After The Fact

by Doug Kulp

 

 

"So how do I look?"

 

Sandra turned to examine herself in the elevator mirror as it started up, making sure that her jacket was on strait, and that her hair bun was neatly done.

 

"You look damn good," Dr. John Staple said.  His voice inflection made it abundantly clear that he was refuting to her appearance in a sexual manner.  And from him, that was alarming indeed.

 

John was about the same age as her, but stood a towering seven foot tall, with bawd shoulders that made him look like a brick wall on powerful legs.  On first sight, she found him to be very intimidating, especially when compared to her own rather puny five foot one, frame.  But you wouldn’t have to get to know him for very long to learn that John was quite passive, almost shy.  He was slowly coming out of his shell, to be sure, but some times his timing truly sucked.

 

John had no more spoken, before he was given a quick poke by Dr. Beachmen.  Beachmen was about sixty years of age, and his manner always reflected years of accumulated wisdom and experience.  A man who’s humility never permitted him to recognize the geniuses that he commanded, or the respect that he has earned from his many subordinates.

 

"You look very conservative," Beachmen said, "You really do worry too much Dr. Leavers.  Your appearance is hardly that important for the Board of Directors.”

 

“I beg to differ with you, Doctor,” Sandra said as she turned back to the mirror to double check her make up.  With an expert hand, she produced a compact from her purse, and proceeded to touch up her face.  “You are not a woman.  My appearance is every thing.  You have no idea how much effort I have to put in to make myself presentable.  Or appreciate the dangers of sending ‘the wrong message’ to the wrong pair of eyes.”

 

“My dear, you are not the only one here who has to worry about there appearance,” Beachmen said, “I find your attitude to be quite sexist.”

 

She snapped her compact closed, and shot a glare back at Beachmen.

 

“Do you.  Tell me, what first pops into your mind when you look at my body?” Sandra said as she turned away from the mirror, and presented herself to her mentor.

 

Beachmen was by no means perfect.  One of his flaws was he tended to speak his mind when he should shut up.  Still, she had to give him marks for self discipline.  But even so, Beachmen’s eyes couldn’t help but focus dead on her tits, as if her challenge was permission to stair.  Of course, she couldn’t blame him, and had no intention of holding this over him.  Her only intention was to make a point.  Now it was time to drive it home.

 

“Your first thought just happens to be my tits, doesn’t it,” Sandra said.

 

“I would like to think of myself wise enough not to judge of person by their appearance,” Beachmen said.

 

“Unfortunately, the CEO’s that make up the Board of Directors do not.  Any woman, who has tits as huge as these, will be automatically labeled as a slut or an easy mark.  It’s a man’s world, and I have to deal with the rules laid down by men.  Simply setting a good impression is not enough for a woman such as me; I have to set the right impression.”

 

Beachmen frowned.  His mouth then twisted as if he was trying to chew his gums.  “Your point is well taken,” he said.

 

“Thank you,” she said as she turned her attention back towards the mirror, “This is the first time I have ever been called in front of the board of directors.  Why do I have to do this?  I would rather be down in the lab working, cleaning up.”

 

“They specifically asked for you, actually,” John said.

 

“Why?” Sandra said.

 

John blushed some what, than hung his head as if that would make him any less imposing.  “The sponsors insisted, actually.  They are trying to fend off an attempt to shut down the program.  The effort is spearheaded by one Signore Vice-executive George Presario, who has been using the accident as a reason to shut down the project.  And I am told he has a weakness for… for large busted women.”

 

“Oh really!” Sandra said, “Is that so?”

 

“Doctor,” Beachmen said, “Do not forget you have other qualities as well.  Even if you were a man, you would still be the best person for the job of presenting our case to the board.  You are articulate, you speak with careful deliberation, and there are few in the lab that is as well versed in the particulars of this project than you are.  Our backers know this.  They know that you are a formidable opponent in your own right, and a woman who has earned her degree in dimensional physics.”

 

“You were also one of the three girls who were injured in the explosion,” John added, “This gives you a unique perspective, and a moral authority to judge what is ‘appropriate sacrifice,’ in Presario’s own words.”

 

“Doctor Leavers,” Beachmen said, “Sandra, this coming vote could kill the whole project.  After which the entire team will be diverted to other functions.  I am well aware about your negative opinion about men in general, but you have to put that aside for now, and focus your efforts on the project.  I trust you are of enough moral courage to do that.”

 

With that, the elevator began to slow its assent, and then finally coming to a stop.  The bell chimed, and the doors parted.

 

Sandra reflected for a moment on what Beachmen said, and reconsidered what was at stake, she then nodded.

 

“Good,” Beachmen said.

 

With that, she and John stepped off the elevator.  But Beachmen stays behind.

 

“You’re not coming?” Sandra said.

 

“I have work to do.  Besides, the role of moral support is best left to you young and single,” Beachmen said as he looked over at John, just before the elevator doors closed.

 

Sandra then looked up at John, who was now quite notably blushing.

 

“An odd way for him to describe you John, don’t you think?” Sandra said, “Is there something you want to say to me?”

 

John opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.  He fished around for a few moments to find the right words, but in vain.  He then instead fished around in the huge pockets of his lab coat, and pulled out a card and handed it to her.  It was a greeting card with a picture of flowers and chocolates on the face.  And inside, written in very neat cursive calligraphy was “I would like to take you out for dinner and a movie.”

 

“I’m sorry, I just can’t seem to work up the courage to ask you myself,” John said, “So I improvised.”

 

Sandra couldn’t help but smile at his gesture.  “That’s sweet.”

 

“Uh, we probably should get going,” John said, “The meeting is already starting.”

 

The corridor led to a reception room, where there were several Ushers waiting for her.  But they were insistent that only Sandra could proceed into the meeting room.  Once inside, she was at once overwhelmed by the wealthy decor.  The walls were paneled in rich walnut that looked as exactly like real wood.  Each panel set into place with gold trim.  Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, suspended just over a huge, polished, walnut table.  At the table sat about fifty aging men in finely tailored silk suites. 

 

Sandra was directed to the outer wall where there were luxury chairs set for observers, or in her case, people waiting to be called on to speak.  But as she was lead to her seat, it was apparent that the debate, or more accurately, the argument, had already started.

 

"I have said from the start," one balding CEO ranted, "this project was a bad idea when it was conceived and being executed by incompetent engineers and middle management has certainly not help things along.  The explosion on the main laboratory is proof of this folly.  What else do you need to see this; do you need the whole building to fall in on your heads?”

 

“Mr. Presario,” some one else said, “I truly wish you would refrain from such melodramatics.  The explosion in the lab resulted with minimal destruction, and no one was injured as a result.”

 

“Three women were taken to the hospital,” Presario said.

 

“For observation, at the insistence of the director I might add, and not because of any medical necessity.  Really Mr. Presario, you make it sound as if we have mad scientist working down in the basement, cooking up giant locust or an army of fifty foot Amazons.  All precautions are being taken.”

 

“But we don't even know enough about this new technology to know exactly what safety precautions need to be taken.  We are arrogant men, playing god, and tempting fate,” Presario said, “How do we know that their will not be another ‘accident,’ one with far more serious ramifications?  Our competitors test their new technology outside the city, in the desert, while we place at risk millions of lives.  And for what, so we can learn that there is nothing out there in outer space?”

 

It was explained to Sandra by the Ushers that she didn’t have the right to speak until she was called upon.  Even so, this Presario was proving to be the loudmouth every one said he would be.  Sandra had no intention on letting him off the hook.  So she fished around in her purse and pulled out a pen and a small note book, and started to jot down some observations that she was making of Presario’s argument.

 

“Mr. Presario,” another CEO said, apparently wanting to take a whack at the blowhard, “you keep droning on and on about the risks.  Let us, for the sake of argument, pretend that the risks are as grave as you say they are.  But when you annualize the risk, you must also take into account the benefits as well.”

 

“Here here,” several of the other CEO’s said.

 

“This project is developing technologies that will got onto the worlds first interstellar warp drive.  By expanding and compressing the fabric of space and time, displacements that exceed the speed of light become possible.  And if the physicists down in the basement of this building are correct, we can have a functioning star drive within ten years.  Reaching orbit, currently costing millions of dollars, can be done for a few hundred dollars, with no more complexity than starting a car.  And we would have built this technology, just think of what the patens alone would be worth, let alone having the opportunity to build the foundations of a new industry.  Is that not worth a little risk?”

 

“I might be inclined to agree with you,” Presario said, "If that risk only represented a fiscal one.  But with incompetence researchers such as this one, certain disaster is sure to follow."

 

Sandra suddenly looked up and realized that Presario was pointing directly at her.  "Hay!" she protested.

 

"Mr. Chairmen, would you please remind the observers that they are to be silent unless call upon to speak!" Presario said.  As if to back him up, the Ushers had already stepped forward, threatening to bodily remove her.

 

But Presario's dirty trick did not go unnoticed by the rest of the room as half of the CEOs erupted in bickering pandemonium.  So much so that the Chairman had to gavel the room back into order.

 

But this sudden attack on her presence however, did little to ease her mood.  In fact, she was starting to truly despise this man.  She knew his kind all right, the sort of man that wasn't even capable of giving any woman any credit.  She was becoming so angry, that she could feel her face go flush.  But she choked on her words, least she be taken away, and be prevented an opportunity to speak.  She wasn't about to give him that satisfaction.  She then focused on her notes all the more.

 

"Even if this vote shuts this operation down, our risks will continue.  It's bad enough this project suffers from incompetence, but what would you say if I told you that I have seen evidence suggesting sabotage," Presario announced.

 

This got the attention of the room.  Even Sandra glared up at him, wondering if there was something to this accusation.  It would explain a lot.

 

"And, I remind this board that one of the three women who was involved in the explosion, skipped town, and no one had heard from her since she was discharged from the hospital.  Was she afraid that she might be found out?” Presario continued, “Perhaps it is not incompetence we are dealing with, but nefarious intentions.”

 

Sandra’s mood was not calming down.  She was no so flushed that she had to stop taking notes taking in order to fan her self with her note book.  In fact, she was warm enough that she began to wonder if it wasn’t the room that was getting warmer.  But when she looked around, she didn't see any one else looking uncomfortable.

 

She leaned back in her chair to sigh from the heat, but experience another sensation she wasn't expecting; the sensation that her nipples were starting to press into her bra.

 

Sandra's nipples could be real headache at times.  They were unusually large, and had a habit of being difficult to hide.  So much so that she usually wore a pair of nipple cups.  Basically, they were shaped cotton pads that had holes in them to make room for her nipples.  It had the unfortunate effect of making her look even larger than she really was.  It was also the reason she war a heavy jacket, because there plenty of garment lines that needed to be concealed.

 

But with a properly fitting bra and her nipple cups in, she hardly ever noticed them.  Her nipple cups offered half an inch of space, so even when she was in an aroused stat, there was more than enough room.  So this new sensation was as alarming as it was surprising.  Her nipples must have been more engorged than they ever had been in her life time.

 

Sandra looked down at the imposing shelf made by her outsize breasts, half expecting to see her nipples pointing out through her jacket like spear tips.  But she didn't see any thing but the smooth fabric of her custom tailored jacket.

 

But she sure felt them.  In fact, she clearly felt her nips press against her braw with every breath she took.

 

That was when her cunt made its presence felt through a series of twitches, as if it resented being left out.  Sandra began to feel that horny moist feeling take hold around her crotch.  Her eyes fluttered as she let out with a silent gasp from the sensations.

 

It suddenly accrued to her that the heat she thought was coming from the room, was in fact some kind of intense, sexual stimulation.  One unlike any thing she had ever felt before.  Even a man’s greedy and knowing fingers never had this kind of effect.  It also accrued to her that she must have been broadcasting these sensations to all the men in the room through her facial expressions.

 

She nervously looked around to see if any one had taken notice of her state of arousal.  But so far every one was still focused on Mr. Presario who continued his rant.  He marched up and down the length of the table, some times punctuating his points in the faces of his opponent.

 

So Sandra put on her poker face and redoubled her attention on her notes, trying to focus past the stimulation.  On the bright side, this would make the meeting less tedious, and it would make it virtually impossible for Presario to rattle her cage again.

 

But her body was not making it easy for her to ignore this powerful lust that was lighting up her nervous system.  But some how, Sandra struggled on, and manage to continue her notes.

 

But just as she thought she had a handle on her situation, her stimulation exploded, sending a powerful tidal wave of raw carnal lust pouring through her senses.  She swallowed nervously and squirmed in her chair, trying to keep these sensations bottled up.  She could feel the heat rising from her groin, she could feel her nipples stretching longer still, and pressing more firmly against her brazier.  They felt positively huge, as if they were going to brake free and fill the room.  She felt her ring tighten around her finger, and the cups of her bra, as well as both nipple cups, began to shift under her jacket.  And she wasn't sure, but there seemed to be some kind of faint stretching sound.

 

Her feet suddenly hurt.  It felt like the straps of her heals were being ratcheted down on her feet, crushing them.  They were already painful enough as it was, but now they were becoming positively excruciating.

 

This set up a bizarre contradiction deep within her.  One the one hand, she was trying to hold back an ocean of lust and need, and yet on the other, a biting pain.  That was when the straps on her left heal snapped, and her shoe fell off.  In short order, the right shoe followed.  At least the pain was gone, but now there was no counterbalance to the raw carnal pleasure coursing through her nervous system.

 

"Are you okay?"

 

The question startled her from her euphoria.  She turned to her right and saw hansom man with a full head of dusty brown hair, who was looking at her with concern.

 

 "Are you okay?” he said, “You look a bit... flushed."

 

"Huh?  Oh, no.  Um, I am fine," she said, “thanks for asking.”  She had managed to maintain her poker face, but it took an extreme amount effort to keep her voice from cracking from the pleasure that was playing havoc with her senses.

 

Oh yes, Mr.  I am just fine.  In fact, I am just a breath away from creaming all over the board room.   "I am just a little warm, that's all,” she said, “And maybe a bit dehydrated."

 

In the mean time, she felt as if her nipples were growing even larger, and could swear she felt her bra cups shift even more under her blouse.  If she didn't know better, she would almost say her bra was a size to small.  But of course, it fit perfectly when she put it own this morning.

 

"I see," the man next to her said, "Let me get you some water for you than."  With a smile back, her Good Samaritan stood up and approached one of the usurers, leaving Susan alone to try and paper over her raging volcano like lust.

 

The sensations contused for a full minute before they finally retreated.  And that ever so subtle stretching sound that she thought she heard finally returned to her the confines of her imagination.  But she wasn't out of the woods just yet; her nipples were now fully erect, and almost painfully trapped between her boobs and the lining of her bra.  She could even feel her nipple cups pinching them from the sides.  She could feel her bra rubbing against her swollen and sensitive anerols with every breath.  Her pussy lips were firmly pressed against her panties that were sopping wet.  If she wasn't wearing a skirt, she was certain that a wet spot would now be visible in her crotch.

 

Sandra continued to smolder, just waiting to burst into flames again and helpless to rain in her control, so much so that she was giving serious thought to dismissing herself from the room in order to go look for some privacy.  She didn't know how long she could keep every thing bottled up and hidden.

 

But her thoughts of leaving were momentarily interrupted when her Good Samaritan returned with a tall glass of clear water.  Witch she took gratefully.  She then saw his eyes linger over her bosom.

 

The man next to her left then sniffed the air, then gave her an unusual, almost sinister smile."

 

"Hi," she said.

 

"Hi," the man to her left responded, "That is an interesting perfume you are warring.  I was curious as to what label it might be."

 

"Thank you," she said.  Perfume?  I am not wearing any perfume.  My GOD, he can smell my lust!

 

That was when he noticed stealing a glance at her bosom.  She suddenly turned back to look at the man who had just brought her the water.  Who himself was just then turning away.

 

Men had always stared at her figure, her tits in particular.  But never like this.

 

That was when she looked down to see exactly what it was that they were looking at.  What she saw shocked her to such an extreme that she momentarily broke her poker face.  Her jacket looked to small for her bust, despite it having a tailored fit.  She could see stress folds forming under the pectorals, and the fabric around the buttons was clearly strained and slightly pulled apart.  It was also apparent that her nips were no longer hidden behind even the layers of thick fabric.  They could be clearly seen through her jacket, like pointy buttons, clearly advertising her arousal.

 

What is going on here?

 

"Are you sure you are all right?" her Good Samaritan said again.

 

"I am perfectly fine," she said.   But the snap in which she spoke wasn’t entirely convincing.  She tried to restore her poker face, to once more force into hiding her deep and all consuming lust.  Just then, things got worse.

 

Oh no!  It's happening again.

 

Her nips and cunt lit up again, flooding her body with an undeniable lust.  It was all she could do to keep from gasping, braking out into a pant, or crying out in heat, let alone reconstruct her poker face.  So instead, she focused strait ahead, trying to keep her lust contained.  She firmly grasped the sides of her chair, digging her fingernails into the leather, as once again she began to feel things shift around under her jacket.  But perhaps the two men on either side of her wouldn't notice any thing unusual?

 

But they did notice.  In fact, they couldn’t take their eyes off of her.  It was just that the two of them just weren’t sure of what to make of what they were seeing and hearing.  To them, it looked as if her bust was inflating with every deep breath she took, but her chest never fully deflated back to its starting point.  Almost as if they were growing.  But of course, both men dismissed that as impossible.   The stress folds under her pectorals became deeper, and the gaps between the buttons along the front of her jacket became wider.  And her nips that were poking through the front of her jacket became even more pronounced.  In fact, new stress folks began to form between her nips and the bulk of her breasts.

 

There was a soft "tink" as her ring suddenly broke, and flew off her finger like a spring.  It flew across the room and landed with a "thunk" on the CEO's table.

 

The broken ring's sudden appearance did not go unnoticed by half of the CEO's, but it was hardly any thing significant enough to interrupt the bitter arguments taking place.  Mr. Presario had not noticed the flying accessory, and was still laying down the rhetoric rather thickly.

 

In the mean time, Sandra continued to do battle with her self, fighting off temptation and lust with all of her intellect and will power.  She began to take in long deep breaths to stave off her panting.  She could feel her boobs starting to squeeze out past her bra, and her cunt lips pressing against her panties with such force as to ring out her love juices.  And that sound of stretching was even louder this time.  Loud enough that she couldn't dismiss the sound as some mere fantasy this time.

 

Mean while, the two men on ether side of her were hypnotized by the swell of her bosom, wondering how long the jacket would take the strain.

 

This lasted for a full minute, a minute that seemed to last as long as an eternity.  It was all that Susan could do to keep herself from going over an edge from which she knew she could never return from.  So she was very relieved when the powerful stimulation finally subsided.

 

But only then was she of a mind to finally take a look around her.  That was when she saw both men on either side of her, staring rather coldly at her.  Several other men had noticed as well.  But once they became aware that she was no longer lost in her euphoria, and noticed them staring, they all looked away.

 

The only person, who didn’t avert his eyes, was the Good Samaritan.  But at least he was not leering at her; instead, he was showing a state of genuine concern.

 

“You are not all right, are you,” he said.

 

Her stimulation was still extremely distracting.  But something in his tone just touched a nerve.  Perhaps it was just the fact that she was feeling so venerable, so exposed, that made her want to bite his head off.

 

“Leave me alone!” Sandra managed to say.

 

“No.  You are clearly not well,” he said, “You look… bloated.”

 

"I am not bloated!" Sandra shouted.

 

Suddenly, all debate in the room came to a halt as all eyes suddenly fell on her.  The sternest gaze came from Mr. Presario himself.  If he noticed her condition, he did a remarkable job of not showing it.

 

"If you have something you wish to say, Ms. Leavers, than I would strongly advice that you wait until the floor recognizes you to speak,” Presario said, “Mr. Chairman, I ask that this woman be…”

 

Suddenly, the Good Samaritan jumped up from his seat, and stepped in front of her.  Sandra wondered if he was doing this in part to conceal her condition from the rest of the room.

 

"Her outburst is my fault, Mr. Chairman," he said, "I said something to her that on reflection was very inappropriate for me to say.  I apologize to Ms. Leavers, as well as to the panel, for the outburst.”

 

“Rather than continuing for force her to stay silent, I think its time we let Leavers speak,” another CEO said.

 

“Here-here, I think I speak for all of us that we have had enough of Presaro’s accusations for one day,” another said, “I move we give the floor to the good doctor."

 

"I second the motions," some one else said.

 

The room again filled with bitter argument.  But it was evident that the overwhelming majority of the panel was in agreement.  The Chairman had to gavel the board back to order, but then relented to the majority.  He waved Leavers to the open podium as a clear invitation to speak. 

 

Sandra gulped nervously as all eyes fell on her, and silence dominated the room, waiting for her to break it.  She practically felt naked in front of the whole room.

 

Reluctantly, she stood up from her chair, and put her poker face back on.  But every move flooded her with new sensations.  It became apparent just how small her jacket both looked, and felt on her.  But standing up also revealed that her skirt was also tight now, and that her belt was digging painfully into her sides.

 

She took a step towards the podium, and her senses were assaulted by a fresh wave of near orgasmic stimulation.  Every move rubbed her erogenous zones, and with every step, she risked shattering her stoic demeanor.

 

She could feel her love juices dripping from her snatch, and starting to flow into her hosiery.  And she could feel that her bust had become significantly larger than it was when she came into this room a few hours ago.  Looking down, it was evident that she had picked up at least two cup sizes in less than an hour.  And her jacket was so tight that it felt that one good breath may be all that was needed to pop a seam or throw a button.

 

Without a mirror, there was no way for her to know just how visible the changes were.  But the looks on the men's faces clearly demonstrated that they did notice.  They were all just disciplined (or fearful enough of a sexual harassment law suite) to not say any thing.

 

Sandra was grateful when she finally reached the podium.  No longer having to walk men she now stood a better chance at maintaining her control.  But she could still feel every stitch and weave of her panties through the lips of her cunt, and she could still feel the hot iron rods that were her nipples, trying to punch holes in her jacket.

 

She tried to speak, but her voice cracked from the raw power of the lust within her.  So she paused, and tried again with a bit more formality.

 

"Gentlemen," she said, "It alarms me to here you debating weather this project is worth supporting.  You may argue about how much by way of man power and money should be given to this project in any given year.  And perhaps there is a case to be made that too much is being devoted to this project.  But I do not see how any of you can challenge the world changing potential of this research.”  Sandra spoke with a surprising level of formality, but try as she might, she just couldn’t filter out that sultry, seductive quality of her voice. 

 

"We are trying to develop ways of manipulating the very fabric of space and time, Sandra continued, “The projector that we have built in the basement should, in theory, expand that fabric.  Once we master this aspect of physics, then we have basically built the worlds first star drive.  The ability to warp space is all that is needed to propel a ship to the stars at speeds significantly faster than the speed of light, with modest levels of power that is easily within our current technological means to generate.  Interstellar space exploration suddenly becomes something that can happen within our life times, quite possibly even within the next twenty years.

 

"This is more than a world of opportunity, but a galaxy of opportunity.  And this company will be the company that blazes the trails, and ignites the imagination of the whole of the Human Race.  Just think of... of.. of the mining... opportunities."

 

No!  Not again!  Not now!  Oh GOD - this feels so good!  This can't be happening to me!

 

But it was happening.  That driving, overpowering, lustful stimulation had returned with as much force as ever.  She hardened her façade, trying to drive her focus into her speech.  But this time around, her attempts to ignore her body, only seemed to intensify the sensations all the more.  She feared that this time, she could not escape the lung screaming, brain splitting orgasm that she had been fighting for the past hour.

 

"We will be able to... deeply probe... the secrets of space.  Our business operations will become... bigger... and harder... as we.. thrust... into new directions," she said, unable to avoid the cryptic double meanings.

 

She tightly gripped the sides of the podium to steady herself against the quivering twitches of her cunt.  She drew in a deep breath through her teeth, and switched her had to the side.  She continued to try and speak, but each word was now punctuated with a deep guttural feminine grunt.  She sucked in a deep breath through her teeth, and felt the stitching of her jacket straining against her tits as her lungs inflated.  Her nipples were painfully compressed.

 

And then things got worse.  As if her un-concealable pleasure was not enough, every one in the room suddenly became aware of an unusual stretching sound that was starting to emanate from her.  Once again, she could feel her clothing starting to shift over her skin.

 

"We must... expand... into space.  We must… grow… larger… grasp this orgy of opportunity, with both hands…" she grunted.

 

She could fight it no longer as her façade of professionalism crumbled under the shear might of her woman hood.  She switched her head again, gasping out loud.  The barrette that held her hair in her business bun had also been forced to endure its own stress, and could take no more.  With a snap, it broke, freeing the long locks of hair that now cascade about her shoulders.

 

There was a gunshot like bang as her left nipple suddenly burst out of her jacket.  Her right nipple followed suite.  She could now feel them expanding into the cool air, becoming longer, thicker, and harder still.  There new found freedom was beyond accelerating.

 

And yet still she resisted.  Even though any composure she once had, had now completely vanished.  Her pleasure made her lost in her own world of experience, so she wasn't aware of just how obvious her lust was to the men around her.

 

The stretching sound continued to sound off around her.  That was when she became aware of another sensation.  Her hands were still firmly gripping the podium, locking them in place.  Never the less, she was feeling her hands slowly being lowered, as if some one was slowly dropping the podium in front of her.

 

Her nipples were now four inches long, looking like raging sexual spear tips, ready to poke out the eyes of the first man that got to close.  With her nipples finally freed from their confines, this opened up some room in her jacket.  But this room was quickly taken up by her expending breasts, and her jacket was now as tight as ever.  Eventually, the seams under her pectorals finally gave way, and opened up with an audible rip.  The heavy duty clasp on her bra snapped apart, causing her tits to jump as if they had a life of their own.  This added stress was all that was needed to overcome the grip of the buttons along the front of her jacket, and they flew off, flying in all directions.  The front of her jacket was then opened up, or at least as much as her now five inch nipples would allow.  Underneath, every one could now see that she had on a light pink blouse, whose buttons were still holding on.

 

The belt around her skirt finally snapped, and fell to the floor.  Her widening hips pulled her skirt tight around her, taking up every inch of slack, and still her hips continued to grow.  The side of her skirt then opened up with a rip.

 

All the while, Sandra’s passion continued to mount.  Faintly, her own resistance was crushed, as even she could no longer deny that there was no turning back from here.  A world shattering orgasm was now inevitable.

 

"Fuck it!" she said with a growl.  Her eyes then flashed open as she took in the men around her, "Let's ride this fucking wave."

 

The men around here were alarmed as it was.  The only think that kept them running in panic was the fact that she was just so sexy.  The pungent odor of her sex was filling the room, doing a great deal to confuse the men, and to conceal the true gravity of the situation they were faced with.

 

With her inhibitions shattered, Sandra spread her legs, as if to open her self up to the coming orgasm.  But she continued to grips the podium now leaning into it as if to brace her self for what was coming for her.  She now welcomed it.

 

The rip in her skirt continued to migrate down her hip.  And the CEO who sat next to her could now see the hem of her skirt slowly rising up her leg.  Drops of lust juice began to dribble from her love box and fall onto the gold colored shag carpet.

 

"YES!" she cried as she tossed her head back, throwing the locks of hair about her, and freeing more and more of her hair from its former bun shape, this also thrusted out her swelling bosom, ripping apart her jacket even more.  Finally, her blouse had reached its limit, and the buttons began to pop off like popcorn.  Her pink blouse parted to expose a lacy and clearly undersized white brazier.

 

"My God!" the CEO to her left said in a panic.  He bolted up from his chair to put some distance between them as he suddenly felt exposed.

 

This grabbed Sandra’s attention as her eyes suddenly flashed open and she turned to glare at this cowardly CEO through her lust bound haze.  And for the first time, she noticed that her visual perspective was noticeably rising.

 

That was when she became aware of yet another sensation – power; a raw, uncontainable, and relentlessly growing, power.  She had probably only grown about half a foot from her original height, and yet she could barely contain that sense of unrelenting might that would soon be at her disposal.  She was still shorter than all of the CEOs who had suddenly stood up to back away from her.  And yet she still felt as if she towered over all of them.

 

This sense of power only amplified the force of her coming orgasm, a hundred fold, and she drank in the looks of fear around her, letting them feed that sense of power, just as her relentless sexual stimulation and building lust continued to build her orgasm.

 

Her jacket continued to shred apart around her.  Now, the back split open, pulled apart by her widening shoulders.   The sleeves began to ride up her arms, and were starting to run out of room to accommodate her thickening arms.  Tarring fabric began to mingle with that rather loud and relentless stretching sound.

 

She began to ground loudly, as her orgasm began to bear down on her.  But something interrupted her climax.  Some one had grabbed her by the shoulder, and turned her around.

 

It was none other than Mr. Presario himself.  And unlike the other men, he hardly seemed intimated by her growth at all.  In fact, it looked as if he was enraged by this unexpected development

 

“You bitch!” he shouted, “what is the meaning of this outrage!  You did this on purpose, didn’t you!  You took advantage of this company to feed your own lust for sin and power!  You set us…”

 

Sandra didn’t hear a single word he said, as her orgasm made her all but deaf.  Instead, she shot him a knowing, cat-ate-the-canary grin as she looked up at him.  But it was a perspective that was rapidly changing as she continued to grow taller; her eye’s relentlessly rising up to his level.

 

Her blouse and jacket had finally been ripped completely apart by tits that were now the size of basket balls, and nail hard nipple poking out an alarming six inches.  Even smaller, she was now an imposing figure.  Made even more so when she finally looked him directly into the eye.

 

Presario’s rage then swept away, replaced by fear and intimidation, as she began to look down on him.

 

This dramatic change in perception was all that was needed to trigger the full force of her monstrous orgasm.  Her body began to shudder, as she panted and grunted.  But still her gaze was locked on Presario’s as he continued to back away.  Her cunt was practically gushing.

 

Eventually, she lost complete control; her knees began to buckle from the raw pleasure.  She turned to brace herself against the podium.  She tightly shut her eyes.

 

“Yes!  Oh yes!  I am coming!  Coming! Ah! Ah! AH!”

 

The climax physically struck her, an orgasm that was a hundred times more powerful than even the most virulent of men that she had ever ridden.

 

“Oh yes!  Yes!  YES!” Sandra shouted, “Make me bigger!  Ahaaaa!”

 

Her lust made her arch her back and stretch, literately making it seem as if she as expanding into all corner of the room as she was continuing to grow. This image shook some of the men around her out of their own lust induced hesitation as real fear was introduced into the room.  The stretching sound that she continued to make only fueled the panic.

 

Sandra’s orgasm surged, and she suddenly tore the podium away from the table, and threw it across the room, where it stuck a CEO who was not alert enough to dodge it.

 

Her hands now free, and still in the throws of her orgasm, she reached around her tits to grab herself, almost as if she had a need to hold onto them.  But they were huge, filling her arms.  They were so massive, that her hands could not meet on the other side.  And her arms bumped up against the long and sensitive shafts that were her nipples.

 

When she peeked, she was finally overcome, and crumpled to the floor.  All she could do now was pant heavily as the aftershocks slowly rippled through her.  The stretching sound around her began to subside, as did all of that artificial stimulation that caused all of this to happen.  Leaving her num, but insanely happy, as if pure joy has been soaked into her flesh.  And looking down at her tits, there was a lot of flesh to be happy.

 

With a long sigh, she pushed herself onto her hands and knees, an interesting challenge considering the unbelievable size of her tits.  But as her euphoria began to ebb away, she could feel her nipples starting to relax and contract.  She felt dizzy, and was starting to hyperventilate, so she willed her breathing to slow and calm itself.

 

Sandra carefully gathered her strength, pushed herself to her feet, and rose to her full height, what she figured to be close to seven feet tall, easily taller than the remaining men in the room.

 

Most every one had cleared out of the room when she climaxed.  But there were still a few lingering.  Two men were helping the man that she had accidentally struck with the podium.  And judging by their concern, he was seriously injured.  Others were simple hypnotized, and didn’t poses the wit to run.

 

For a moment, she was tempted to feel sympathy for them, or even regret for her unintended actions.  She had after all, seriously injured another human being.

 

But then she remembered who they were, they were CEO's who had no problem laying off thousands of workers and cutting pensions plans, even as they padded their own wallets, and few around the world in company jets.  Worse than that, they were men, who considered them selves to be superior to her in every way.  They thought themselves smarter, simply because they happened to be larger and stronger.

 

Well, that was clearly no longer the case.  Now she had the advantage.  That was her final feelings for them; they got what was coming to them, and she was not through with them yet.  There was about ten thousands years of humiliation and repression that had to be made up for. 

 

She turned her head and noticed that Mr. Presario was still in the room.  However, in his case, the look on his face told Sandra that he didn’t run because he was hypnotized by her feminine majesty, but was simply petrified from fear.  So much so that she could see him shaking, and took note that his jaw was twitching nervously.

 

Turning, Sandra gave Mr. Presario a wicked and knowing smile, and strutted over to him.  This only made his shivering more pronounced as he backed away against the wall.  And still she advanced.  She stopped just short of letting her tits press into his chest.  She was a full head taller than he was, so he could still look down into her impressive cleavage.

 

Sandra then spread her legs in a defiant stand, placed her hands on her wide hips, and threw her shoulders back that made her orbs even more imposing than they were.  And she could hardly contain a girlish, yet sinister giggle.

 

“Well, Mr. all knowing, Chief Executive Officer,” Sandra said with a deep and sultry voice, “It looks like the process worked after all, doesn’t it.  And I can’t seem to think of any risks at all.  Can you?”

 

She was mocking him.  Of course there was a down side.  She had power, and he didn’t.  But he was so gripped with fear that he shook his head any way, just to agree with her.

 

That was when she felt something.  Apparently Presario felt it as well as he looked down between his chest and edge of her tits.  What she felt, was her nipples becoming engorged again.  It was now starting to press into Presario’s chest.

 

“Oh” Sandra coed.  She turned her head to the side and looked at her shoulder as she was taken with thus sudden sensation.  But the feelings from her nipple didn’t come alone.  Her cunt began to twitch as well as once again, she could feel that artificial stimulation starting to course through her.

 

She then turned back to look down at Presario again, who began to wince in pain as it seemed that her nipple was pointy and hard enough to pin him to the wall.  Realizing the danger he was in, he looked up at her, his eyes marinated in absolute terror.  As it was clear that he knew, what she did. 

 

“Hmmm, perhaps I was mistaken,” Sandra said, “It would seem that not only did the process work, but it is still working.”

 

The next thing the two of them heard; was a stretching sound.