"At least I'm not hungry like yesterday," Pauline told herself. "Cereal should do just fine." It took a few moments for Pauline to find her balance when she stood. Unconsciously cradling her newfound bust like precious treasure, the red-haired woman took a brisk shower in the bathroom. It annoyed her that she spent an inordinate amount of time drying off her new breasts. She knew she would've been done quicker had her chest not been so darn big. "What a hassle for cantaloupes," Pauline sighed as she returned to the bedroom to dress. "I just wonder why Angelican women bother being enormous to begin with. Don't they miss being able to see their feet?"

        Still able to see her own dainty feet past her notable ladybumps, Pauline then searched for a skirt and blouse. Later that morning she had an appointment to see her doctor. She hadn't told him the complete truth behind the visit, except that she had experienced 'chest pains' all day on Friday. Actually, it was back pain; her upper torso, especially her back, still needed time to adjust to her added breast mass. More importantly, Pauline's wardrobe faced a serious challenge.

        "Dammit!" Pauline hurled another inadequate blouse across the room. "My blouses are doing too good a job of highlighting these things!" She glommed a naked breast for emphasis. "I can't walk in public with these boobs standing out like headlights." Impatient, the redhead searched her husband's wardrobe for a shirt. Finding one, she donned it in a snap. In another unconscious move, she twist-tied the bottom into a knot, exposing a fair portion of her exercise-maintained flat stomach. A pair of black slacks joined the oversized shirt, which in turn was complemented by a red ascot. "Now that's better," she said to her reflection in the bedroom mirror. "People can't tell how big I am unless I want them to know." Pulling at her shirt to keep it puffy, Pauline then headed to the kitchen for breakfast. This time, the sausage patties remained untouched.

Dr Hauser wore an incredulous look when Pauline told her story. From the urgency of Pauline's message, the doctor thought she'd had a mild heart attack. All that changed when the doctor had a good look at his patient. He listened with interest as Pauline recited Friday's events, mentally debating whether the redhead's new breasts were the result of nanites or a psychosomatic response to a deep-seated anxiety about her former flat chest. There was one way to find out. "Pauline, I can scan your breast mass for nanites if you so desire."

        "Of course I want a scan." Pauline crossed her arms over her exposed midriff. This action caused the shirt to highlight her new mounds. "These things aren't a product of my imagination."

        "If they are, then your imagination is very active indeed." Hauser's attempt at humor failed to impress Pauline. Clearly, she wanted definite answers. "Let me get my medscanner," he said in a reconciling tone. Hauser went to a supply cabinet and retrieved a scanner. Turning, he found that Pauline had removed her shirt. From where he stood, Hauser could clearly see that the little woman had a good set of bumpers on her chest. "Pauline, it wasn't necessary for you to remove your shirt. The scan is non- invasive."

        "Oh. Excuse me." Flushed with embarrassment, Pauline crossed her arms over her breasts. She wondered what made her do such an unconscious act. Was it the rebelliousness of youth making a comeback now that she was ample? Could a trait of exhibitionism be asserting itself, first with the twist-tied shirt and then with the gratuitous naked chest? This was the sort of behavior she expected from her daughter Corie.

        Hauser operated the scanner, keeping his eyes focused on the built-in screen. "Well, here's some positive news. You have nanites in your breasts."

        "What do you mean by positive?" Pauline's mind went into overdrive, imagining that her breasts were utterly filled with microscopic machines.

        "The nanites have an ID tag. Let's see . . . Ah." Hauser's smile was that of a person who'd discovered a friend's naughty secret. "Looks like someone's been to a Blossoming Bodies store."

        "What? I have never been in one of those bargain boob-stores! Are you sure of your findings?"

        Hauser stepped over so Pauline could look at the screen. "See? There's the date of manufacture and the store ID number. It's the one here in Omaha."

        "Those nanites aren't mine," said the resentful redhead.

        "I can't get any further information from the nanites. You'll need to see the nanite specialist at the Blossoming Bodies store to get the remaining information about them."

        "I better get some answers," Pauline snorted as she tugged the shirt back on.

        "Let me give the store a call. I'm sure the specialist will make an appointment to see you today."

Having heard nothing but bad press about nanites and nanite clinics, Pauline was expecting Dr Sonser to be the proverbial dirty old man. Well, the little redhead was taken aback by the doctor's appearance and obvious femininity. Dr Lyssa Sonser was just a hand-span short of two meters in height. Light blond hair cascaded down to her shoulder blades. Her bosom was even larger than Pauline's. The form-fitting bodysuit the doctor wore under her doctor's coat added emphasis to her obvious buxomness. However, Sonser's fabric-testing flesh melons made Pauline find her voice.

        "Let me understand this," said the redhead. "My daughter Corie came here for a nanite augmentation treatment. Why wasn't I called? Isn't there a parental notification law for this sort of thing?"

        "There is, Mrs Tagerson," Sonser said patiently. "Your daughter, however, is at the age of consent. No notification was required."

        "Then the age should be raised." Pauline cupped her shirt-clad glories. "Care to tell me how her nanites ended up in my body?"

        "Mrs Tagerson, the only way the nanites could've made it into your body was by use of a hypospray. Was there a time on Thursday where you used one?"

        Pauline recalled what she could about that particular day. "Well, I did have a headache that day. I went to my daughter's bathroom and used an aspirin hypo . . . " She snapped her fingers. "That might be it."

        Sonser handed Pauline a hypo. "Did the hypospray you used look like this one?"

        With a file pad in hand, Sonser accessed her medical database. "She was set for a 102-centimeter bust. The nanites should've been set to work only for her, but..."

        "But what, doctor?"

        "Your daughter was our very first customer. I wrongly assumed that she would use the nanites the day she bought them. Instead of being person-specific, the nanites were configured to modify the breasts of any woman they were injected into."

        "Oh, that's just great, doctor," Pauline sneered. "I guess you can count yourself fortunate that a 10-year-old girl didn't get an accidental injection. What do you propose to do in my case?"

        Sonser remained calm. She was concerned about what her boss Allison would do when informed about this incident. What Pauline Tagerson planned on doing was another concern as well. "As the head nanite specialist of this Blossoming Bodies store, I can give you an injection of reduction nanites at no charge."

        "I think not, doctor. I've just been handed an opportunity to get this place closed down. These nanite clinics are an abomination on this world. All you are doing is promoting lewdness and immaturity to people who should know better." Standing abruptly, Pauline didn't care that her bust fought the good fight against her shirt. "I'll have a word with your manager on Monday, and my lawyer will be present. Don't bother showing me the way out. I can find my own way." Indeed, Pauline was in such a hurry that she ran into the office door, her bust acting like a shock absorber. Waving off Sonser's sincere offer of help, Pauline marched out of the building.

        With a heavy sigh, Sonser sat at her desk and wrote a report. Feeling the weight of lead in her chest, she then made a call to Allison.

        "Hi, Lyssa," said Allison on the other end of the comm link. "What's the scoop?"

        "Mrs Eddings, I'm afraid I have some news that'll put a damper on your weekend as well as mine."