Breast Inflation

“Our little project has come to fruition,” I said. “I think it’s time.”

“I’ll be right over,” she said excitedly, and hung up the phone.

Kim wasn’t fat. Curvy, yes, a little overweight, okay--but as a dancer, well, every line that isn’t straight is considered a detriment. She’d approached me to create a solution that would help her lose weight fast in time for the dance concert. What she didn’t know is that I’d failed spectacularly. Nothing worked, and a handful of lab rats with gastrointestinal distress was hardly a sign of success.

Rachel was quite pleased with her new shape. Turning to view her profile in the mirror, she tossed her mane of red hair over a shoulder and placed one hand against her stomach, flattening out the button-down shirt in an attempt to make her figure more apparent. For the first time in her life, it made a difference.

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.