Karen Star aka Power Girl noticed... something.

Karen sat in her usual seat, the expensive office chair at the head of Starrware Industries' head office. Her assistant, a nervous young man named Simon, stood beside a large screen displaying a complex series of data streams. Her short, blonde hair was tied back in a severe bun, and her piercing blue eyes scanned the information with an intensity that could make lesser mortals wilt. Her posture was perfect, her back ramrod straight, her shoulders squared. Power Girl was a woman who commanded respect, and her very presence seemed to suck the air out of the room. Her custom white suit was immaculate, tailored to perfection, and did a remarkable job of containing her legendary figure. But today, even the reinforced fabric seemed to be struggling.

"Simon," she said, her voice a low, controlled alto. "Tell me the numbers from the third quarter projection. I want to hear them out loud."

"Of course, Ms. Starr," Simon stammered, fumbling with a tablet. "The Q3 projection shows a 7.4% increase in revenue...

His voice trailed off in her head, she'd rather be anywhere but here. The A.C. went off in the tower, she of course put someone onto it immedietly. But with that fiasco with the Justice League, it's causing a blockage on the road. Part of her wants to suit up, fly over there, grab the technicians by the scruff of their shirts and place them right in front of the machine, tools and all. It would only take her ten seconds tops. But no. Meetings, meetings. And oh, right. Meetings.

If her new assistant wasn't freshly eighteen, she'd unbutton just a couple of buttons on her business blouse. But no, she's been through four assistants already, all of them turned out to be perverted in one way or another. Is asking for a male assistant who isn't secretly getting off to her big boobs that hard to ask? She caught her last one secretly taking photos over her shoulder, he apparently was a huge fan of downblouse images. After snatching the phone and seeing his messages, he had a "Bossess Milk" folder, all pictures of her boobs, each one named the assumed % of milk inside them.

Idiot, they're all idiots. Boobs aren't just bags of milk, that's so idiotic, unless she's pregnant (which last time she checked, she DEFINITELY isn't), these things are 100% fat. She couldn't even produce milk if she tried. But of course, the average male doesn't use common sense. She'd go with a female assistant, but the last one she hired turned out to secretly be Harley Quinn disguised. Then Karen ended up losing her memory through some convoluted series of events and actually worked as Quinn's sidekick for some time. Her actual best friend, Atlee, tried to wake her up, and she didn't even recognize her, choosing Harley instead. It was humiliating, and she's just staying away from female assistants, knowing Quinn she'd tried again.

Okay, enough's enough.

"With a projected net profit of..."

"Get out."

Simon stopped, "U-Uh, what?"

"Simon." Karen's brow furrowed. "It's too hot for this. Get out. Now. Or you're fired."

"Right! Right, Ms. Starr." Simon scrambled out of the room like a mouse with a cat on its tail, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

The silence was a blessing. And the second the door closed, Karen RIPPED off her shirt; she could buy another one. Buttons flew across the room, she didn't care. She groaned aloud and leaned back in her chair, legs hitting the desk as she ripped apart her pants by merely flexing her thighs. She let her legs spread wide to air out her pussy, the action of dropping back in her seat caused and expected bounce in her bra as her boobs clapped up and down with gravity. They bounced, and bounced. And bounced. And. Bounced. And. Bounced. And bounced.. And.. bounced?

She sat up straight, causing another bounce. That wasn't right. They're not that heavy to have that much momentum. And why hasn't it stopped? She looked down. Her bra. It was like a trampoline, her boobs as huge and utterly unrivaled in size as they were, kept going. Up down, up down up.. down... they didn't stop bouncing.

Karen stood up from her seat, walked over to the full-body mirror, ignoring the way her boobs continued bouncing with each step. She stood profile to the mirror, eyeing herself, making not of the distinct P shape her upper body formed. Then, with her eyes on her huge chest, she jumped, a full body, yet casual, jump. They clapped against her chest with enough **** to make a *CLAPPING* sound, literally, hitting her in the face from the rebound. Her face was left with a steamy ooze, as her tits and cleavage were more than sweaty, now leaving that aura onto her face, lipstick and drool smeared on her tits as things got only weirder. After she landed, they bounced and jiggled nonstop for a full minute, like two over-inflated water balloons stuck to her chest.

Oh. My. God.

They will not stop bouncing. She remained perfectly still, and her boobs were still bouncing.

Then, there was a sound.

*Pooouuuuuuuure*

She looked around, instantly using X-Ray vision to scan the area. Someone was filling a glass up with water, or pooring a liquid into a cup. The pouring kept going, it didn't stop. Something was being filled, topped off with a liquid, and it was close. Very close, almost muffled by skin.

*Glug glug slosh glug glug*

She heard it, and she felt it. She felt the actual milk inside sloshing around. Her eyes went wide as she glanced down. Her boobs WERE STILL JIGGLING. This is wrong. She's not lactating, she's not pregnant. There is no way this can happen. She looked down at her hands and then to her reflection. She slowly removed her bra, watching wordlessly as that action caused the slowly dying down jiggles to spring back to life. *Slosh glug glug* She lifted both of her bare breasts as high as she could, then let go.

They dropped, hitting her torso like two giant water balloons. The impact was surprisingly soft, but the effect was catastrophic. A wave of liquid motion rippled through them, the jiggling starting anew with renewed vigor, accompanied by a loud, unmistakable *SLOSH* that echoed in the quiet office. But they didn't just bounce. They spread. They flattened slightly against her ribcage, the skin taut and glistening with sweat and something... else. She looked closer. A single, pearly white droplet welled up from her right nipple.

"What.. the..."

She instinctively brought her hand up to wipe it away, but as her fingers brushed against her own skin, another jolt of that strange warmth shot through her. This time it was stronger, more focused. Her nipples, already hard from the cool air and her own shock, puckered into tight, sensitive peaks. The droplet didn't fall. It clung there, shimmering under the office lights. She watched, mesmerized, as it slowly grew, swelling like a tiny, perfect pearl before its own weight finally pulled it free. It traced a slow, warm path down the curve of her breast, leaving a glistening trail in its wake.

"No, the heat is getting to me," She said to herself, stepping back, she shook her head and ripped off her panties. Now completely naked, she rocketed out the window like a blur of light. She had to cool down.

In seconds, she was flying as naked as she could be, over the Earth's exosphere, rocketing to Antarctica. Failing to notice the few droplets of milk that froze and floated into space. She was already feeling a bit better, but still her body was somehow glazed in a sheen of sweat. She needed to go faster. Faster. Faster.

Suddenly, she stopped.

Not a slow, gradual stop. She was blasting at full speed, then came to an instant halt as she realized something. She wanted a hotdog.

The only one she knew of off the top of her head was that hotdog stand outside the Daily Planet. That would make her feel better.

Before the next second could tick, she was gone. Nothing mattered more than getting a hotdog.