“I’m only going to do this once. So you’d better enjoy it while you can.” I say as I cautiously eye the air pump in my partners, John, hands. He jumps up estatically from the couch and begins to unravel the thick hose from it’s coil.
“You can’t imagine how happy you’re making me by trying this,” John explains, “I promise, it’s not as bad as you think it’s going to be. And you’ll finish harder than you ever thought possible.”
“I don’t see how that’s going to happen with a garden hose sized…hose shoved up inside me.” My face contorts at the thought of it’s imminent invasion. “What the hell is the purpose of that pump anyway? It looks…a little menacing.”
John looks down at the pump and then back at me. The look he gives me is clearly one of unknowing the true function. He shrugs “I think it’s an auto-pump for bikes?…or car tires?”. He continues to prep the pump and hose, at this point he’s applying a heavy amount of lube to the end of the tube and my heart begins to beat much harder and faster than before.
“That doesn’t help me feel better! I’m not a tire! What if it makes me…?” I trail off. “Pop?” John finishes. “Well yeah. I’m pretty fucking nervous about being blown up like a balloon and you seem all too excited to do it to me. Have you done any research on this? How much can a stomach hold, on average? What are the long term consequences of this?” John takes a few steps toward me and places a hand on my cheek.
“Do you trust me?” He asks me.
“Most of the time.” I respond.
John starts to turn me around, “You only need to do two things. Say the safeword if your belly starts to hurt. And let me enjoy you. I promise things will be fine.” I allow him to finish turning me around and place my hands on the table in front of me. They start shaking the second I put my weight on them as I slowly tilt my ass towards John. I try to steady my breathing as I feel him pull my pants down to my ankles. “We’re just going to go ahead and get rid of these. They won’t do you any good soon anyways.” I can almost hear the wink in Johns words. “Alright, here we go. Just think of it as me, yeah?”
I feel the nozzle prod my rear. It leaves some lube behind as John takes another slow run. I feel it enter me this time. The nozzle parts me and with small effort glides into my bowels. The hose feels so much thicker than it looked but it’s not too hard to take in. John leans away and turns me back towards him, “Was that so bad?”
“That wasn’t exactly the scary part John.” I say to him. John chuckles and reaches behind me and produces a second hose with a bulb attached to the end. “Uh, what is that?” I ask.
“It’s for the inflatable piece on the end of the hose so it doesn’t slip out of you.” He explains.
“Oh sure, wouldn’t want that to happen.” My voice drips with sarcasm as he pumps up the bulb inside me.
“I don’t think you’re as upset about this as you let on.” John points down at me and I realize my cock is at full mast. “Um…I-It’s just the stupid hose.”
John rolls his eyes at me and returns to the pump. He grabs the plug for it and looks back at me. I feel ridiculous looking back at him. I’m standing in the middle of the living room in a t-shirt and no pants, a raging hard-on, and a thick hose running up into me. “Could we just get this over with please?” I ask.
“If you’re ready?” John asks me. “Is there anything else I could do to make you comfortable?”
“Look, I know this is your fetish and everything. I just don’t think I’m going to like doing this. I’m all nervous. I’m worried about…everything about this process. I’m not in control at all.” I explain.
“Says the guy that likes to be tied up in bed?” John looks at me, almost incredulously.
A thought crosses my mind. “Maybe that’s what this needs! What both of us would want versus just one? Would you be okay with that?” I ask him. A wide grin creeps across Johns face. Wordlessly he disappears into the bedroom and quickly reappears with a familiar rope. “Have it your way.” He says. John pulls me and the ridiculous amount of equipment attached to me into the bedroom. In this room there’s a hook affixed into the ceiling which John and I had installed for other recreational activities. He thread the rope over the hook and positions me beneath it.
After a few moments I am in the same state as I was in the living room only now my arms are tied above my head. Somehow, I almost feel comforted by the ropes presence. John sits down on the bed and once again holds the plug for the pump in his hands. He looks up at me, stuck standing, and runs his hand along my stomach and sides. “Ready?” He asks. I nod.
The pump whirls to life and within a second I feel the air run into me. I take a moment to get used to the sensation of the pump making room. I realize I’ve left my shirt on. “Oh, wait John! My shirt!”
“Oh, that was intentional. I want to see you grow out of it.” He says, eyes glued to my swelling stomach.
“Surely I can’t get that big?” I inquire.
“You’d be surprised.” John answers. His hands reach out to my stomach and explore it’s increasing surface. I don’t imagine I’m very big yet but I do feel my shirt begin to tighten around my circumference. “Oh!” John yelps. He gets up from the bed and picks up the standing mirror from the corner of the room. He moves it to the wall facing the side of me and I now have a very clear picture of what the pump is doing to me.
I’m bigger than I thought.
I’d guess I am more than a foot in width from back to belly button. The hem of my shirt is clearly smoothing out across my ballooning surface. John stands to the side of me, opposite of the mirror. His hands caress my belly and it continues to fill.
“Alright so, is this good enough?” I ask him. He doesn’t respond. “John?!” He snaps his head up to me. “Is. this. big. enough?” I ask again.
“No, of course not.” He replies like I’ve asked the dumbest question on the face of the planet.
I turn back to the mirror. “John look at me. I’m big enough, don’t you think?”
“Oh, I’m looking and I can say without a doubt that you can take more.” He presses in on my stomach and I feel that there’s at least some room left. I really hope that he knows what he’s doing. Seconds later I can feel tiny pops inside me. John explains these are just my guts making room that they’ve never needed before. I look over to the mirror again.
I look pregnant.
I feel pregnant.
I am bigger that most pregnant women would ever want to be.
My shirts hem is as stretched as it can get across me and I feel it ride up my stomach at an alarming rate. My heart is racing. Just before the edge passes my belly button I feel an intense pressure and it pops out to catch it. It barely holds a second before the hem skips off it and continues up my belly.
“Chocolate.” I say. “I’m more than full. You’ve enjoyed me. My belly is starting to hurt. Chocolate.”
John stops rubbing my stomach and looks up at me. He nods and proceeds to turn off the pump. I immediately feel how blown up I am. It’s a hollow and aching feeling. John disappears behind me and I hear him rummage through things behind me. The noise stops after a time.
I feel something pass over my head and a ball gag is swiftly inserted into my mouth. I scream and thrash with futility against it. John reappears to my front.
“Sorry, did you say the safe word?” John doesn’t look right.
“Can you repeat what you said for me?” He pauses.
“No? I guess you’re okay with me continuing right?” My eyes are wide looking at him and I violently shake my head ‘No’.
“Well, if you’re sure.” He approaches the pump. I am thrashing, and kicking, and making all the noise I possibly can without bursting my overblown stomach. He’s facing away from me when I feel the pump kick on again. The aching and pain returns instantly and I feel my shirt resume it’s journey.
John turns back to me. “You see, cutie. If I could have it my way, you’d never be big enough. You’d swell and expand until the pump broke. But it never works that way. No. All the boys I’ve blown up over the years reach their limit far too soon.” He closes the distance between us and places his hands on my gravidity. “And I’d say, from these stretch marks on the underside of your tummy, you’ve just about hit yours.”
Through tears streaming down my face I look at myself in the mirror again. I’m almost inhuman. There’s not quite a beachball where there shouldn’t be one. And sure enough there's dark red stretch marks starting to follow the same journey my shirt had.
“I hope you don’t mind if I…uh” I can see he has started to masturbate to my form.
I feel weak. Lightheaded. My legs are starting to give out and my arms are shaking from being above my head for so long. My breathing labors and I feel my knees starting to bend. My back hurts, my sides hurt, fuck, my stomach hurts.
I can feel it. It starts as an intense itching that builds quickly into pain. I can see John getting more and more excited. John’s sounds, the pump sounds, all sounds, are drowned by a ringing in my ears. I am no longer holding myself up with my legs, only dangling by my tied up arms…I really made this easy for him. My vision dims and I see the marks creep across the top side of my inflated belly. I feel something warm hit my stomach a few times as I finish closing my eyes.
And then, there is nothing but relief.