Fiction: Annie

Prototype Subject: “Annie” began life this morning as a simple D-cup breast. Pert, firm and flawless, Annie was the kind of breast pre-teen girls prayed for, teen boys lusted for, and post teen adults remember wistfully and couldn’t quite believe ever existed. Annie had a deep dark aureole the diameter of a coffee cup but that was okay. It gave Annie character; a unique feature that further seared herself into the memory of everyone who saw her.

That was this morning. After a few rounds of radiation, supra-hormone ejections and a little quantum manipulation, Annie began to grow. She swelled to an E-cup and the lab crew cheered. She swelled to an F-cup and lab technician Peterson thought of his mother. Annie inflated to a G-cup and lab technician Hendricks knew true love for the first time in his life. Annie continued on to grow into a H-cup and the one woman in the lab, efficiency coordinator Bentz, expressed the opinion that no one really likes a large breast.

Annie burst free of the containment glass at 1:41 pm. Growing now at an exponential rate, she crushed the other more modest prototypes in seconds with her immense curves. Lab technicians ran for their lives as Annie expanded to fill the laboratory. She pushed against the safety doors as her mass increased and broke through the steel like a plus-size woman through a cheap underwire bra.

The warning klaxons blared their warning through out the entire compound. Nervous technicians poked their heads out of sensitive laboratories only to be greeted by the sight of an impossible breast crushing its way down the hallway. Unforgiving soft flesh smothered, crushed and engulfed concrete, equipment and people. For many, the last thing they saw was Annie’s dark aureole bearing down on them with the diameter of an tractor trailer.

The breast disaster took an hour. When Annie finally stopped growing, she had burst free of the eight story underground complex. Her hard nipple rose above the rubble with the brazenness of well, a bare nipple. Although she had killed quite a few people on her path to gianthood, she still retained that slight bounce that all lovely breasts have.

At the foot of the rubble stood Otto Von Madd, Doctor of Erotic Science. He looked at Annie, who was named after a busty girl Otto had felt up in High School, and he sighed. He wasn’t upset that his lab was destroyed. He wasn’t particularly concerned that his scores of laboratory technicians were either dead or hopelessly traumatized. Otto Von Madd was a scientist and like any true scientist, he was concerned about how the experiment had run its course.

Otto sighed again.

“Too small,” he said.