Female Inflation

One drip. Two drips. Three drips. Hayley watched her engorged breast swell like melons as they rapidly lactated. She was shocked to see how rapid and effective the results of the lactation creme she applied to her chest was. Her once modest B-Cups were now far past D-Cups and reaching to DDD in a hurry.

"Damn, I'm really busty now." She cheeredfully quipped at her new breast line.

Rachel was an already curvy women in her early 30s. Her hair dyed black and fashioned like Betty Page's, accented with a bow. She decorated her face in makeup that included dark eyeliner with wings and reddish lipstick.

The crew of the Recovery Routers gathered outside the locked door of the seventh and last available spaceship bay aboard their orbiting station.

Elam, a thirty-year-old maintenance man and makeshift member of the salvaging team, stared at the seam of the two heavy trapezoid doors set in their hexagon frame. Elevator-like cherry-red lights dimmed above one by one while the AI intercom methodically described what was causing all the whirring and clanging on the other side.

“Floor doors secure,” its crisp, synthetic butler voice relayed.