The Lab
by Inflate123@aol.com

     "Whoa...OK, it's starting."  It had taken months, but at
last, we'd found the answer.  A strange concoction of the lighter
chemicals of the periodic table had resulted in what could be
modern science's (and plastic surgery's) biggest coup -- a
formula that could inflate the female breast, much like a
balloon.  While it added no additional weight to the body, it did
alter its appearance from within.  Carrie was a coed with a keen
interest in science, but beyond that, as one of the less-endowed
on campus, she was eager to take a risk if it meant a better
self-image. So far, however, the risk had been slight and our
work had progressed without incident -- no pain, little
discomfort, and almost immediate (if not permanent or terribly
dramatic) results.  And this was our final test. 
     Carrie had just downed the formula and taken her place on
the examination table.  Clad in shimmering spandex, she looked
stunning, but since our relationship had remained professional to
this point, I could hardly have commented now.  Besides, the
outfit was more than merely cosmetic -- lycra allowed room for
the expansion.  Her suit also contained computerized sensors to
gauge the growth accurately.  And now, the growth was starting.
     "OK, Carrie...just talk to me."  Slowly, but definitely, her
breasts began to expand before my eyes.  As incredible as the
process was, I still had to get feedback.  "It seems fine," she
responded, a tad short of breath, "feels normal.  What's the
density on this one again?"  "Ten."  "A 'perfect' ten?" she
smiled.  For a moment, I thought it meant something.  "You could
say that," I mumbled, trying not to reveal anything.  "But
please," I replied more audibly, "this is science."  I glanced up
at her.  Her chest was swelling slowly, but evenly, with a barely
audible intermittent hissing sound as the gasses reacted inside
her body.  I had to admit, this was more than a scientific
experiment -- this was a miracle.  The computer reported her size
as just below the projected goal.  "We're close to the
target...OK, 36 C.  That's it."  And she was a *perfect* 36 C --
full, round and firm.  Utterly amazing.  Despite my better
wishes, I felt myself stiffen. "How does it feel?"  "Well, it
doesn't hurt, but going to ten's not entirely comfortable...or
dormant. It's still going."  "That's fine; there might be a
little run-on," I hypothesized.  "Um, this isn't run-on.  It's
not even slowing down." 
     She was right -- her chest was still swelling steadily. 
"Well, ten was stronger than we've tried before.  I wouldn't
worry."  "Well, I would!  *Look* at me!"  She started to sound
panicky, and looked physically uncomfortable.  The readouts
registered a 40 D, and I realized things might actually be
speeding up.  "Something is wrong!"  "The chemicals aren't
stopping...the gases are still reacting and increasing.  Just
hold on!"  I could hear the hissing, louder and no longer
intermittent, along with the impatient beeps of the computer. 
And Carrie was fast becoming enormous -- she had swollen to a 44
DD, and with her slight frame, looked like she might topple
over...or float away.
     "Stop it!"  She was crying now, and I was desperately
trying to figure out what was going wrong.  "I don't
understand...the ratio remained the...oh my God." 
     It was then I realized that the terrible error was mine. In
my hastily scrawled notes, I'd misinterpreted one zero as
two--the intensity of this experiment would not end at ten, but
one hundred!
     I was startled by a different, higher-pitched hissing noise
that broke my concentration from my notes. With horror, she gazed
at her right arm as it, too, slowly began to inflate. Her left
arm soon joined in, and for a moment, it seemed her chest had
slowed somewhat, as if the same air were distracted and eager to
invade a new area of the body. But it was undeniable:  her entire
upper torso was now filling with air!
     "Do something!" she shrieked, but I was at a loss for words,
let alone action. What I was seeing was beyond my control and my
imagination. Her lycra shimmered as it was almost maliciously
being stretched further and further by the ever-increasing
pressure. A few seconds later, her hips and thighs began to 
distend, slowly swelling at will. Only certain parts of Carrie's
body were being affected; since I didn't even know how it was
happening, I couldn't explain the seemingly random selection. 
     I quickly gathered my wits and switched from analytical
thought to emergency, irrational-situation logic. I'd created
this serum, and therefore I could theoretically un-create it. The
elements have a delicate balance, and what I needed now where the
right chemical numbers to restore that balance -- if not reverse
the process!
     Carrie's severely exaggerated hourglass shape only expanded
further as moments passed. By now, the instruments were screaming
wildly of an already too-obvious danger, and Carrie joined in
with her own halting shrieks. Her face screwed up in a wince of
torment. Her arms had blown up to six inches in diameter, her
hips had swollen out voluptuously, her legs were being pushed
apart with increasing inflated force, and her breasts...her
breasts nearly defied description.  Carrie clutched at her now-
56-inch chest clumsily with her rounded arms, as if somehow
restricting her bosom would reverse the process.  Instead, her
arm sprung back to her side, larger than it had been when she
first moved it. Her body continued to take on more and more
pressure, pumping itself up with an unseen, volatile gas. "Do
something!" she cried. "I'm blowing up all over!" 
     Sloppily I poured concoctions into different beakers, hoping
to stumble upon the proper antidote. I turned away from my work
as stitches began to pop and Carrie began to crack. She was
definitely inflating more rapidly, and more uncomfortably. She
seemed to be bracing herself for an inevitable explosion that
simply would not come. The computer in the corner flashed its
current "SHUTDOWN" state ominously, but that didn't improve
Carrie's situation -- it only meant we'd no longer be able to
track just how big she'd swollen. I heard her gasp as the
weakened stitches that joined her suit's left arm to the torso
gave way. As her clothing grew tighter and tighter, Carrie
thrashed as much as she could to resist the intense pressure from
within.  
     As the haunting hissing filled the room, I fiddled with the
test tubes until I found what I was looking for -- a basic
compound that could slow any chemical process and, depending on
the circumstances, bring about its reversal. I only hoped as I
rushed to Carrie with a beaker and poured the concoction into her
open mouth. She swallowed uncomfortably, and made a terrible face
at the taste, but managed to nod slightly to show that it was
making its way down beneath her basketball-sized bosom. I still
had no idea what the new potion's effects would be. A release in
pressure? An increase? No change?  
     We didn't have to wait long for results. Carrie's eyes shot
wide open, and her jaw shuddered. I watched as shivers shot
through her rapidly inflating body. Whatever was happening inside
her body was intense; Carrie was obviously not in control of it,
but was fighting it all the way.
     Suddenly, with renewed vigor, I watched as the inflation
actually increased. "Oh God, I'm getting bigger!" Carrie
squealed, as her chest blew up quickly under the effects of the
second wind and her hips ballooned to immense proportions.
Quickly, her distended arms, bulbous thighs, voluptuous hips and
truly enormous chest swelled to their absolute limit. "I can't
take the pressure!" she gasped. "I'm too big!  I'm going to pop!" 
My solution had failed. She had blown up just like a balloon, and
I was now sure that she would simply burst like one. 
     Then, as Carrie let out a scream, the brave remaining
stitches that held her lycra suit together all were broken with
one muffled pop. But as her clothes finally tore away from her
tortured body, I heard a different kind of hissing -- not one of
air being forced into a smaller area, but one of...release!  I
watched in equal disbelief as Carrie started to slowly deflate--
why or how the air was escaping was as mysterious as the rest of
the entire episode. Still lying on her back, she craned her neck
to watch as her arms contracted, while the pressure in her chest
subsided. She laughed out of nerves and began to cry slightly,
but I realized she would be otherwise okay; apparently, before
the antidote took effect, her condition had to get worse before
it got better. Her once-swollen body now steadily returned to
normal proportions. Soon Carrie was able to sit up; as she did,
she saw the last of the swelling disappear from her thighs and
hips. She eased herself off the table and ran to me, throwing her
naked arms around me, sobbing.
     And as she did, I felt her breasts press against me. I
realized that they were, in fact, larger than when we'd started,
and that the harrowing ordeal had actually given her the bosom
she longed for. "Carrie," I stammered, "it's alright. I'm so
sorry. You're safe now. There will be no more experiments. Look." 
I pushed her away gently so she could inspect herself. She smiled
and laughed through her tears, and hugged me again. "It's over,"
I said softly, and drew her close. 
     And then I thought I heard a slight hiss...but I could have
been mistaken.