, he looked down at Aston’s body below him, then leapt forward in the air.

No sooner had he landed on Aston’s body than he was flying backwards in the air. Flailing all of his limbs, Scratch was a little surprised at just how springy she was. To his delight, he had cleared the catwalk railing on his return flight, but then he realized he was heading toward the catwalk deck headfirst. He landed with a resounding clank.

“Aw fuck,” he groaned, “I think I broke my eye.”

Aston couldn’t help but laugh.

“Learn by experience, I guess,” Bud said. “What an idiot. Anyway, we’d better get going. But we wanted to officially meet you and wish you luck on your… um… eh… ‘mission.’”

“Thank you,” Aston replied.

“Get some sleep,” James said. “Lieutenant Cunningham is looking forward to meeting you. We transport you at 10am and launch at noon.”

“Alrighty,” Aston responded. “Good night.”

The catwalk began to retract into the ceiling. “Get up and stop feeling sorry for yourself,” Bud said to Scratch, who was still lying on the deck.

“Hey,” Scratch retorted, “my eye hurts. Can you kiss it and make it better?”

“Fuck you.”

Their banter continued until they got too high for Aston to hear. Turning off the lights, she closed her eyes and slept her last night on the planet Earth.

 

The whirring mechanical servos of the catwalk jarred Aston from her sleep. The large room was still dimly lit. Aston wasn’t sure what was going on, since she wasn’t supposed to be bothered until morning. The catwalk stopped just above her body and she could make out a female figure standing above her.

“I’m sorry to wake you,” a soft voice said, “but things have been so busy lately, and right now would’ve been the only chance to talk to you.” The voice paused a moment, then said, “Computer, increase lighting 25%.”

The lights ramped up and Aston recognized the woman as the one whom she had seen earlier. She was wearing a full navy blue jumpsuit with her ID on her left shoulder. Her blond hair had been pulled back into a ponytail.

“Miss Peterson, my name–”

“Please,” Aston interrupted, “call me Aston.”

The woman looked almost embarrassed. “Very well. My name is Lieutenant Amy Lancaster. I will be the one transporting you to Mars.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Aston said. “I almost expected you to be a guy.”

“You aren’t the first,” Amy said quietly. Aston was a little shocked that someone of such high rank could be so introverted.

“I know how that goes. What’s a young up-and-coming officer like you getting assigned to a suicide mission like this?”

“I volunteered for this mission.”

Aston was shocked again. “Why?”

“This mission has instilled in me a sense of… intrigue, if you will. First of all, we practically had to break the laws of physics and biochemistry to get you to this point. Plus, I am considered one of the leading experts on the current affairs with Mars. I was in charge of the colonization effort at the time of the revolt.”

“What happened after that? To you, I mean?”

“I got demoted,” Amy said, looking down.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Aston replied. She noticed that Amy was looking at the surface of her body.

“Um… may I?” Amy asked.

“Of course,” Aston said, smiling. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Amy got in a crawling position and slowly transferred her weight onto Aston, marveling at how firm she was. She began crawling carefully towards Aston’s head.

“Whoa, careful! Careful!” Aston shouted, and Amy froze, turning white. Then Aston smiled and laughed. “Just kidding. I’m fine. You have nothing to worry about.”

Amy frowned at first, and then cracked a smile for the first time. She continued to crawl until she was within a couple feet of Aston’s head. To make herself at eye level with Aston, she slowly flattened herself against the enormous mass below her, propping herself up with her elbows. “Forgive me for asking,” Amy said, “but what was it like?”

“What?” Aston asked.

Amy looked away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you weren’t ready to talk about all this.”

Aston thought for a minute, then realized what she was getting at. “Oh, you mean THIS?” she asked, looking down at herself. “You can ask whatever is on your mind. It’s ok.”

Amy hesitated, then inquired, “What did it feel like? We all saw multiple computer simulations, but I can’t imagine something like that happening to my body.”

“Well,” Aston began, “it’s kind of hard to describe. I mean, the growth was so slow at first that I barely noticed it. And then, all of a sudden, I wake up and my boobs are huge.” Aston visually studied Amy again, then said, “I was about your size, so imagine your boobs being twice as big.”

“What did they feel like?”

“Pretty normal. Except for their size, they looked normal too. It wasn’t until they had doubled in size again that they really began to feel different. They slowly got lighter, and I could feel a difference in my skin as well.”

“What about the rest of the process?”

Aston paused. “Well, I can’t really say I disliked it. I was never in any pain or anything… I just kept getting bigger. Getting stuck between the floor and the ceiling was a little frustrating.”

“I can imagine,” Amy said. “I watched hundreds of simulations, and none of them ever predicted you would get that big during Phase 1. 6-8 feet tops. Getting you out was quite a chore.”

“You were there?” Aston asked. “I’ve been meaning to ask someone the details of that.”

“Basically, we just cut the top of the building off and lifted you out with a helicopter, which then brought you here. It took several hours.”

“Wow. What happened to all the other tenants?”

“They were relocated and reimbursed.”

“I see.”

There was an uncomfortable pause in the room.

“Do you miss being the way you were?” Amy asked.

Aston thought for a moment. “I miss having mobility. But you have no idea how comfortable this actually is. As long as I had someone to keep me company, I really could stay like this forever.”

Amy smiled and gently ran her hand along Aston’s body. “Well, you’ll have someone to keep you company for a while.”

Aston smiled back. “I’m glad.”

“Well, I’d better let you get back to sleep. I just wanted to introduce myself before tomorrow. There will be plenty of time for us to get to know each other during the trip.”

“Indeed,” Aston said. “It was nice meeting you, Lieutenan—”

“Call me Amy,” Amy replied, smiling. “Good night, Aston.”

“Good night, Amy.”

 

“Hey, check this out.”

“What?”

“Just look.”

“…Now those are some TITS.”

Pete and Roger, two of the newer colonists on Mars, never saw their planet much. As part of the seniority process within the planet’s social structure, the two were relegated to patrolling the outlying border of Martian space. One thing they did see a lot of, however, was the female mammary gland.

At least they got to pilot a good ship. Their ship, the Resistor, was not only well-armed, but it was also a versatile freight vessel capable of towing and carrying cargo. Designed for a crew of only two, they got to know each other well, and Pete had become well-acquainted with Roger’s extensive porn collection.

“You think they’re real?” Pete asked, staring at the bountifully-bosomed figure on the screen.

“Who gives a fuck?” Roger laughed. “Now, in this next scene, another chick with a cow fetish will come in, paint black spots on the tit lady, and milk her like the bovine she is!”

“That’s some weird shit, man.”

Roger grinned. “Just wait until she makes hamburgers.”

A look of disgust invaded Pete’s face. “That’s messed up, man. Where do you find that stuff anyway?”

“An expert of pornography never shares his secrets.”

“Whatever.” Pete stood up to get some dinner, but realized he’d lost his appetite and sat back down. Glancing over at the radar system, he noticed something. “Hey,” Pete said, “turn that shit off, there’s something out there.”

Roger looked over, then turned back to his video console and turned off the smut. The sound of two women moaning softly abruptly ended. “What is it?”

“Looks like a cargo ship,” Pete responded. “Probably doesn’t have any armaments.”

“Where is it going?”

“It’s coming toward us, but it seems kinda stupid to fly a cargo ship right into our hands.”

“Let’s intercept it and see what’s up,” Roger said, rolling his chair over to the helm controls. Bringing the ship about, he engaged the engines. “It’ll be another 20 minutes or so before we’re close enough to radio them.” Pressing another couple of controls, the moaning returned, and Roger returned his attention to the porn.

Pete sat there, tentatively watching the two buxom ladies. He’d had enough when the tit lady, feigning an innocent voice, asked, “What are you gonna do with that cleaver??”

“I’m gonna go choke some food down,” Pete grumbled. “Lemme know when we’re there.” Roger laughed.

Pete returned to the bridge some time later, and, thankfully, the video was off. Roger turned around and said, “The ship’s engines are off. Looks like they’re drifting, so it might be an easy tow. You wanna take this?”

“Sure,” Pete said, sitting down and opening a communications channel with the vessel. “This is the Resistor. You are crossing into Martian space. Please identify yourselves.”

There was a moment of silence before a female voice responded. “This is the transport Randall. We were en route to an outpost and ran out of fuel.”

“What kind of cargo do you have?” Pete asked.

“Supplies and equipment, mostly,” the voice replied. “The outpost has experienced problems with their oxygen generation systems.”

“I’m afraid your outpost will have to get its assistance from someone else. Prepare to be boarded in one hour so we can inspect your cargo. If you try anything funny, you will be destroyed. Resistor out.”

“Whose turn is it this time?” Roger asked.

“Yours, I think,” Pete said. “I had the weapons freighter last month, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” Roger paused. “So, we’ve got about 45 minutes to kill. What to watch next?”

“Something normal.”

 

Aston sat in the cargo hold of the Randall, awaiting Amy’s return from the cockpit. She found that she missed all of the attention that she had received from the NASA workers back on Earth. Plus, the ship’s computer was not as sophisticated as she had grown accustomed to, so whenever she needed something, she had to call Amy for it.

When they had loaded her into the cargo hold three months earlier, there was plenty of room to spare. However, although she was only growing a few inches every day, after 90 days Aston only had a few feet before the once-cavernous cargo hold would become too small.

Thanks to autopilot, Amy was able to spend the majority of her time with Aston in the cargo hold. During their time together, Aston was able to learn a lot about Amy, and soon learned part of the reason for Amy’s fascination with her. The two women, having never met before, had led very similar lives. Although Amy had never married like Aston had, she had lost both of her parents at a young age. She quit school and went directly into the space program, hence her high rank at such a young age of 26. When this mission was first announced, she took a certain fascination to it, and began reading up on Aston’s profile. Amy knew she was on a one-way mission, but having someone with her that she could relate to made her very comforted.

“Ok,” Amy said as she climbed on top of Aston, “they’re boarding in about an hour, so let me explain how this should work.” She pulled out a small device with three buttons and attached it to Aston’s headset so she could reach it with her mouth. “This is the detonation control. It’s rather idiot-proof, so you don’t have to worry about accidentally setting it off. The first button doesn’t do anything. The second button will ramp up your heart rate again, so you can expect to grow a little more. After a couple of minutes, you press the third button, and then you’re a hero.”

“Got it,” Aston said.

“I have a control as well,” Amy continued, “but if I’m incapacitated, it’s all up to you. All you have to do is stay quiet. If you do that, then no one should ever suspect anything. Once we’re boarded, it’ll be another couple of days before we reach the planet if all goes well.”

“How will I know if it’s up to me?” Aston asked.

“If people start to unload you off the ship when we reach the planet’s surface, then it’s up to you. My plan is to detonate as soon as we reach the planet, before anyone has a chance to really get a good look at you. But I’ll start the process before that.”

“Ok,” said Aston.

“Well,” Amy said, “I’ve got some stuff to delete off the computers before they get here. Good luck.”

“You too,” Aston nodded.

 

The boarding party bought it. Amy was able to pass off the massive sphere as an organic “oxygen factory” and they didn’t ask too many questions. For a minute, she was even a little worried that they might not tow the ship back to Mars. Then one of the men grabbed her by the hair and led her out of the cargo hold, and she realized everything was going according to plan.

The next two days were not easy for either woman. Aston was alone in the ship the entire time, and was extremely bored. Meanwhile, Amy was on the other ship being forced to recreate some… unusual… porn scenes. Fortunately, she was kept in solitary confinement overnight, and they had not found her detonation control yet. The night before they were to land on Mars, she pressed the first two buttons, and soon after Aston began to feel her heart rate increase slowly. Since she was already so huge, it would take a lot to make her grow noticeably.

When Aston awoke the next morning, she felt numerous pairs of hands feeling along her underside. The sound of her heartbeat pounded in her ears. Slowly she realized what had happened – Amy had been incapacitated somehow, and they had landed on Mars. It was up to her.

Far below, on the deck of the cargo hold, Pete and Roger casually ate hamburgers while they oversaw the removal of the sphere from the cargo hold.

“This is gonna be a huge promotion,” Pete said. “No more graveyard shifts in the boondocks.”

“Actually,” Roger said, “I think I might quit this place and start a culinary school.”

“You’re a sick bastard.”

High above, Aston steeled herself, took hold of the control with her mouth, and bit down on the third button.

 

Nothing happened.

Aston began to panic. She bit down as hard as she could, but still nothing happened. The control was malfunctioning! She frantically began biting down on the controller in a blind rage, attempting to make something go right.

In the midst of her desperate masticating, something happened, and Aston paused. Her heart was beating faster. Her already labored breathing turned into canine-like pants as her heart rate increased far beyond what she had previously considered possible (my, how this whole experience had changed her preconceived notions of “possible” and “impossible”). As she put her entire focus on breathing fast enough to keep up with her heart, she barely noticed that her body was growing again.

Although this time, the growth was faster than ever before, and Aston was thrust into a state of sensory overload. Over her desperate pants, she could hear distant shouting coming from below as panic ensued. Catching a glimpse down, she saw the first two buttons lit on the detonation control. “So THAT’S it,” she thought, “the controls are independent!”

Aston began to see stars in her field of vision, and realized she was running out of time. She had not noticed that she was now wedged inside the cargo hold and still growing very rapidly. Reaching out with her teeth, she found the detonation button and bit down.

 

“This is Virginia Dawson with a FlashNews-33 news bulletin. FlashNews-33 has learned from various sources inside the space agency that there has been a devastating explosion on the surface of Mars. Our sources say that a majority of the colonies have been damaged and that the atmosphere in the surrounding area is extremely volatile.

“Our sources also say that NASA administrator Dr. James Cartwright was found dead in his home this morning of an apparent heart attack. Police say that foul play is not being investigated at this time.

“NASA declined to comment on either situation, but promised a full briefing within the week. We’ll have more on these developing stories for you during our 10pm newscast. We now return you to your regularly-scheduled program, When News Anchors Attack…”

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