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DR. HOOTERS PT I
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Dr. Hooters
Wham!
The door slammed shut behind Jill Clayton, her willowy frame slumping
down in her chair. In her plain black dress, she resembled Cher, except
without the pretty face and shapely figure. "The Stick" was her nickname
throughout life, much to her dismay.
"Bite my left one!" she shouts to the world, knowing no one would
hear her. Grabbing her cold coffee, she entered the dark lab.
Click. A single light illuminated her desk space. Beakers and test
tubes refracted the light in different colors, giving her desk top an
almost church-window like effect. She sobbed slightly, looking up to the
ceiling for guidance.
"All I want is some understanding and respect. I've worked hard to
get where I am," Jill explained. "For me, having my peers respect my
research is all I ever wanted. But now..."
Jill stopped short. Julie Heatherwick, her office-mate, entered the
lab timidly.
"Jilly?" Julie asked quietly. "Are you mad?"
"As a wet cat. I should be heading that grant!" Jill demanded,
looking sad. "I number-crunched for two years on the side, preparing to
head this department when Phil retired. Why did they give it to you?"
Jill asked, half-knowing the answer.
"Look, I'm sick of you blaming my success on my looks. I am just as
committed to this department as you," Julie began. She pointed a finger
at Jill, making her skin-tight evening gown move slightly over her
supple figure. Her blonde hair fell down a bit into her face.
"I know I know, I'm sorry," Jill sighed. "It's just...I see them
staring at you when you saunter down the hall. I've heard the jokes
about your figure and how you could breast feed Europe. And now, it's
just easy to blame the whole thing on you."
Julie put her arm around Jill, squeezing her shoulder. Jill glanced
at Julie's plump face and she even noticed Julie's ample cleavage
protruding slightly from her evening dress. Julie sighed, making her
chest creep out just a bit more.
"I understand. What do you suggest I do?" Julie asked.
"Wear a snowsuit to meetings, you silicon queen," Jill's subconscious
piped up. "Nothing you can do, Jules. I just need some time to myself?"
she muttered.
"I hear ya, hon. I should get back to the party," Julie said, rising
to leave. As she opened the door to leave, she asked if Jill would be
joining them soon. The silence answered her.
Hours later, Jill continued to drown herself in her research. Hoping
desperately that it would block out the hurt, she continued to lose
herself in her electron microscope. Her latest batch of hormones had
given her the best results up to date, but they were nowhere near
successful. Who would buy a drug that would make you just %.05 percent
smarter? The numbers had to rise in order to make it viable.
Removing the slide, she stared at the greasy spot on the glass. Tears
almost formed in her eyes as she contemplated the fact that so much of her
life had been poured into a greasy spot, and she seemed light years from
the solution. Gritting her teeth, she pulled herself together and walked
to the specimen table. Just as she opened the cabinet, she noticed the
reflection of a light in the glass door. Someone had left the gamma
projector on.
Spinning on her heels, something she's not worn for years, she
meandered over to the machine to kill it. Then something sparked inside
her.
"Gamma rays?" Jill grinned, thinking of the Incredible Hulk TV
program she'd grown up hating. Her brother had tortured her by watching
that show each Sunday night, with her fighting to see PBS. Then she paused.
Why not? She'd tried everything else, hadn't she?
ZZZAP. It was over. She removed the slide. Slipped it under
the microscope. At first, nothing happened. Then, slowly, the brain
cells began to multiply. Neuron production shot off the scale. Jill
grinned slightly. This may be it. She waited three hours, then tested
the sample. It'd reproduced cell matter 400%. Another hybrid hormone
showed up on the test, but Jill barely looked at it. Her guess had worked!
Quickly she took a batch of the same substance and zapped in, turning
up the dosage to twice as much. A speedy test showed the whole batch was
performing as expected. Readying a needle with the batch, she approached
the lab rat, who just happened to be sleeping.
"Wait," Jill thought. "If I do this, and Julie and the others
notice it, who's to say I'll even get the credit for this, as I should.
It'll probably be put onto Julie's padded shoulders so she'll look good
for the cameras. Let's put the Stick in the corner until we need something
else done," Jill said, getting red faced. "What do I have to lose?"
Needles always made Jill queasy, but she forgot that point until
just after she stuck her arm and pushed the plunger.
* * *
"The floor needs cleaning, and a little salt," Jill murmured as
she raised from the floor. Spitting out the dust from her mouth, she
walked to the mirror. "Four hours?" Jill whispered as she looked at her
watch. The sun was peeking over the horizon outside the window. In the
mirror was a disheveled woman, looking as if she'd slept in a hamper.
"Oh my god!" Jill gasped. She checked her arm. Sure enough, there
was the puncture mark. She really had done it.
Finding a chair quickly, she began to go over what had transpired.
Coming to the conclusion that she'd suffered a mild breakdown, she now
hoped that she'd not damaged herself by her actions. After cleaning
herself up, she raced for the exit.
Upon leaving the building and entering the fresh morning air, she
ran into Brendon Hill. He was the typical early riser do-gooder with
about 6 hairs left and a pocket protector to boot. And on a Saturday
as well. She tried to avoid him, but he couldn't help but notice her
attire.
"Is the party still going on?" Brendon asked.
"Ummm...I fell asleep in my office," Jill explained. She wished that
was all that had happened.
"I heard about the promotion. I think you should have gotten it,"
Brendon continued. "Did you ever find the answer to your temperature
differential in the subject chamber?"
"No...well, maybe. What if we tried lowering the pressure inside
the transfer chamber, thus lowering the need to consistently drop the
temperature. The cells themselves might then undergo mitosis rapidly in
the..."Jill theorized, almost unaware of the hypothesis she was creating
on the stop. And to her amazement, what she was saying was making perfect
sense. A problem that had been plaguing the department for months was
literally falling from her lips, and she didn't even know much about the
situation. As she looked at Brendon, she noticed right away that his
attention was focusing elsewhere.
"...and I gather that if the value...Brendon? What's the matter?"
Jill asked puzzled.
"I...ummm...well. errr" Brendon stammered, turning beet red. "My
goodness, is that the tit...time?" He excused himself and stumbled off
into the building, looking back once at the stymied Jill.
"I wonder what that was all about?" Jill murmured. She began hurrying
to her car, but noticed something different in her walk. Looking down,
she almost passed out again.
"Holy Mary!" Jill exclaimed, feeling her chest. Her fingers touched
the fabric of her dress, only now, a C-cupped size bust was lurking
underneath it! She pulled away the neck of her dress. Sure enough,
there was a mass of real breast flesh filling her A-cup bra to overflowing.
"I have breasts!?!" Jill whispered, almost crying. Then it hit her.
That's not good. This was not supposed to happen overnight. She was 28.
Jill thought back to just minutes before. She'd looked in the mirror.
Washed her face. Brushed the lint from her dress. No, there'd not been
a bust there when she did that...or was there? She needed help.
She bolted back inside and caught Brendon before he entered his office.
He looked flustered still, but ushered her into his office regardless.
"What were you staring at, just then when we were talking?" Jill asked.
Brendon went candy red this time.
"I was noticing your dress. It seemed to have been...umm...moving in
your upper regions," Brendon stammered. She could almost feel the heat
from his embarrassment. He cracked under the pressure and spun around in
his chair to attend to a computational equation on the blackboard. Jill
stood quietly for a second, then started to pursue her investigation. As
she reached to turn Brendon around, her eye wandered to the blackboard.
Instantly, she smiled and grabbed and erasure, wiping away a large portion
of the equation.
"Hey Jill!" Brendon said, turning to look at her.
"You did this all wrong. Look, if you take the variance of mercury..."
Jill dictated, barely pausing between sentences. She spoke so fast and
wrote so quickly that she didn't even notice what was happening to her.
But Brendon did.
As he sat wide-eyed, staring at Jill's cotton evening dress, he noticed
that her breasts were beginning to grow again. The black fabric became
tighter and tighter as her bustline increased. Had he been able to move
his eyes from her ballooning boobs, Brendon would have seen that Jill's
hair was slowly beginning to become lighter colored. And the rest of her
body was changing too, becoming more soft and fleshy. As her arm moved
quickly up and down the chalkboard, he watched mesmerized as her stretching
dress outlined perfectly the imprint her super-small bra was making into
her bouncing bazooms. She was really blowing up!
"...and therefore if you substitute the zygote of the male...pay
attention here Brendon," Jill scolded, her arm still writing as fast as
it could. She turned her head to see Brendon's face lit like a child's
at Christmas. Following his eyeline, her gaze fell into her own
extending cleavage, now marking out a DD-cupped chest.
"My breasts! Look at my breasts!" Jill squeaked. She dropped her chalk
and it shattered on the wood floor. Her writing hand made palm marks on
her dress where she grasped the sides of her now larger bust. The growth
continued slightly, starting to cause little tears to appear in the seam
that ran down the front of the dress.
"I'm blowing up, Brendon. My boobs are actually getting bigger!!!"
"I know," Brendon drooled, his eyes beginning to glaze over.
The growth stopped, and Jill turned to look at herself in the
reflection of the walk-in freezer. She looked to have gained 30 lbs, not
counting her chest. And her hair?!?!
"I'm getting....blonde?" Jill noticed, then refocusing on the
outstanding part of this development. The pain from the unrelinquishing
bra was beginning to seep through her shock, but before she could attend
to relieving it, her eyes noticed Brendon's grinning face again.
"Why are you just sitting there? Quit staring at me. Can't you see
I need some help?" Jill pleaded.
Brendon surprised Jill by letting out a sound that could only be
diagnosed as a Beavis laugh. He then reached out a hand to squeeze one\
of her mammoth mammaries. Jill became livid.
"Look Cro-Magnon man. Just because a woman has large breasts does not
mean you get squeezing rights. Women in history, I quote, "Have been
oppressed by their captors, man, for countless..."Jill spouted.
Brendon grinned as Jill's boobs began to billow outward again, causing
the tears to widen longer. Soon, he could see the front of her bra, which
by now was merely a string around her inflating volleyballs. Jill seemed
to get even more adamant about convincing Brendon what he was doing was
wrong, causing her tits to swell more enormous.
POP! Jill's tits jiggled a bit as her bra broke, letting her chest
fill out her tortured dress even more. The rips were almost joining now.
With each breath Jill took, a little rip let Brendon know her breasts were
blowing up that much bigger. Her hair was now completely blonde, and her
figure had filled to that of Anna Nicole Smith, except for her basketball
sized jugs.
"...and if you can't take your eyes off my expanding chest...my..."Jill
slowed. "Holy Shit!"
Jill felt the front of her dress. Flesh from her enlarging boobs was
seeping out the tear holes, showing just how much her breasts were being
squeezed by her now far-too-small dress. She moaned as her hands brushed
across her hardening nipples, surprisingly the same size they'd always been.
Brendon's breathing became erratic and he leaped towards Jill, pulling
on the fabric of her dress. RRIIIPPPP! The dress thankfully unloaded it
payload. Jill shrieked at the sight of the nerdy little man staring
slobberingly at her titanic titties. She boob-butted him to the ground
and ran yelling from his office.
With her added weight, she found running to be quiet different. As
she hit her office, she couldn't help but notice how long it took her naked
chest to stop moving. They continued to bounce and sway, rubbing against
the torn fabric of the dress and each other. Her head swimming, she sat
down at her desk. This caused her to knock over half the items on her
desktop and she realized that her huge hooters were as real as they felt.
The air conditioned room was cold, making her nipples stand straight
out. She lay her head on the desk, trying to center her thoughts. Her
breasts had stopped growing, but the damage had been done. Her boobs were
huge! She'd have trouble sitting behind the wheel of her car to drive home
they were so big.
As she sat sobbing, she looked at her notes from the previous night.
This time, she didn't pass up the extra hormone part of the report. As
her brain centered on the calculations, she felt her boobs begin to tingle.
She concentrated on the paper, beginning to scribble notes, ignoring the
filling feeling that began again in her bosom. 30 seconds later, she
finished her analysis, and had grown an extra 10 inches to stop at what
she figured had to be a 60 inch bust.
"Cerebral stimulation resulting in hormonal imbalance," was underlined
at the bottom of the page. Jill had figured it out. Her body was changing
to represent what she resented most; blonde-haired, buxom bimbos. Meanwhile,
her brain was able to deduce the most complex of equations. And following
this theory, she might be able to reduce her chest size by not using her
intelligence for a period of time, but each time she resumed her higher
functions, she'd begin to balloon up again.
"Oh my...this means...," Jill realized, bringing her hands up to her
face. "No one's ever going to take me seriously. Each time I get into
a debate or a lecture, all the men are going to be watching me pop buttons
on my blouses as my breasts enlarge." She sat back in her chair, resting
her elbows in the soft pillows of flesh her breasts had formed. Her life
was going to get complicated, fast. She'd been ordered by the board to
give daily briefings at the corporate headquarters for the next two weeks.
How would she pull that off?
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