Allison looked a bit exasperated as she sat behind her desk. With Hana for company, Ally viewed a tri-dee recording in her office. The tri-dee projection dominated the center of the room. Life-sized holograms played out an interview that Ally had done at a local broadcast station.
     "I honestly don't know what the fuss is about," said Hana, the director of marketing and advertising for the Omaha branch of Blossoming Bodies. "The camera loves you. Your face is so photogenic."
     "You mean the studio director loves my chest," Ally countered. "Look at that! Half the time the camera was focused on my bosom." She stopped the playback at a particular scene. The cameraman had focused on Ally's chest for a good number of seconds. "What were they hoping for? A blouse button to fly off?"
     "Well, you did wear an old-fashion blouse." Hana giggled. "Goodness knows why they didn't ask for your measurements."
     Ally frowned. "If I gave my measurements, then they would've asked to verify them."
     "I should've thought of that!" Hana clapped her hands. "You could've gotten yourself measured while on the air. That would've been the perfect opportunity to show off one of Jorie's bras. The publicity would've been great."
     "Hana, if it's such a good idea," Ally said with a twinkle in her eye, "why don't you make a commercial with yourself as the star? Your own demographic data have shown that women with your proportions receive the highest favorable reactions from potential customers."
     Smiling, the dark-skinned woman looked down at her 36E chest. "Yes. Especially if I worn my belly-dancing outfit. That alone would inspire women to get nanites to flatten their tummies and fill out their breasts."
     "Speaking of filling out, let's finish watching this interview. I didn't notice the reaction of the interviewer when I showed her the BE hologram model."
     "Perhaps you should bring a male hologram model for your next interview. I guarantee that inquires from feisty young women will clog our comm lines for weeks."
     "Hana..."
     The exotic woman held up her hands. "Peace, peace. I was making a joke."

It was a late April morning that found Gwyneth Dornheim tending to her flowerbed. It was one of the few daily chores she actually enjoyed doing. With a tender touch, Gwyneth saw to it that her flowers bloomed and thrived. She had eagerly engaged in her hobby from the start of spring to the last days of fall for the last 80 years. Felix had his miniatures collection to keep him busy, and he only had a modest green thumb when it came to flowers. The flower beds in the front yard were Gwyneth's domain.
     Gwyneth found her garden work to be the perfect venue for her daily meditations. For the last three weeks, her thoughts had dwelled on her neighbors. She had watched Allison and Thaddeus leave for work and return home each day, and Gwyneth was sure that the young couple was putting on an act for her benefit. Surely, underneath the couple's sweet exterior lurked two rabid, breast-obsessed maniacs!
     Last week, to Gwyneth's displeasure, the Eddings had held a party. It appeared that the young couple had invited their co-workers to celebrate an achieved goal of some sort. One of the couples was Angelican. Up to that time, the only place Gwyneth had seen an Angelican woman was on tri-dee, but the view from her bay window had been as close Gwyneth wanted to get. She had felt that if she were any closer to the over-endowed woman, some of that excessive buxomness would be transferred to herself.
     It bothered Gwyneth to no end as she recalled watching the Angelican woman enter the Eddings' house. How could such a top-heavy woman walk with such ease? Of course, it was the Angelican woman's nanite-built breasts and gravitic bra that allowed her to walk at all! Like most Terran women, Gwyneth felt it was high time for Angelican culture to 'advance', leaving watermelon busts to vain and immature women. Really, such bosoms could only serve to flame the lust of men and...
     Gwyneth halted her mental diatribe as she saw a groundsquirrel skitter across the yard in front of her. The sight of a cute little animal made the woman forget about oversized breasts for a moment. Over the years, the groundsquirrels in the neighborhood had regarded the Dornheims' front yard as a friendly feeding zone. However, on this particular morning, Gwyneth and the groundsquirrels were in for a rude, violent surprise.
     At first, Gwyneth thought it was another groundsquirrel behind the hedge that separated the front yard from the sidewalk, but it seemed too large to be a groundsquirrel. Whatever the animal was, it appeared to stop. The intervening branches hindered Gwyneth's attempts to identify it. The animal crouched low to the ground, as if it was observing her as well. After a moment it moved into the clear.
     Gwyneth smiled, for she recognized the animal now. It was a miniature dachshund. The little critter had short, glossy, russet-colored fur and the most adorable eyes. Just as she was about to coax the collared dog towards her, Gwyneth noticed that it went into a fixed pose, as if it was looking at something. . .
     The dachsie tensed up, acting like a spring about to be released. Confused, Gwyneth looked at where the dog fixed its gaze. It was the groundsquirrel. Oblivious to the dog's presence, the groundsquirrel continued to search the grass around it. It was then that Gwyneth realized what the dog was about to do.
     Before she could say anything, Gwyneth watched in horror as the dachsie sprang into action. A snarl fit for a predator took over the dog's face. Fangs were exposed, the ivory glistening in the morning light. The target of the dog's aggression was unaware that it was about to be deprived of its life. With a gasp, Gwyneth continued watching as the dog raced up to the little critter, snatching it up in its jaws. After the groundsquirrel had been shaken for a few seconds Gwyneth knew it was dead. The dachsie dropped the lifeless animal to the ground, prodding it with its nose and forepaw. It was the first time in Gwyneth's life that she had ever seen an animal kill another. Growing up in an ordered and regulated world left her ill-prepared for the true realities of life.
     Gwyneth's shock was broken when she heard her neighbor call out. It was Allison Eddings, standing on the front porch of her house. Next to her was Thaddeus, her tall husband. "Rex! Where are you?" called Allison, her bosom highlighted by the snugness of her blouse. "Come on home, Rex!"
     Obediently, Rex picked up his kill and scooted through the hedges. Gwyneth stood up to watch as the dog trodded up to Allison. Acting the very model of a game-hunting dog, Rex sat on his haunches and placed the dead groundsquirrel at Allison's feet.
     "What have you done, Rex?" Allison cried, picking up her pet dog and holding him to her full bosom. "This isn't Outback. And groundsquirrels aren't grass mice. You can't go around killing all the little rodents you see. Understand?"
     Thaddeus picked up the dead little animal by the tail. "I'll going to bury this behind the toolshed. A fence for the yard will be necessary if we don't want Rex going on a killing spree."
     Allison noticed that her next-door neighbor was out in her yard. "Good morning, Mrs Dornheim!" She waved her hand in friendly greeting.
     "Good morning, Mrs Eddings," replied Gwyneth. "Is that your pet dog?"
     "Yes. His name is Rex. He's been in quarantine for the last three weeks. The health officials wanted to be sure that Rex wasn't carrying any bugs. He had to eat food that purged his system."
     "I see." Gwyneth noted that had Allison worn a halter top, she could've easily carry the little dog in her cleavage. Allison was certainly big enough to pull off that stunt. "I take it Rex is a proficient hunter?"
     "Oh yes. On Outback, Rex hunted grass mice whenever we allowed him. On one day he bagged forty of those critters."
     "Forty?" Gwyneth said in disbelief. To confirm what his mistress said, Rex made an authoritative bark. That's just great, she thought. First it's an over-buxom outer-Aussie who's a sneeze short of exploding out of her blouse. Now there's a voracious killer of groundsquirrels running around disguised as a cute little dog. What's going to happen next?
     A white van pulled up into the Eddings' driveway. Gwyneth looked at the image that was emblazoned on the van's side. It was an artistic outline of an obviously well-endowed woman. Below the image were the words Blossoming Bodies written in green lettering.
     It's worse, Gwyneth lamented. Allison is the breast-dispensing witch, and that van is her broomstick. The sad thing is that Halloween is six months away.