A Few Days Later, When Sue's Bra Doesn't Fit

Puberty had neither been generous nor unfair to Sue Storm. She still remembered the anxiety at watching the early developers show off, the awkwardness when her breasts had finally come in; having to go to the store for a fitting herself, because her mother by that point had passed. Womanhood had found Sue Storm with a modest but perfectly serviceable 32B bra, though she sometimes wore a 32C during the parts of her cycle when she was bloated. Pregnancy had seen her go up to 32D, and after that her breasts had returned to normal, with a touch of sag to them—not that Reed Richards minded in the least.

Still, it had been exciting for Sue as her youthful transformation slowly undid the work of years. Her breasts were firmer, rose higher, the slight stretch marks from the pregnancies vanished, and even the nipples, darkened by two pregnancies, began to return to that youthful pink color.

Then the second puberty hit. Like a truck.

The Invisible Woman awoke and her tits ached.

She stumbled out of bed and parts of her immediately began to sway. She looked down at her chest and realized how much more of her there was. Far, far too much, and far too fast for this to be the result of another pregnancy. At least she hoped.

Reed was passed out next to her. His super-schlong lay across his stomach like a serpent basking on a rock, utterly comatose. She gave him a nudge. Then another, harder nudge. When he fell off the bed, the smartest man in the world finally woke up, looked around, and stopped.

"Incredible," he muttered, as his eyes fixed on Sue's chest.

"What's happening?" Sue said. Biologically, she looked 19 years old again. Slim, fit, with none of the marks of a lifetime of adventuring and motherhood. The slimness made her engorged breasts look even bigger on her slim frame. Sue could tell without even trying them on that she was too big even for her maternity bras.

"Macromastia," Reed Richards said. "Fascinating. The effects of Superia's weapon must have caused a hormonal imbalance..."

"Can you fix it?" Sue said. "My shoulders are starting to hurt."

Reed Richards gave her a look that, in any other man, would be akin to "I would rather cut off parts of myself than disfigure the work of the divine creator who shaped this bit of female flesh." Yet what he said at last was:

"There may be surgical options, but I think it best to run a few tests first. Not rush into anything."

His prick was, Sue noticed, now both erect and above the level of the bed, despite the fact that he was still sitting on the floor.