Birth of a Weapon - Part III

Blackened silence preceded a slow return to consciousness, a prick of blurry light penetrating her eyes.  Slowly, her vision recognized two black circles stacked vertically, topped with a small fluorescent yellow tube, the source of the dark black circles lost in the bokeh.  She wanted to rub her new eyes into focus, but her movements were restricted, her wrists and ankles tightly bound.
___

Hours ago, a beige Chevrolet had careened into her front lawn, frantically exited by a buxom blond dressed in tattered military clothing, her unclothed breasts bouncing, swaying, and wobbling with each cantankerous step as she approached.

With what seemed to be the last of her strength, the strange woman threw her arms around Melody, caressing Melody’s lips with a passionate lover’s kiss.  She stuttered the words, “I... I love you Melody,” in a thick Russian accent as her body fell limp in Melody’s arms.

Melody considered calling the police, but there was something peculiar about this kiss, something strangely familiar.  The woman was clearly distressed, in need of assistance that a jail cell would not provide.  She wanted to know more about the woman - what she was running from, how she had chose Melody, but most importantly, why she seemed so familiar.  There was also the fact that her ill-fitting clothes were torn and stretched around her body, as if her body had fought to break free.

Grappling with the distressed woman’s torso, Melody dragged the limp, lustful body of the woman into her living room, laying her unconscious on the couch.  Still bewildered, she jealously admired the woman’s incredibly beauty and bombshell body,  her ample, bare bosom nakedly on display.

Melody searched the tattered men’s uniform for information to the woman’s identity.  Her hands brushed against woman’s large, perky breasts as she investigated the standard issue military shirt, finding no clues to the origin of the mysterious woman.  She tried to introduce a bit of modesty to the situation by closing the shirt, but the buttons were missing and the shirt had no hopes of closing around the breasts spilling out.

From the ravished pants stretched tightly around the woman’s waist and round bum, she pulled a men’s wallet containing a driver’s license, military ID, a few credit cards and some loose cash.  After placing the wallet on the coffee table, she reached into the front pockets of the pants, pulling out a pack of gum and a laminated badge attached to a lanyard.

Turning over the badge, Melody felt a chill travel down her spine, followed by a hot flash as her heart sunk to the floor while she read writing on the badge.

    Advanced Genetics Laboratories
    Visitor’s Pass

“Son of a bitch” she stammered quietly.  She had never seen this woman in her life, how could she have a pass to the same lab that she and Andrew worked in?  She shivered as another chill swept over her body, perspiration starting to trickle down her forehead.  Melody knew this was no coincidence; this woman knew exactly where she was driving to and who she she intended to find.  She couldn’t be trusted.

Melody hastily ran to her garage in search of something to tie up her captive.  She searched the shelves and cabinets before her eyes fell upon her sailboat, the nylon rope rigging perfect for binding the limbs of a detainee.  Rope in hand, she returned to the living room to find the woman still unconscious on the sofa.

Melody positioned the woman in an upright position, the woman’s head slumping over her bare, full bosom, her long blonde locks covering her breasts like curtains over a window.  Melody bound the woman’s ankles first and then routed the rope beneath the sofa.  She pulled the woman’s arms behind the back of the sofa and bound her wrists with the remaining section of rope.  Melody ran to her bedroom, ransacking her closet until uncovering a long, black case.  From the case, she withdrew an antique over-under shotgun and two red shells.

Melody returned to her living room, breaking the shotgun’s action open and inserting the two shells.  Her captive’s head was starting to bob, her luscious, long, blonde hair swaying as she began to regain consciousness.  Melody inserted the shells into the chambers closed the gun’s action, aiming the barrels inches from the woman’s head as she sat opposite of her captive.
___

Her vision now fully restored, Antenov peered through the foreign mess of blond hair obstructing her vision.  She now recognized the black circles positioned inches from her nose as the stacked barrels of an over-under shotgun.  She frantically struggled to free herself from the restraints, her movements futile.  Her disheveled blond hair prevented her from identifying her captor.

“Vhere am I?  Who are you?” Antenov demanded to know a thick russian accent.  She wondered why her words hadn’t come out in an American accent? Perhaps her facial muscles had not retained the muscle memory necessary for maintaining the American dialect.

Melody remained silent as she held the gun trained on the russian woman, the barrels nervously wavering.  Another chill traveled down her spine as she continued to sweat.

Struggling to see her captor, Antenov desperately shook her head in attempt to rid her vision of the of her long blond hair, her breasts wobbling and jiggling as she tried to free herself of the nuisance.  Finally, she flicked her head diagonally, flipping her hair to one side.  With one eye covered by the blond locks and the other uninhibited, she traced the barrels of the firearm to the woman behind them.  “Meelody?” she questioned in her slightly diminished russian voice.

“How do you know my name?  Who are you?” questioned Melody.

“Meelody, it’s me, Andrew!” Antenov exclaimed.

“Honey, I’m afraid that’s pretty fucking impossible.  Now, how do you know my name and how do you know Andrew?” Melody questioned.

“I’m Andrew!  You’ve got to believe me!” demanded Antenov, her thick russian accent still betraying her.

“Andrew is my boy-”  Melody paused mid-sentence as another chill surged through her body, far more severe than the last.  She retrained the barrels of the gun on the woman’s nose.  “... my boyfriend, BOY friend.  Take a good look lady, you’ve got a heck of a set of woman parts on you.”  The barrels of the gun continued to waver as Melody felt smaller, more frequent surges of ecstasy penetrate every cell of her body, sweat dripped from her eyebrow onto the wooden stock of the gun.

Antenov’s head fell as she examined the massive mounds of flesh protruding from her chest.  “I ... Meelody ... I can explain.”  Her breasts heaved as she replenished her breath.  “Your ... your compound ... it changed me; it transformed me,” pleaded Antenov in her Russian accent.

“Try again,” demanded Melody.  The painfully pleasant sensations grew stronger in her pelvis.  She squirmed under their pleasure as she crossed her legs beneath her pencil skirt in a ladylike fashion.  She shifted her shoulders, attempting to relieve the strain of her tighter feeling bra as more chills swept over her body.  The twin barrels of the shotgun remained on her captive’s beautiful eyes.

“It was Smith!  Smith injected me with your serum!”  Antenov exclaimed.  She noticed Melody’s shirt seemed tighter, more strained, her nipples beginning to show through her bra and silk blouse.

“Smith, who’s Smith? I don’t know anyone named ‘Smith’” replied Melody as she shivered under sudden searing blissful cold chills.

“Agent Smith, a CIA agent,” Antenov replied.  She continued to detail the course of events that lead to her female form.  Antenov could see Melody’s growing disbelief as she neared the end her tale.  She also noticed Melody’s increased discomfort, Melody sporadically shifting about as if she was being pleasurably prodded by an invisible force.  The barrels of the gun shifted more sporadically with each moment.

“You had lobster,” said Antenov.

“Excuse me?” replied Melody.  Her skirt felt tight at the waist.  Her thighs were burning with pleasure, the sensation increasing in proportion with the proximity to her pelvis.  Her chest felt as if it was on fire.  Every inch of her hair tingled.  Every fibre of of her being was under attack by pure ecstasy.

“Lobster, after the oysters, you had poached lobster,” replied Antenov.  “Tiramisu for dessert, though my dessert was much sweeter,” said Antenov, involuntarily batting her womanly eyelashes as she smiled.

“What are you talking about!?” exclaimed Melody.  Her entire body was an inferno of pleasure and pain.

“The night ve first made love,” replied Antenov.  “Meelody, your hair!” she exclaimed. Melody’s lustrous black hair was being invaded by vivid crimson red strands.

“You kissed me,” said Melody in a soft voice.  

“Ve did more than that,” replied Antenov.

“No, you kissed me!” exclaimed Melody.  “When you arrived here today, you kissed me.  You could be contagious, infectious.  You kissed me!”  Her blouse tightened as a button popped free, bouncing lightly on the floor into obscurity.  Her bra stained against the increased pressure, the underwire digging into her flesh.  The pencil skirt was approaching its capacity to withhold the curvature of her hips.

“So, you believe me?” inquired Antenov.  Hearing the sound of tearing cotton, Antenov traced the trajectory of the rogue button, her vision returning to the open blouse freely  displaying the lace bra of her captor.

The barrels of the shotgun fell to the floor.  “I ... I’ve got to go. Don’t move!” demanded Melody as she laid the shotgun on the table next the sofa, securely out of reach of her prisoner.  She stood and began to walk gently, her pencil skirt tearing slightly against the strain of her expanding hips and thickening thighs with each cautious step towards her bedroom.  Antenov noticed a new voluptuous sway to Melody’s strut as she vanished into the dark hallway, her plumping ass bobbing to and fro underneath the tightly stretched skirt.

Melody briskly closed the door to her bedroom and immediately tore her silk blouse loose from her torso, her breasts feverishly trying to escape her black lace bra.  Her skirt’s zipper broke free and separated, finally relieving her waist of the cotton strain as it fell to the floor.  She stood astounded and helpless in only black lace panties and a failing black lace bra.  Her breasts continued to grow at an alarming rate, tingling and burning as they tested the bra’s capacity, the fabric irritating her growing erect nipples.  Melody’s body was evolving at a rapid pace, leaving her mind desperately trying to cope with the science of it all.

The clasp of her bra broke free against the pressure of her swelling bosom.  Her hands instinctively fell upon the synthetic fabric, cupping her breasts in hopes of hindering their growth.  The flesh swelled around her fingertips, her nipples hardening with each deep breath, they felt as if they could cut solid rock like a hot knife through butter.  Tender to the touch, her chest simultaneously tingled with delight and pulsed with pain as her breasts continued to develop, perkily expanding outward.  Melody shivered as she released the purportless garment, letting it fall to the floor as her perky tits hung free from restraint.

A growing sensation traveled her spine and into her pelvis, causing a foreign, chilling wave of elation to oscillate throughout her body.  She stumbled towards her full length mirror, her hands falling upon her hips as the sensation intensified, a flame front of bliss propagating from her womanhood to her extremities.  Her fingertips tingled as she grasped her buttocks, flesh expanding around them as her voluptuous ass blossomed.  She could feel her lengthened fingernails teasing the nerves of her round, plump butt, heightening her libido.

The sensations subsided as Melody sighed in front of the mirror, her hands rising to and combing through her new crimson locks.  Her hair was longer, just past shoulder length with an abrupt curl at the end. Her face was the same, but different, softer and more sensual.  Her lips were fuller, her eyes clearer, and her skin was smoother and more supple.  Her breasts were full and round, her nipples still erect and sensitive.  Her vision fell upon her wider hips and narrow waist, her black panties elastically coping with their increased girth, leading to her thicker, powerful thighs.  Her body had transformed into everything she had ever wished for, but something was off.  The pain returned as the revolution of her body continued.

Melody moaned deeply, her hands grasping her throbbing womanhood as intense blasts of bliss exploded from within her pelvis, plumping her ass, expanding her hips, and swelling her thighs.  The pulses proliferated through her spine, concentrating in her bosom as her breasts grew at a more rapid rate.  The pleasure caused her moans to crescendoing into primeval sexual cries, her hands rising to her breasts as they continue to accrue girth.  Her chest had quadrupled in size, her fleshy orbs expanding around her fingertips, her nipples hard as diamonds.  Her body was exploding with sexuality, expanding to voluptuous proportions as she fell to her knees.

The pain began to subside, but small pockets of pleasure still exploded randomly throughout her body.  Melody’s hands fell upon her creamy thighs, following their curvature to her round hips.  They continued to trace a perfect hourglass figure before falling upon her bosom.  Her breasts had developed to massive proportions, feeling heavy and soft as she deeply massaged them.  She pressed them together, in awe at the sight of her own cleavage.  Melody was struggling to cope with idea that this was her beautiful, voluptuous body.

She heard the sound of a door closing outside her room.  In her moment of distress, passion, and bewilderment, she had forgotten about her captive tied up in her living room.  She had forgotten about Andrew.  

Melody searched her closet for clothes that would fit her new hourglass frame.  Her bras were useless, her blouses unable to cope with her new breast size.  None of her skirts or pants would encompass the girth of her new hips.  She fiercely pulled a pair of spandex bike shorts over legs, the spandex stretching tightly around her hips and ass.  She squeezed into v-neck teeshirt and positioned it tightly on her torso.  Yesterday, the teeshirt would have hung loosely, her small breasts hidden beneath the fabric.  Today, the garment hugged her hips and squeezed tightly against her chest, the v-neck showing off her massive cleavage.

Melody made her way back to the living room, her hips and ass swaying as they stretched the fabric of the spandex.  Her breasts bobbed and wobbled with each step, her cleavage spilling out of the teeshirt.  As she entered the room, she found Andrew was not alone.  The barrels of the gun were once again inches away from Andrew’s face, but now they were being held by a third party, a buxom, beautiful, and exotic third party, dressed in a tight and ill-fitting lab coat.  

“You must be Agent Smith,” said Melody in a soft, sultry voice.