Not Like This!
Heart pounding with excitement, Kiley slid the box hidden far under her bed. She licked her lips in anticipation. It had only been a few days, but already she felt so deprived.
Kiley was a bit plain compared to other women out there, kept her hair short and boyish, and didn’t aspire to any greater appearances. She had no desire to try to catch the attention of one of the few guys in town, all the hassle seemed like too much for too little return. This was much better at pleasing her.
She opened the worn box, each fold bent and ground. Inside, a thoroughly used machine sat. It was small, about the size of a shoebox, a large vent on one end, a nozzle on top, and a long long long cord ending on a small pad with a few buttons. And with it, a collection of hollow dildos, ribbed, ringed, curved, soft, firm. Biting her lip, she pulled her biggest one out and slid it over the nozzle.
Kiley stripped, exposing her lithe body to the cool air. Pulling out a small bottle, she lubed up the dildo on top of her little pump. Then, she pulled out her laptop.
This was perhaps one of the things that could actually confuse some of her friends. Everyone knows popping feels great. Growing tighter and tighter to an orgasmic climax is a story every girl grew up with. But Kiley looked forward to it more than anyone she knew. So much, she grew moist hearing about popped friends and family, of seeing it in the news, in film and in books. Even as she browsed, her loins grew wetter and hotter.
Finally, she pulled out a playlist. A huge collection of bursts caught on camera.
Playing it, she warmed up a bit before, before squatting over and sliding onto the dildo.
And picking up the pad on the wire, she pushed “Start.” She clenched it tight, as the pump whirred to life, sucking in air and then pumping it up through the dildo into her waiting body.
She bit her lip as the familiar feeling of bloat swelled her stomach.
Videos of women flashed by across her screen, riling her up more and more, strippers biting off more than they could chew and blowing apart on cell phone cams, girlfriends and wives blowing apart for popping fetishist guys, ballooned advertising girls popping from too much pressure, birthday, new year, wedding, celebrations.
As her stomach bloated outwards into a gravid ball off her slim torso she watched and thrust up and down. Each moment, the audible strain before a deafening bang, another wave of fresh arousal. She turned up the pump faster.
She swelled bigger and bigger, her tiny curves growing to feminine prominence around her bloated core. She clenched the controller tighter, as she felt air begin to fill out her limbs.
More women burst apart on her screen, as she shuddered in her first orgasm.
It became hard to bend anymore and so she just sat on top of the dildo, slowly rounding out above it. She gradually slid down as her torso rounded out more and more. Eyes half lidded, drunk with pleasure, only the constant bangs kept her aware.
Soon, she sat, totally round upon the dildo pumping her fuller and fuller.
She neared her limit, she knew this. Her body ached with pleasure, her pussy hot and tender from orgasm after orgasm. Still holding the remote, she reluctantly turned the air pressure down. Slowing her inflation.
But then. A video she hadn’t seen before came on. And she froze.
It was from the perspective of a webcam. Showing a helpless young woman flapping her hands, already spherically round. Strain and flushed panic on her face.
Kiley watched enraptured, her loins flared again.
The camgirl began to pulse and creak. Kiley imagined being in her place, having showed everyone her inflation.
The girl moaned and shook her head side to side. Kiley thought about people watching, commenting on her performance. Telling her to keep going- tighter and tighter.
Then, the girl’s eyes shot open. Kiley held her breath.
And the camgirl blew apart, knocking back the camera.
Kiley imagined the same- blowing apart- for everyone to see. And the thought shook her in a deep, hard, orgasm. She felt herself go numb- tingly. Rigid.
A clatter got her attention.
She had dropped the remote.
“Crap!” She yelled out.
She frantically waved her hands. She had dropped the remote, and her now spherical body was held in place by nearly a foot of dildo still relentlessly pumping into her hollow body.
And then- a tightness. One she never personally experienced.
She felt her body tense- then relax.
This was her limit.
Her heart raced, this was it. She was going to pop.
She didn’t know what to think. For a few moments she couldn’t. She just felt her body tense and swell, fighting against her limits, finding more room for more air.
Isn’t this what she wanted? She thought to herself.
Countless times she imagined her pop. For a friend, for a party, by some pervert on the street.
It was never supposed to be this…unceremonious.
She quivered with pressure. But even as she longed for more time- the pleasure began to overtake her. Creaking and groaning, she shivered as another orgasm took place.
Rolling her eyes back, she savoured each second she had.
Before she blew apart with a deafening-
Leaving her battery pump still humming. As peach scraps fluttered around her bedroom.
Kiley joined the near endless list of women popped nearly every day by private inflation. There wasn’t any investigation, beyond checking her laptop and that there wasn’t any signs of forced entry. Most of her stuff remained in her apartment. Was the custom. Some new woman would get her possessions. Until she popped of course.