A Red Herring

When I woke the next morning, my head was fuzzy from the incense fumes we had inhaled all night. I grumbled, not wanting to get up.

I sat up and put my feet on the floor. Then I blinked as I nearly fell forward from unexpected weight on my chest.

What the hell?

Then my eyes widened and my hands leaped to my boobs. Heart pounding, I jumped up and dashed to the mirror.

Staring at my reflection, I let out a helpless squeak. This was impossible. Impossible! Unfortunately, the evidence in the mirror told me otherwise.

My boobs had swelled over three cup sizes during the night.

Huge bubbles jiggled under the long t-shirt I was wearing. Despite their overwhelming size, they were surprisingly firm. The slightest movement in any direction, however, created a wobbling that was almost impossible to prevent.

As I struggled to come to terms with the fact that my rack was over twice the size I had gone to sleep with, a startled gasp told me Alice was making the same discovery.

“Omigod!” she said. “Nicole! My boobs..!”

My heart was beating in my throat. “I know!” I said.

“What the hell are we going to do?” said Alice. “We have ridiculous bimbo tits! No one’s going to take us serious with these things!”

I tried to answer her, but my voice caught in my throat as I discovered another characteristic of my non-consensual boobs.