Hive
by delicious
mystery in space: hormone experiment distracting the detective 




Medical histories are usually boring for the uninitiated.  As I ride the
shuttle up to the moonbase, I try to stay awake.  It's only because
these documents are crucial evidence in the cases I'm investigating
that I'm forcing myself to read.  We are about to land, and I must
force my eyes to stay open, as the screen displays the pages.

Then I come across something that must be a mistake, or a trick of
my eyes. Had I misread the doctor's bad handwriting?
          -bigger she gets, the healthier she seems 
          -has the most massive breasts I have ever seen.
If ever there was a sentence to wake a man, that's it. I sat up 
immediately.
          -patient enjoys entire examination without discomfort.  
          -has unlimited lubricity
...Lubricity?  I hit the dictionary key, and it says "salubrious, wet,
damp... " Whatever was the doctor doing to her that he noticed how
wet she was?  And should there have been discomfort?
          -patient too big for table.  
          -examining elsewhere.
His place or hers?  

Another entry totally mystified me: "serving the queen of the hive:
see Scientific American, Rodgers, '06".Attached I found an article
detailing the behaviour of the termite queen and the males who
serviced her. I was intrigued to discover that the doctor had
highlighted this passage:
"queen swells to over 500 times the size of the male".  

The last entry that appears looks totally unprofessional to my
untrained eye. Crossed-out entries appear, as if he were lost in
thought:
           Gorgeous Goddess Giant Janet
That ends the only account of another missing Medic's last days on
duty at the base.  He is not the only one.  The doctors are US
Military personnel, and its my job to find them or account for their
disappearance.

..........Janet?   Hmm.

On arrival at the base, the "fasten your seatbelts" sign finally goes
out, and I'm grinning at the thought that I'm looking for Janet based
on the only clues we have: her massive breasts, her unlimited
wetness, and her overall size. Or should I think of the base as a
"hive"? And was she really "too big for the table"?  In that case,
where could she hide in this colony?

I step out the door, into the one large space in the colony: the
spaceport.   There are two shuttles, and three women.  My eye takes
it in at once.  The shuttles are the size of elephants, and, come to
think of it, so are the women.  But we've all seen shuttles before.

I notice that a crowd of smaller people are watching.  The three
women are playing basketball. There is nothing especially ponderous
about these women.  The lighter gravity of the moon, which releases
heart-patients from the stress of gravity permits them to be graceful. 
The women jump to the hoop effortlessly despite enormous, massive
bodies.

What's going on here?  The men who are watching are drooling
visibly.  If anything these women does violates military protocol or
rules, these men will probably defend them.  Or are the women
victims, and someone else is breaking rules?  

Whoa...I find myself automatically assuming that somebody has
broken the rules.  But maybe this is above board, and legal.  

Sure... if that's true, they only sent me here for a holiday.  Gimme a
drink with a little umbrella on it.

Maybe it won't be as easy as I thought to spot Janet.  Each of these
women has breasts larger than......  Come to think of it, a brassiere
that could enclose two such breasts could also function as a
hammock to hold my entire body.   

And then there are the buttocks of these giantesses.  Yes, that's the
word I will use from now on in this report.  The buttocks of these
giantesses protrude an extra metre, as jiggly and mobile in behind as
the breasts are in front.

How do three women play basketball?  Actually they aren't playing a
game. They're merely tossing the ball around, while the men watch
them jiggle.  I've never seen anything like it.  When one of these
colossal women--and one is not much more than a girl of eighteen or
nineteen--jumps, her downward thrusting foot sends her breasts into
a frenzy of shimmying, if shimmy is an adequate term for the wild
gyrations of literally hundreds and hundreds of pounds of soft breast
meat, wiggling in every direction.  There is the balletic arc of flight,
aided by the moon's low gravitation.  And then she lands with a
sound like thunder.  The entire time there are no cheers or
conversation from the stands, although the women communicate
amongst themselves. 

But the men are quietly solemn, as if in a church.  I realize why,
when I notice how excited I am, how short of breath.  If anyone else
feels what I feel, there could be heart-failures occurring.  Or fights.  

But maybe the women keep the peace.  Who could challenge them?

No one pays the recent arrivals--like me-- any attention.  And now,
as the women stop their game, I see why.  They move to the male
audience, and begin a process of choice.  I don't understand the rules,
but the women pick....

"YOU!"

I look up, and realize that the young one is pointing at me.   I am
simultaneously delighted, fainting, terrified, drooling.  I say "yes",
and bound over in her direction with my bag on my shoulder, in
eight-foot kangeroo hops.  As I get closer, and realize how far away
she was, it dawns on me that she is much bigger than I initially
thought.  I was fooled because I didn't expect that the basketball nets
would be adjusted for the women's size.   

This is scary: why does she seem to be twelve feet tall, and ten feet
wide?

I get a no-nonsense introduction.  "I'm Janet--come with me".  She
grabs my hand and takes off, a powerful leap.  I think of a child
dragging her toy bunny along.  I'm the bunny, a toy in her 
tremendously powerful grasp.  

I look at her hand.  I'm staring, awestruck, at a hand that holds my
upper arm from wrist to shoulder.  Her fist is bigger than my head. 
Each finger is bigger than the size of my flexed bicep. Her
thumbnail--polished, I notice--is as big as my entire hand with
fingers outstretched.  Things aren't in proportion, clearly.  Her hands
and her breasts seem extra large for her size.  Also her feet, her
thighs, and her buttocks.  

Maybe proportion is an obsolete idea, considering that these women
are clearly healthy.  My head swims with questions, even though I
am curious about Janet in a very unprofessional way. Although I
wonder whether they'd be able to walk if they had legs of
proportionate size to regular women, and how healthy would they be
in earth-normal gravity,  I am more preoccupied with the kind of
questions I saw in the doctor's report...such as whether to call Janet
"gorgeous" or "goddess".  

Her skin is unbelievably soft to the touch, like a newborn baby. 
Perhaps her growth means that her tissues are as new as those of a
new-born, and therefore as soft.  I find myself stroking her finger.

We stop.  She sets me down before her.

She looks at me, and makes a flat declaration.  "I could pick anyone I
want. Having second thoughts?"

I shake my head, silent, and maybe a bit freaked out.  Having set me
down, I can again see her size.  She looks me in the eye, sees that I'm
timid, and smiles the smile of a love goddess: the smile of a woman
who knows she can have any man or woman she fancies.  Her face
wears the innocence of youth, without any conception that I might be
a danger to her.

Come to think of it, maybe I'm the naive one!  Perhaps I'm in danger.

Sensing some of my tension, if not its cause, she does an elephantine
pirouette, and asks "do you like me ...[spin] this way?"  I am in a
trance watching her, and she sees that I've made the usual response. 
When she spins, her breasts cavort like porpoises, trying to jump out
of the ocean, but only momentarily breaking out of their
containment.  Her cleavage is measured in feet. Giggling, while
tucking the errant breast back into her top, she notes "well you're
normal, anyway.  Try to calm down". 

She's noticed that I'm panting with excitement.  

I wonder what she's wearing...what is it?  I ask her about her clothes. 
"This thing?  Well...we've had to improvise."  Pressing her elbows
towards each other, to magnify those breasts, she remarks casually "I
keep busting out of my clothes".

She moves a bit closer to me.  I realize that there's a wall
immediately behind me.  I also realize that Janet had a workout,
playing basketball: her body is sweating profusely. And I can smell
evidence of what the doctor reported.  Is she excited by those men
watching?  Or by my excitement?  Janet presents her irresistible
frontage to me, moving closer.  It is as though two walls press
against one another, but one is made of.....Janet.  When I say
irresistible I mean in more ways than one.  At eye level she is ten
feet wide.  How could I resist her if I wanted to?  But I'm trembling
at the thought that I wouldn't dream of resisting.  

Her stomach is softer than I expect, as she slowly steps forward. 
With all her physical activity, leaping, and so on, I expected a
muscular tummy, not enveloping softness. 

"You didn't answer my question," she says in a tone that makes it
clear that she's having everything her way.  I wonder when was the
last time anyone dared to contradict her?  I don't know what she's
talking about, but it doesn't matter because I'm pressed deep into her
tummy.  I hear her voice in the distance, through the flesh of her
stomach repeat "I asked if you like me this way!"  My answer is lost
under her.  I can't speak, when I can barely breathe.   

I extend my arms as far as I can reach, finding her nipples with each
hand.  To my delight I realize that this is no accident, but that she is
grinding her breasts into the wall, and welcomes my touch.  "How
did you know that I love that" she purrs, grinding her belly against
me like dough overthrowing the tyranny of the rolling pin.  I hear her
sigh through her giantess-gut-press, as she continues to relentlessly
push me against the wall.  

I address her blubbery stomach, as it holds me captive.  "What do
you love?" Can she hear me, through all that flesh?  I'm so tiny, with
my nose bending against her belly, stretching my arms as far as I can
reach, but still not so wide as her torso.  I feel like an insect smaller
than the foot squashing it.  I repeat as loudly as possible, into her
white immensity, "WHAT DO YOU LOVE?"  I find myself musing
on that insect in the moment of being flattened, ceasing to be an
insect, and becoming loyal to that foot, and its glorious weight...was
there ever such a soft foot? I am immersed in baby-flesh, brand-new
and perhaps just as mindlessly vacant.

She responds, having heard me somehow.  "I love it when they reach
out like that, struggling for air.  Like I'm so big and they're so small. 
It makes me feel bigger, heavier, stronger.  It makes me want to
press again, to crush harder".   And with that she started to press, as
if to show me that she is anything but an empty-headed child.  Her
front started a rhythmic dance, each pelvic rotation coinciding with
her cooing and moaning.  I was still lost in her immense pinky-white
wall.

Janet suddenly pulled back, surprised.  "You really like this, don't
you..."

I panted in reply,"Yes.  You mean the others only pretend to like it? 
Because they're afraid of you, I guess...afraid to disagree with you,
afraid to tell you the truth."

"Hey!"  Janet grabbed my torso in one hand reaching under my left
arm, and lifted me towards her face.  Was she angry with what I'd
said?  She squeezed me in her hand, taking my breath away.  But I
didn't back down.

"Wait...Maybe you can't handle the truth, or it's been awhile since
anyone talked truthfully to you. But I'm not like them.  I wish I could
somehow satisfy you.  This is the most exciting day of my life".  She
put me down.  

Then she opened the door we had been standing beside.  She gently,
but firmly pushed me through the door.  "My quarters."  She smiled. 
"And yours... okay?!"  I nodded quickly, because I again sensed her
power, and her capacity for violence. Nobody ever dared to disagree
with her. But I wanted to get into her quarters....and I wanted to get
into her.

She pulled her clothes off, ignoring me until she was completely
naked.  As expected I was completely mesmerized by her.  She was
as fearless as a mountain, just as beautiful, and possibly as
dangerous.  

I thought I knew what was coming, but once again she surprised me. 
She went to sit on a matted surface.  Perhaps this had been an
exercise studio, and what she was sitting on were floor mats that
were her mattress.   "Sit here" she ordered me.  She pointed to a spot
immediately in front of where she sat, cross-legged, as though she
were the biggest buddha, meditating on her size.

I went to sit where she had pointed, quite happy to join her in the
meditation: I wanted to look at her, to taste her fully, and perhaps to
understand her. She seemed so wise, in spite of her youth.  I couldn't
tell whether she understood the effect of her body on men or not. 
Sitting near her this way she made me feel microscopic, a virtual
pimple under her behind.  I was well below her centre of mass, as
she sat on that floor.  A process as simple as her breathing reminded
me of her size, as her soft breasts quaked so far above me in their
stupefying splendor.  I felt like her toy, or her pet.  Each quiet breath
reinforced the sense that she was growing bigger, and even more
fertile.  She was totally humbling, totally intimidating, and
absolutely irresistible.

As we sat beside each other I compared my thigh on the floor-mat, to
her thigh so close to mine. It was incomprehensible, as a force that
launched her into the air during the basketball game.  It seemed, if
anything, bigger than necessary, but then, what was necessary?   The
sequoia tree-trunk thickness of each thigh was between five and six
feet thick, tapering down to knees that were a positively dainty 20
inches wide.  I compared them to my own legs, and felt faint.  I
glanced at the line where her thighs and buttocks met the mat
beneath her, and thought of  the flexible tires on the shuttle, bending
under the weight of the spacecraft.

As if she were reading my mind, she said "I'll bet you want to know
how big I am...how much I weigh."  I looked up to see a face eager
to talk, and aware of my fascination. Perhaps no one had seemed
genuinely interested in listening to her before now; everyone had
merely complied with her, because her size intimidated them. But I
nodded. I was eager to hear anything she said. I realized that the
simple movement of her lips and jaw as she formed words was as
beautiful as anything I had ever seen in my life.  As I continued to
watch her with my eyes wide, but silent in anticipation, she seemed
on the verge of giggling, but this time I felt a genuine rapport, as
though she somehow knew that this solemn silence was my
unconditional acceptance of her.

"It's hard to know, because I'm growing all the time." She picked up
an item of clothing from the floor beside her.  "See this?  It fit me
last week, and now look at me!"  She held the garment up to her
front.  It was the biggest piece of satin I had ever seen, but it was
almost closer to my size than to hers.   "The last estimate of my size
was made when this fit me: 3,000 pounds.  The garment she
held looked like a child's outfit beside her now.  "My chest
measurement is now about 25" she said.

I looked puzzled, so she explained: "25 feet, of course".  She held it
up to her front again, where the entire garment sat on the shelf of her
breasts inside the lines of her shoulders. Then, thrusting her
shoulders towards me, in a throaty parody of a fashion model, she
said "I'll never get into it again". 

While I tried not to faint from sheer excitement, her size was
becoming clearer. "So how big do you think I am?"  How fast was
she growing, then... and were there limits?

"I know what you're thinking... why is this happening?" Actually,
that wasn't all that I was thinking... I was wondering how big her
breasts could get, and what it would be like to get wrapped up in her
again.  I was thinking about her big stomach and how it had felt.  But
who was I to contradict her?  And I was supposed to investigate the
cause of those disappearances.

I sat up, suddenly, concerned.  The Disappearances!  Was Janet the
cause? Were these three women dangerous? "Hey, where'd you go?" 
She smiled, while looking down at me serenely.  

"Uh.. I was just thinking about the way your body felt all over me. 
And I was wondering how big you could get.  And maybe I hope
you'll keep growing.... Is that okay?"  I wondered if she thought
about getting small again.

She kept smiling serenely, as untroubled as if I were only her pet
kitten.  Clearly her size made her feel safe.  

But I was confused.  I had come here on a mission.  I had expected to
be able to do my job, yet I was becoming obsessed with her smile,
the growth of her body, and the chance to live here with Janet.  Was
she the cause of the disappearances... my enemy?  Perhaps I should
be secretive around her... and maybe she was dangerous.  I knew that
if she became violent I couldn't stand up to her strength and weight
for ten seconds.  Part of me considered telling her who I was in
hopes of spending the rest of my life with her, while part of me
wanted to run for my life.

"We're part of an experiment that's gone in an unexpected direction. 
The original researchers, including my father, had the idea to
simulate the hormonal process of pregnancy, but without a foetus.  In
theory it should have worked the same for a man, although he has
had no measurable response.

"I know you're thinking it's unethical to work on human subjects. 
But my father tried on himself first.  I helped him in his lab, and
knew the risks, and also volunteered.  But he isn't running the
experiment anymore."

I interjected "But wait.  Your father... where is he?  Is he military? 
Would they allow this?"  I was confused.

"Oh, my father's just fine, where he is.  I don't think he's ever been so
happy."

A wash of relief flooded over me at the possibility that there might
be a solution that wouldn't require Janet's prosecution.  "Could I
meet him?"  She smiled, but it was a sad smile; my heart sank as she
quietly shook her head.  "Do you ever see him?"   

She was on the verge of tears.  I got up, and took her hand.  I couldn't
really hug her, because there was too much to put my arms around...
so I stroked her hand, while looking expectantly at her.  "Tell
me" was all I said, and I sat beside her.

"It's different for me than for the other two.  Maureen and Amanda
are both full grown women.  But I'm younger.  I'm bigger because
the cocktail--that's what we called it-- caught the tail-end of my
adolescent growth spurt.  My responses are probably immature,
while theirs are what an adult woman experiences."   She looked up
at me, and grinned unexpectedly.  "How old do you think I am?"

I had thought eighteen or nineteen.  I lied...."T-twenty?"  She 
laughed hysterically, verging on crying by the time she finished.  I
sensed she was profoundly upset.

"I'll be sixteen next month.  Probably the growth will slow down,
once my hormones finish puberty.  But then..." She began to sob
quietly.  "I don't want to be like them".  I was tempted to
interrupt, but merely held her hand.  I pulled out a tissue, so that she
could wipe her eyes.  Then she went on.

"I think my father found something really important.  I just don't
want it".  I kept silent, waiting for an explanation.  "Those women
take very good care of their men.  Did you notice the basketball
game?  I picked you because you were new.  The other men want to
be selected by Maureen or by Amanda...to be in paradise.  Because
that's what their lives are.  My father is in a kind of paradise."

"But" I interjected "you can't talk to him.  Are you sure it's so
wonderful?  Maybe your father would like to see you, once in a
while."  She shook her head, sadly.  

"Okay, forget about that.  But who do you think is paying for this? 
Someday the Pentagon will want to know what you've learned, other
than how to set up a commune where all the men are blissed out
from being pressed by tons of boobflesh.  I suspect there's not much
military value to this experiment..."  

She looked angry for a moment, but I continued on.  "Hey, maybe I
want a piece of the action.  But not with them.  You already invited
me to live in paradise.  Can't I stay for a while?"

Janet leaned forward, until she was on all fours, above me.  Her
breasts hung on either side of my head.  "Let me show you one of the
side-effects of the cocktail".  She grasped one breast between her
hands, then brought it to my face.  "Open up" she commanded.  I
complied, not expecting...Milk!  She was lactating.  I said nothing,
drunk on the idea.  I felt like a baby horse under his mother.

Janet was reading my mind this time.  "Doesn't this remind you of
anything?"  I thought it reminds me that I love you, Janet.  "I love
you too",  she replied.  I gagged. 

"Was that just a coincidence, or did you really read my mind?"

She merely urged her other breast into my face, and said "why fight
it?  Why do you think I never see my father?"  I thought to myself....
I don't know.  Again she replied "because mothers get attached to
their children.  Maureen and Amanda each think of those men as
theirs.  The men don't want to leave.  Maybe someday I'll be the
same."  She shuddered, while I thought to myself that I would love to
be Janet's property.  In a sense I already was.  "No you're not" she
answered.

I pulled away, and thought it was time for honesty.  "Do you  know
why I'm here? Could you sense those thoughts?"  She nodded
silently.  "I want to help your father; I want to help you...I WANT
you."

She nodded again.  "I know that you wanted...something, but now
the crisis is over.  I trust you.  Help me save my father.  And save me
from what I might become."

[next: Going to see the Queen]