Author's Notes: This story is inspired by a scene from the movie
"Repossessed", starring Leslie Nielsen and Linda Blair. If you have seen
the movie, and if you hang out here at ACOTTO's, you probably know the
scene I'm talking about. 

All names in this story are intended to be purely fictional. Any relation
or similarity to actual people or corporations is purely coincidental. 

This story is not meant for little children. If you think you could get
into trouble by reading this wherever and whenever you are, do yourself a
favor, and wait until you are someplace safe. 

Filename: PUMPITUP.TXT

* * * * * * * * * *

Pump It Up

by The Space-Age Pimp Daddy


At one of the many laboratories of PerforMax Sports Drinks, chemists were
working on their newest flavor of sports drink, Tropical Passion. One of
the many upstart sports drink products to have burst onto the scene,
PerforMax hoped to be serious competition for Gatorade and All-Sport. I
wished them the best of luck, but I was going to have a little fun with
them first... 

Let me take a time out to explain who I am. Not so long ago- by my
standards, at least- some humans called me Loki, the god of mischief.
Other peoples have called me by other names as well, but I won't concern
myself with them right now. If you want to know, go talk to them yourself;
the nearest one is only about 120 light years away from you. Nowadays I'm
known by some humans by a more provocative name. It probably comes from
that fact that a lot of my work is related in some way to sex. I am always
and forever exactly what I am, yet nothing like what I seem to be. I am
The Space-Age Pimp Daddy. 

In the invisible, non-material form I usually use to visit other worlds, I
walked into a health club in the Los Angeles metropolitan area. I looked
around and found what I was looking for: the PerforMax vending machine,
with their new flavor, Tropical Passion! Ha, ha, ha, I thought, PerforMax
is going to get a rather unusual complaint about their new product! I
guess you could say I "enchanted" the next can of Tropical Passion that
would drop from the machine, as I altered it to produce what I considered
an amusing side effect, to be triggered by a not uncommon action in the
gym. All I could do after that was wait. And watch. 

Maggie Hardwick was somewhere in the health club, doing her usual
workouts.  Maggie, a light-haired brunette in her early twenties, wanted
to be a model.  She knew that she needed a great figure, and therefore she
worked out daily to improve her muscle tone. Her work had paid off, since
she sported firm, wonderfully sculpted legs and buttocks. One place where
she was clearly at a disadvantage was her chest. While most of the models
she had seen didn't have a lot up top, they still had something, which was
more than what Maggie thought she could say for herself. She was convinced
that her 32AA-22-32 figure was hindering her progress. "Not much I can do
there until I get the money to buy some implants," she figured. Hope
springs eternal, however, and Maggie kept working out, hoping someday her
luck would change. 

Thirty minutes on the StairMaster gave Maggie quite a thirst. Before she
began her chest exercises, she wanted to grab something to drink. She had
drunk some of PerforMax's drinks before, and she had liked what she had
tasted. She made her way over to the machine, three quarters in hand.
"Let's see. What am I in the mood for?" she wondered as her eyes scanned
downward over the available flavors. "Tropical Passion? That's new." She
punched the appropriate button, and the can thunked out into the
receptacle. She popped open the can, chugged it, and tossed the dead
trooper in the nearest garbage can. She felt refreshed and cool all over,
and adjusted her leotard before moving on to her next exercise, the bent
arm fly. 

As she sat down in the PecDeck, she felt quite a sensation pass through
her nipples. Looking down, she saw them poking out, fully erect, from her
leotard. The effect was exaggerated since she had chosen not to wear a bra
under her spandex leotard today. Not that she ever wore one when she
exercised, anyway. "Why be uncomfortable when I exercise?" she thought,
"It's not like I have anything to hold up or to keep in place anyway."
Maggie felt a little self-conscious with her nipples making themselves
known to the world, but she figured they'd go limp as soon as she started
the flies.  Maggie didn't find exercising particularly arousing. 

She started her flies. She pushed her hands together, fighting the
resistance, then let them spread apart. She did this three more times.
When she spread out for the fifth time, however, she saw her chest expand
slightly more than it had the previous reps. Her nipples were still erect.
"Odd," she thought, but she continued her reps. 

And she continued to grow. 

By her eighth rep, there was no doubt. The flies were causing her breasts
to grow! Aroused by the sensations pouring through her now B-cup breasts,
she also became excited at the prospect of what even more reps would
bring. 

Maggie wasn't the only one to notice her growth. Several of the men in the
gym, who enjoyed watching the attractive Maggie in any event, stopped
their exercises to marvel at this incredible woman, who seemed to be
having phenomenal success at developing her pecs. The men, too, were
excited and eager to see what more reps would do for, or to, Maggie. 

At the tenth out of fifteen planned reps, Maggie saw she had quite a set
of hooters. "D-cup," thoguht Maggie, "but my God! Why is this happening??"
When she spread her arms back, a detectable groan emerged from the men in
the gym, watching Maggie's bright yellow leotard strain against its fleshy
cargo. Her nipples had swollen to about one inch in length, protruding
obscenely from her clothing. 

Maggie found all this growing extremely erotic. A pleasurable smile
emerged onto her face, and the crotch of her outfit began to darken with
moisture.  "Don't let it stop!" she silently begged of any higher power
that may have heard. Don't worry, I did. At the same time, however, her
subconscious began to worry. "How big will I grow? Will I burst my
leotard? Will I explode??" 

On the eleventh rep her bust grew even more. A barely audible stretching
sound could be heard as the leotard fought against increasing strain. The
stitches holding the front and back of the garment together stretched
noticably. With nowhere else to go, her breasts tried to creep upwards and
out through the neckline of the leotard. 

All male eyes, and many female ones, were now on Maggie's heart-stopping
expanse of cleavage by the twelfth rep. If anybody had tried to measure
her bust, the tape would have read 44 inches. Maggie looked like she had
two honeydew melons- with nipples- in her leotard. Her breathing quickened
and tiny droplets of sweat broke out on her forehead. Her pussy was now
soaked, driving many men to the verge of madness as they tried to decide
whether to watch her expanding chest or the pubic hair faintly visible
through the soaked material at her crotch. A few of the guys made a
bee-line to the locker room, with the intent of manually relieving some
pressure of their own down front. 

On the thirteenth rep, the leotard started to rip at the sides. Delightful
bits of Maggie, with no more room in the front, tried to make their way
toward these splits at the sides. "Don't stop!!!" screamed Maggie's
pleasure center in the quiet of her mind; "But we're going to explode!"
countered her subconscious, "We have to stop!" "Oh, go fuck yourself!"
yelled the pleasure center, as it orgasmically banished all rational
thought from Maggie's brain until further notice. Maggie moaned as her
arms spread back, as did many of the guys. 

Fourteen was the magic number. As Maggie went back, the sensations from
her volley-ball sized tits got the better of her, and she let out a wail
of pleasure. Simultaneously, the front of her leotard split wide open, and
two enormous mounds of flesh flowed out. With her arms spread back in the
machine, she stared in silence at the two twelve-inch globes which hung
from the front of her chest. Still breathing heavily from her orgasm of
ten seconds ago, Maggie finally came to her senses and quickly covered
herself with her arms, letting out a small scream of panic and amazement
at what had just happened to her. She got up off the machine while
unsuccessfully trying to cover herself, and sprinted for the women's
locker room. The men in the gym simply stood there in awe, and as Maggie
ran to the locker room, they let out a terrific round of applause. 

Maggie never filed the complaint against PerforMax; she never realized
that their product- albeit just that one can- was directly responsible for
two "unexpected developments" in her life. Her career also took off after
her sudden growth spurt, but not necessarily as a model. Maybe you've seen
her in a strip-club or in a porno flick under the pseudonym of "Maggie
Mountains"  She still exercises as well, although the PecDeck has never
seemed quite the same to her since! 

THE END