Dr. Hooters
by:
DrEnlarge@aol.com
© 1994


     Wham!
     The door slammed shut behind Jill Clayton, her willowy frame
slumpingdown in her chair.   In her plain black dress, she resembled Cher,
exceptwithout the pretty face and shapely figure.  "The Stick" was her
nicknamethroughout 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 hersupple 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 Saturdays 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's
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?