                           Mail Bomb
                           by Mark T
                       (tales@netgate.net)

	Shelley laughed.  No, she thought wildly, it was more of 
a cackle, really.  Quite authentic.
	She tapped her fingers together for a moment, then typed 
the last few digits into the middle of the paragraph.  She 
felt the tension in the room increase as her spell drew taut.  
But she grinned as she completed the subject line and 
prepared to hit "send" -- the spell still hadn't gone off, 
just as she had planned.
	She'd be famous, she was sure.  Well, not personally 
(that could be unhealthy), but her computer persona "Wize-
Ass" was sure to go down in the annals of Internet history 
for this, the first stealth e-mail spell bombing in history.
	Shelley wasn't really sure why she was doing this, 
except to prove that she could do it.  It was fun working out 
the ins and outs of a complex text-only spell that would 
activate upon a reader's *seeing* the trigger phrase.  And 
the best part, she chuckled softly to herself, was the fact 
that she had searched long and hard to find the right 
Atlantean spell that started with the word "Re", the 
Atlantean goddess of fertility.
	She guffawed out loud, not able to contain her mirth.  A 
spell which would only be triggered when a person *replied* 
to her mail bomb!  This was fabulous!  Nobody would trace her 
down, and nobody would be affected except those nosy 
busybodies who liked to whine about net "abuse."
	It was kind of a shame that the best spell she could 
find with a trigger phrase which started with "Re" was a 
breast enlarger, though - Shelley had hoped for something 
more negative, like increased flatulence.  And she was unsure 
what would happen when a guy triggered it, though she 
imagined it might be fun to watch.
	Still, with the mass bombing she was going to do, she 
might single-handedly increase bra sales in the country by 
tens of thousands.  She smiled wickedly at the thought of the 
mayhem that was going to ensue once she sent out her 
anonymous mail bomb.
	She had long since perfected mail bombing, to the point 
that it was boring for her.  She used a list server to 
generate mail nearly simultaneously to thousands of people, 
by setting up the listserver with a randomly-generated list 
of people culled from the worst of the newsgroups - 
alt.sex.fetish.* and those pervs in alt.sex.stories.
	The listserver was on a remote machine she'd cracked 
last year, running in protected mode and untraceable back to 
her.  It accepted for distribution email only in a very 
strict format, so it was secure against anyone else using it 
for bombing.  And she had it forward back to her any 
complaint mail the listserver got - it was the most fun part 
of the bombing, reading everyone's little whines and 
tantrums.  Little idiots, she thought.
	She hit "Send" on her mailtool and giggled.  She leaned 
back to await the chaos, and for a breather scanned a few 
newsgroups.  Her mailtool changed icons and flashed once, but 
she ignored it - she got a few dozen emails every day, 
usually nothing special.  She almost never had responses to 
her postings, since she always posted anonymously.  She dove 
into a flamewar in alt.2600 for fun, spammed the alt.fan 
hierarchy with a standard "get a life" flame, started up a 
cancelbot for anything from the "interramp.net" domain (hey, 
even a cracker can perform a public service, she smirked), 
and finally opened her mailtool.
	The screen popped up and she looked it over, to find the 
window full of listings, all the same.  And all, she saw as 
her eyes widened in horror, replies to her mail bomb.  The 
mailtool automatically opened one into a window and she 
looked down at it to find her entire message there, with a 
notice of non-delivery from some idiotic mail server at some 
minuscule ISP.  A subliminal but almost audible twang 
reverberated through her as the powerful spell she'd 
concocted was triggered by her eyes running over the subject 
lines, all prefaced with the damning "Re".
	Her eyes ran down the message in the window and then 
continued downward to her chest, where her bra was feeling 
very tight.  She struggled out of her chair, and saw out of 
the corner of her eye the mail screen scrolling with still 
more copies of her bomb.  Her bra was stretching along her 
burgeoning breasts and she groaned softly with the sensation.  
She filled her cups and began to spill over them, the tops of 
her boobs moving slowly along beneath her wool sweater.
	She wobbled towards her bookshelf, where she kept her 
spellbook.  She blinked twice, trying to think over the 
pleasurable throbbing of her bulging boobs.  How did this 
happen? She tried to figure it out, even as her hands almost 
involuntarily raised to her burgeoning cleavage to feel the 
smoothness of her breasts slide beneath her sensitive 
fingers.
	Clearly, somewhere some toy mail server had failed, and 
had even violated protocol and sent the non-delivery message 
to the Reply-To address instead of Errors-To.  She was 
breathing heavier now, and deeper.  She reached the bookshelf 
and leaned against it, looking down to find her breasts had 
stretched out her woolen sweater into two beautiful 
mountains.  Even as she watched, the mountains grew out 
another inch.  Her hands pressed in on her new growth and she 
breathed heavily again for a moment as the sensations rushed 
through her.  She let go and fell against the bookshelf with 
the shock of cessation.
	The returned message violated the listserver's strict 
format requirement, so it had forwarded it along to Shelley's 
machine.  And somehow... oh, shit!  Her autoreply feature!
	She tore one hand away from her swelling chest, already 
stretching her sweater out to unreasonable dimensions, and 
ran it along the volumes on the lower shelf, reaching the 
spellbook from which she had cribbed the breast growth 
cantrip.  She pulled it out and tossed it onto the sofa.
	Her autoreply had done her in, she realized.  She had a 
daemon set up on her system to autoreply to any email that 
started with Re: with a canned flameback, anonymously posted 
out with a return address of the same listserver the 
complaint was addressed to.  She had set it up a few weeks 
ago to save herself the effort of flaming the dead-brains who 
whined back to her postings.  But in this case, her canned 
flame went to the same lame mail server, which bounced it 
back to her listserver, which sent it to her - a vicious 
unending circle.  A massive mailing cluster fuck, which had 
filled her mailbox with dozens of copies of the reply in mere 
minutes.
	She fell onto the sofa face-first and screamed at the 
burst of ecstasy that shot through her as her massive mams 
were compressed.  She felt the unfamiliar pressure of her 
enormous breasts, and breathed heavily.  She reached down to 
the book and stopped as she realized that she had to reach 
*down*.  Her boobs had ballooned so that even compressed 
beneath her body, they were the size of large pumpkins.  And 
they were still swelling.
	In a bit of a panic now, the tension in her breasts 
still increasing, she flipped through the pages of the book 
looking for the spell.  As she flipped, she tried to figure 
out how big she was going to get.  The spell was supposed to 
double the size of the breasts, but she'd seen the invocation 
line many times... how many?  A dozen?  More?  So what would 
that do?
	She was starting to lose sight of the book now as her 
horizon was being blocked by the expanding curve of her 
cleavage.  Her skin felt so tight!  She couldn't resist 
feeling the expanding field of boobflesh before her, rising 
out of her sweater, now grown as tight as spandex, the knit 
beginning to pull apart from her frontal force.
	Two to the twelfth, she thought.  4096.  Her tits were 
going to grow to 4000 times their original size?  She *had* 
to stop this...
	But it felt so good.  She was getting so hot from her 
increasing roundness.  She managed to get the book up above 
her breasts and balance it on top of her tits.  She nearly 
orgasmed from the feel of the rough old leather rubbing 
against her taut breasts.  Her left boob was beginning to 
pour off the sofa, and she heard the sound of her knit 
sweater beginning to rip open.  She found the right page in 
the book as she was lifted to a nearly 45 degree angle by her 
now-beanbag-sized breasts.
	Her sweater finally gave up the fight, and her breasts 
tore into the open.  The sensation of the cool air on her 
firm, tight skin brought her to another rush.  She gasped out 
the counterspell and felt the popping of the spell.  She 
sighed with relief but then her breathing deepened again -- 
she was still growing!
	She could feel her tits overflowing the sofa - she was 
completely immobile now, and in a panic she yelled out the 
counterspell again.  Again she felt the popping release of 
the magic, but still she was growing.  As her tits forced her 
up further and further, she began to realize that the ceiling 
looked awfully low.
	Her breasts were now perhaps four feet across and still 
growing when she realized that she had to counterspell 
*every* invocation individually - basically break out of each 
growth loop.  She began repeating the counterspell as rapidly 
as possible, but after the second slip of the tongue which 
made her start over, she slowed down.
	She got through counterinvocation number 5 as her hair 
brushed the ceiling.  Her feet had left the sofa a few 
minutes before; she was now completely supported by her 
massive mountains of flesh.  As that fifth counterinvocation 
completed, the magic snapped around her and the growth slowed 
to a stop.
	She breathed out in relief and started the 
counterinvocation again to decrease her new developments when 
she suddenly stopped.  She had control, she could shrink 
herself anytime -- there was no rush.  She ran her hands over 
the broad plain of breast in front of her and shivered at the 
touch.  She smiled and closed the book; there'd be time 
enough for the counterspell again tomorrow.
	She rubbed herself again.  Or maybe Monday, she thought.

