Breast Inflation

This wasn't like Alice at all. She always thought things through, always planned for the worst. Her condition had defied her every effort to control it, and after far too many near-debacles and almost-disasters, she'd learned to be constantly vigilant for the first signs of a "gas attack". And when all her forethought and preparation inevitably came to naught, Alice made a point of learning from her mistakes. No longer did she keep her pills in a purse that she might misplace, like the last time, for example.

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.

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.