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Lesson 2

The first semester was coming to an end for the “second-years.” The Institute of Inflation had already had one third of its students drop out – and had lost a few others to “accidents.” Those students who remained had all had their shots, the injected bacterial nano-surgery creating all the necessary channels within them to ensure a successful inflation of any type or body-part. A bright future in the new, inflation industry awaited them. But there was another year of school – and that was if they could get through the next semester.

They’d learned about all the dynamics and mechanics of inflation from simple to complex. Practical applications had also investigated: the stretch and containment-abilities of various surfaces including skin and organs obtained from the local abattoir. While not living flesh, it had helped to forcefully demonstrate the stretch-ability and point-of-maximum-stretch, as well as the warning signs, dynamics and mechanics of bursting. Those lessons were used defensively so the students would know the indications that would show that an inflated volume was reaching – and going beyond – maximum pressure tolerance. They knew what to expect when they heard the command “EARS,” which meant that they should either use their ear-guards or at least cover their ears against the coming blast.

Mr. Caterwaul, Professor of Inflation, opened the textbook on the desk before him. His class room in the vintage, early-last-century school building that the Institute had purchased was large and square with very high ceilings. A row of three, very-large, sashed windows ran the wall on his right. The windows were old, and the sashes didn’t work well, their counterweights always getting stuck in the old, warped channels. It was always a task to open them.

He looked up at the class. The students, as at any school, attended with various levels of engagement. “I’m sure you’ve all read, and practiced Chapter 5: Reciprocal, Deflected and Reflux inflation?”

He was sure they did not. At least not practiced. But that was OK, they’d practice here. The cat purred.

“We’ll have a practical demonstration today. I’ll need one of you to volunteer to assist me.” The students hung back. They were many times reluctant to volunteer – never sure of the outcome. Then, that hot, arrogant, sleek, Great Dane in the back raised his big paw. Mr. Caterwaul was pleased – he’d had his eye on this troublemaker for some time. His smartly clipped ears and rather violent pugged-face topped a popping-muscular body: thick neck, shoulders, pecs, arms, all tapering to a tight, slick, racing-quality stomach. His formidable equipment bulging through his jeans nestled between big thighs with that wonderful bobbed tail perking out the back between his hot glutes atop solid quads and thick calves. “Why was it,” Caterwaul asked himself metaphorically, “that the bad-boys were always the hottest?”

But he was also surprised. The Dane, as trouble-maker, was always being disruptive. Not a great student, he constantly tried to get around the class requirements, didn’t do the homework and was always baiting Caterwaul. The cat was wary. “Yes, Mr. Growe,” he said to the Dane, “I’m pleased you’re showing some interest – finally,” he added sarcastically. “You may assist, come to the front.” “This – especially this lesson,” thought the cat, “would be fun with Mr. Growe.”

“All right,” said Caterwaul addressing the class. “The first part of our demonstration will be of ‘Reciprocal Inflation.’ Mr. Growe will be the primary recipient of the inflation, and he, in turn will inflate me.”

Caterwaul undressed and dropped his pants to reveal special “inflation briefs” supplied by the school. They allowed certain modesty when dealing with intimate parts. One student, a sprightly Corgi, who was today’s “Inflation Command,” the student in charge of all the inflation equipment , applied the “Safety Patches” onto the cat. One was applied to the cat’s stomach, as the primary area of inflation, and one to his back. The Corgi, being a bit short-in-the-legs, had a bit of a stretch applying the one on the back and Caterwaul had to stoop a bit for its application. The safety patches sent electronic signals to an attendant machine which, for safety’s sake, monitored pressure and stretch.

Properly prepped, the cat went to a padded gurney and lied down on his back. Normally he might have assumed “the position,’” doggy-style, on his front, but he wanted to see – both the class – so he could lecture and point out details - as well as this hot Dane about to plow and pump him up.

Meanwhile Growe removed his clothes so as not to impede the inflation, displaying hot shoulders and abs. His pecs and nipples drew sighs from the girls in the room. He worked out – and it was beautifully obvious. He also had the inflation briefs, and the Corgi applied the safety patches to him to – onto the Dane’s packed abs and back.

Caterwaul commanded, “All right, Mr. Growe, hook yourself up,” Growe, from his experience at the Institute, easily inserted the nozzle through his back slit, pushing it up and into his butthole. Once installed, he nodded to Caterwaul. Caterwaul called, “pressure.” The Corgi turned the stopcock. Gas hissed through the hose and into the Dane. “Pressure’s up,” the student announced. The Dane’s stomach started to bump out. The pressure and sensation also started to give him a woody, which was normal as the pressure increased inside the inflatee’s lowers. The Dane’s package started to push the front of the briefs, stressing the slit in the front.

Caterwaul was almost salivating at the next part, but he calmed his breath and professionalized his voice tone, “Ok, Mr. Growe, insert…”

The Dane came up to Caterwaul on the gurney, his stomach swelling larger as he moved. Caterwaul, to make things easier, positioned his legs, thighs up the Dane’s torso, propping his calves against the Danes’ swelling pecs. That move aroused the cat. The front of his briefs started to bulge.

Growe, with a bit of difficulty, released his big, growing erection from the front slit and inserted it into the back slit of Caterwaul’s briefs. Normally well-hung, the pump had also rapidly inflated him to extremely impressive. He positioned his large, growing pole through Caterwaul’s back slit and at his back-door. With a small thrust he pushed it into Caterwaul. “Mmmmmm,” sighed Caterwaul, pleasurably, unable to contain the exclamation. Caterwaul was experienced at this penetration – in more ways than one - so there was no pain even from having to accommodate Growe’s large size. “Make sure, Mr. Growe, that you’re in as far as you can go,” becoming more serious in his tone, even as his mind was exulting, and repressing another purr, “and don’t start the ‘Reciprocal’ until I tell you.”

Caterwaul, always professional, addressed the class – primarily the females. “Women can perform this operation, also, but, of course, they have to have the necessary prosthesis.” “Males,” he thought with a mental purr, “come with the necessary equipment.”

Growe was inflating bigger and bigger: big ball stomach. He was also taking a hit in his muscles due to the relocation of the pressure by the canals. They started bulging even more than normal, popping veins. Caterwaul admired the effect.

Though plugged, Caterwaul remained at his normal, slightly inflated, size - normal for a toy rubber cat. Growe’s inflating stomach started to push the cat’s legs backwards, stretching the cat’s hamstrings. Becoming uncomfortable, Caterwaul allowed his legs to slide down the ball, reveling in the feel of the tightening stomach on his thighs as they slid down either side - coming to rest, knees over the edge of the gurney and under Growe’s bulge that continued to expand out over them.

“Now ‘Reciprocal,’” He commanded to Growe, “open your sphincter to the penile channel.” Then almost as an aside, “You have been doing your kegels and other exercises to strengthen those muscles, Mr. Growe, as you’ve managed to overdevelop all the other muscles on your body? They’re important and very necessary to help control inflation.”

There was a whisper of laughter at Caterwaul’s jibe.

Growe didn’t answer, but just smiled his cocky smile and, adjusted his lower stomach. Relaxing his sphincter he opened his cock-channel. Air hissed through his, by now, enormous erection into the cat. The dog gave a low, involuntary moan – it was a pleasurable sensation – and Caterwaul started to inflate, his lower stomach, then his upper stomach, starting to bulge.

“Excellent, Mr. Growe,” Caterwaul again repressed the sigh that was behind the statement. Good Gahd, but it felt great to have this hot Dane filling him!

“See, class,” he returned to his professional, teaching voice, “Growe, by opening his sphincter – that has been altered and augmented by the shots - can channel his inflation into me: Reciprocal Inflation!”

“What can it be used for?” Caterwaul snapped at the class, the ‘teacher’ in him returning to the fore.

“Inflating two from one hose,” said a perky Pomeranian bitch in the front row.

“Efficiencies of inflation – especially under time-pressure” returned an Abyssinian, the accent in her voice as exotic as she was.

“Intimate relations,” blushed a male Dalmatian in the back.

“Intimate relations: yes – a non-economic use, but highly pleasurable - especially if both parties can reciprocate – the ‘breathe-back-and-forth’ asana - each person alternately inflating the other,”

He turned back to address the dog at his butt, “Mr. Growe, you’re doing well!” breathed the cat in obvious appreciation.

As the class watched, Growe started to deflate a bit as Caterwaul started to swell more rapidly.

The cat noticed this, becoming annoyed, this was not part of “Reciprocal Inflation.” ‘”Excellent, Mr. Growe,” the cat spoke with pique in his voice, “Class, even though I didn’t tell him to, Mr. Growe is actually now performing ‘Deflected inflation’ – part two of our lesson - deflecting his inflation into me.”

“He no longer inflates as all the pressure that goes into him is deflected to me –” Caterwaul also noticed that the Dane was deflating, his original expansion going into Caterwaul along with that coming from the hose. The Cat started to inflate very fast. “Mr. Growe seems to be rather expert at deflecting. So much so,” said the cat, becoming even more wary, “that he’s even able to deflect even his original pump into me – see how he’s deflating as I inflate? An excellent example of ‘deflected inflation’ Very good Mr. Growe,” Very Good, thought the ecstatic cat – he was in heaven watching, over his rapidly expanding stomach, the big, heaving, hot, muscular Dane filling him.

To Caterwaul’s surprise, Growe gave another rather nasty, cocky smile in answer to Caterwaul’s praise, right over his ballooning stomach and into his face, “Bet’cher fuckin’ life it’s good, Caterwaul. Let’s jus’ see how much you can take – turn up the pump!” he commanded to the Corgi, “– we’re gonna make you BBBIIIIIIIIGG, Caterwaul!”

No one moved, not sure what was going on. Was this something bizarre Caterwaul had arranged – that sort of thing was not unknown – or was this something originated in the rather dark, egoistic, disturbed brain of Growe.

“I said turn it up!” he snarled menacingly at the Corgi, who jumped at the violence in Growe’s voice and promptly turned the gas valve to high. Caterwaul’s stomach, inflated through the dog, started to swell faster, his arms and legs starting to expand, also.

Caterwaul, though loving the intensity of inflating, couldn’t lose control of the class by letting the Dane get the upper hand. “Turn it off.” He calmly directed at the Corgi. The Corgi, obviously confused, put his paw up to the valve.

Growe gave a really mean snarl, ears back, fangs showing, nose scrunched, “Y’touch that and you’ll be dog-shreds after class!” he barked. The Corgi whimpered, frozen, not sure what to do.

“This is highly irregular, Mr. Growe…” Caterwaul turned his head back to face the Dane, “…and can be very dangerous.” The happy cat had to work hard to keep the purr out of his voice, he was being so pleasingly plowed and plumped.

“Shut up, Caterwaul – and swell – ­ – swell till yah can’t swell no more!” and the Dane gave a really nasty, sadistic smile. With a grimace, he opened his sphincter even wider and directed an even a larger gas flow into the cat.

The cat noticed that Growe was sweating from the exertion of deflecting. He also noticed that it just made the Dane look hotter. It takes intense concentration to deflect correctly. Growe had, for a student, mastered it very well – probably with this episode in mind.

“That’s Mr. Caterwaul to you,” said the cat, countering Growe and swelling faster, his eyes losing contact with Growe’s due to the rising horizon of his blimping stomach, “and it’s not a good idea, Mr. Growe – NOT a good idea at all – to try and usurp my direction.”

Growe got really nasty, standing on tip-toes to look over the swelling bulge of the Cat, the move levering his stone-shaft into the cat even more. Caterwaul gave an involuntary purr – but he was turning into a big orange cat-ball-balloon on the gurney.

“I’m tired of your fuckin’ mincing, pansy-lip, holier-inflation-than-thou attitude, Caterwaul, – I’m gonna put an end to that…” More and more of the gas poured through Growe into Caterwaul. The cat was becoming huge. “…gonna – make - you - POP!” ended the Dane, smiling meanly. The class gasped, almost in unison.

The students respected Caterwaul for his huge knowledge of inflation, but his personality could sometimes be irritating, arrogant in his great knowledge of inflation and techniques. Like all great teachers, he was exacting and accurate – and demanded that from his students. This was especially important for this school – where a small slip could mean the difference between a simple stretch and explosion.

“Mr. Growe,” Caterwaul became severe, his voice cold as he addressed the eyes and top of the Dane’s head which had almost disappeared behind the horizon of his swelling stomach, “we instructors at the Institute of Inflation have had much experience at all forms of inflation. By usurping my authority you place yourself in jeopardy – you place the safety of this class – and my safety - in jeopardy. By the rules that govern this school that’s totally unacceptable. In your threat to make me pop, you’re also violating the law. You will not be allowed to remain at the institute – and.,” he paused for effect, “the institute will have to take criminal action.”

“Y’don’t have a lot to say about it, Caterwaul.” The cocky Dane smiled his crooked smile, “Nobody here’s…” he slightly turned his head towards the class throwing his thumb over his big shoulder to indicate the class, “…gonna squeal on me.”

For effect, and to underscore his words, he thrust harder into Caterwaul. He meant the thrust as a threat, but it only delighted Caterwaul.

The sweating Dane continued, “Half, like me, can’t stand you – and the others…” and he partially turned to them, speaking louder so they could hear, ears flattening, nose scrunching to reveal some fang, his erection levering into the cat, “…won’t say a word if they appreciate being all in one piece.”

He turned back to the cat, the Cat’s face totally hidden behind the balloon-stomach. All he could see was the large orange sphere in front of him. Taller than him it was so large it pressed up against his abs, so tight it was reflecting window-shapes from the windows in the wall. “This little romp will just be put down to an accident due to my inexperience…” he gave another wicked, cocky smile. “Gonna blow, Caterwaul… ‘o yeah!…” and he grunted into a series of thrusts, pressing his torso into the cat’s bubble, each pump visibly plumping and shuddering the mammoth stomach of the cat, “…YER GONNA BLOW!”

The safety monitor over by the Corgi and the Inflation equipment started a low, slow “dinging” as a small lightbulb at the top started an equally quiet flashing. The equipment was set to ding once the monitored surface started to become too stretched and pressurized. It was a warning not to inflate the item larger – that there could be negative consequences.

The class heard it. Some gasped, and some whimpered, not sure what to do.

Caterwaul was really getting off on being hyper-pumped by this hot Dane. He would have loved for the Dane to complete his threat – would have loved being pumped-to-pop by him. But that would cause difficulties for him – and for the Institute. And then there was the Director. His popping would cause consternation for the Director – both professional, and personal.

Caterwaul thought he could bide his time, and enjoy the sensations up to “almost-pop,” but, as the monitor indicated, its dinging becoming faster as Caterwaul tightened, he was approaching being too full and the almost-pop could become the real thing. He would have to end this charade.

There was, however, another thing that excited him almost as much as being pumped-to-pop by this dog. This bizarre episode was creating an opportunity for to manifest that excitement –

But first he had to concentrate, focus. Enough is enough, he thought, time to teach this pup a lesson.

Suddenly, Caterwaul grimaced and tightened his sphincter.

He stopped swelling.

Growe was startled; ‘Wha!?’ as he felt the Deflection suddenly stop, his dick-tube feeling like it was corked or stoppered.

Then – he started swelling. The gas from the hose was backing up behind his plugged cock, starting to fill him.

“Observe, class,” said Caterwaul, still lying on his back, his huge stomach now being crowded by Growe’s inflating gut. His stomach blocked his view of most of the students, “– what ‘s happening now – what I’m doing - is a defensive move. You were not to learn about this until the next chapter – a chapter of self-defensive moves. It’s called ‘Abrupted Inflation.’”

“It’s unusual – not often needing to be used, but it’s a defense mechanism should an adversary turn either Deflected or Reflux inflation against you.” As Caterwaul spoke, no longer inflating, Growe was swelling larger and larger. The Dane tried to readjust his hardon – get it back to deflecting the inflation into the cat. He rotated his hips, trying to reengage the necessary muscles. The cat felt that intense, pleasurable sensation and it almost made him lose his concentration.

Growe thought he could stop the Reflux Inflation if he could disconnect from the cat – pull his cock out. Once out he could practice funneling and deflate himself. He tried to pull out of Caterwaul, but the cat still had him gripped too hard, Growe had thought that with Reflux, the grip would have had to be somewhat released, but it wasn’t.

Caterwaul noticed what Growe was trying to do. “Growe – if you ever should develop your abilities, you’d realize that there are many ways to both trap and constrain, while releasing – just takes experience.” “Which unfortunately you won’t be able to have…” thought the cat, excitedly.

It was becoming difficult for Growe to maneuver as his swelling stomach was getting in the way. It was swelling out, pushing into Caterwaul’s huge bulge, the two balloon stomachs fighting for space. His rotating and muscle-reengagement was also erotic against his own swelling penis, and he started to feel very aroused.

Mentally recollecting himself, Caterwaul continued, “So as not to have to use the unwieldly moniker ‘Abrupted Inflation,’ it’s commonly called ‘the Cork’…” Caterwaul managed to seem oblivious to the Dane’s increasing balloon-gut swelling into him as well as his own mounting excitement.

“…by using my sphincter muscles – again, you all have all been doing your Kegels, right? To strengthen your sphincters?” he said as an aside. “So, by using my Sphincter, I’ve successfully clamped down on Mr. Growe’s penis-nozzle, stopping the air from moving into me. Currently, as you can see, the inflation from the hose is only inflating him.”

As Growe’s stomach inflated into the cat’s the pressure and leverage against Growe’s cock was becoming intense, painful. Growe realized that he could stop the pain, as well as deflate himself if he pulled out. He tried, but found that the cat’s clamp had also trapped his cock inside.

“Mr. Growe,” said the cat, addressing the dog in a low voice that only he could hear. Still not able to see the dog for the bulging stomachs between them, the voice came to the dog as if coming from those stomachs: “that will be useless. Your cock has bloated so large, that it takes only a small bit of effort from me to trap you inside me. You can’t escape.”

“ugh…wow…fuck,” said Growe, shaking his head making sweat went flying to either side. He was starting to feel uncomfortable, becoming bigger than he’d ever grown in practice. Then, knowing that Caterwaul was now getting the upper hand, “Hey Mr. Caterwaul, no hard feelings, hunh? I was just shittin’ yah – that poppin’ shit - just horsin’ around, y’know?…”

Liar, thought Caterwaul. Big liar – and, smiling to himself, he’s going to be an even BIGGER liar.

“…ugh – so, hey, can we turn off that gas?” groaned the Dane, continuing, “never had any practice at being this big yet…” Growe was sweating. The balloon of his stomach was huge and growing. The pressure had again started to creep through his channels and shunts to bulk up the muscles in his arms, legs and chest, which, as he panted, was heaving from the exertion. “…feels like I’m TOO big.”

“Not TOO big.” Said Caterwaul, “Class – English lesson,” switching gears, Caterwaul looked around the sides of his gut and addressed the class, ‘”too’ is an adverb which represents a superabundance or overabundance – beyond maximum. Right now Mr. Growe is, I would say almost at maximum. Anything more would be ‘too’ – too much, too inflated.”

As an aside, he did direct the Corgi, “As Mr. Growe says he is uncomfortable, close the gas.” The Corgi closed the valve and the Dane stopped swelling. Growe gave a partial sigh. He was still uncomfortably huge, bigger and more stretched than he’d ever been, but surprisingly the monitor hadn’t started its warning dinging.

This “English lesson” was exactly the sort of Caterwaul-thing that that drove the students crazy. He could be such an arrogant ass.

The class looked on. Caterwaul’s huge gut-inflation and Growe’s gigantic stomach were pushed up against each other. They looked like dueling weather balloons – one bright orange latex, the other sparce-fur covered skin-pink; both tight and shining in the light. The pressure, each mashing into the other, distorted both of them, pushing their guts up into their faces, out from their sides. Caterwaul loved it, his cock caught between the bulges, Growe’s overinflated stump rammed up Caterwaul’s ass massaging his prostate.

“Now,” Said Caterwaul, catching his breath and switching gears yet again, “away from an English lesson and back to basics. As part of the next chapter you’ll also learn ‘Refluxive Inflation,’ another defensive asana.”

Suddenly, Caterwaul’s stomach hardened – you could see his stretched latex abs bulking. As his stomach hardened, it compressed. He started to deflate. This move pushed the over-aroused cat closer to orgasm, but he gritted his teeth and controlled the feeling. He continued pushing the air out of him – the inflation reverting back up through Growe’s cock and into him. Growe started to inflate, again, even faster than he had with the hose.

“Yow! Doc – stop that, I’m… I’m… getting too big.” He was. From Caterwaul’s viewpoint he saw a huge shining stomach ball cantilevered, expanding up, growing out over his own deflating stomach; that one growing, his shrinking. Over the top of the gut-ball he could just see, first the tops of Growe’s pumped pecs, nipples poking up, and behind them the top of Growe’s face, sweating, tight-eyed from the intensity of the pressure in his inflating gut-balloon, his bobbed-ears totally up and forward, tense. The growing ball in front of Caterwaul’s eyes was punctuated by the big indent of the dog’s belly-button. It’s still an ‘innie’ thought Caterwaul. He’s not at max. Yet. We’ll fix that.

“Yes, Mr. Growe,” said Caterwaul, “I also think that you are ‘getting’ ‘too’ big - and good use of the adverb with the present participle of ‘get.’”

Then again, maddeningly, “Class, you can be ‘getting too big’ - to be ‘too big would imply imminent explosion. And as if in illustration Caterwaul started to contract his stomach harder. It collapsed rapidly pushing his gas into Growe whose stomach expanded at the same rate as the cats deflated. Growe was becoming increasingly tighter, bigger. “Mr. Growe IS getting TOO big…”

Suddenly Growe’s inflation briefs, no longer able to take the strain, gave way, ripping out the side seams and destroying the fly. They fell to the floor.

At the same moment, the safety monitor for Growe started a low dinging, underscoring his brief’s destruction and indicating that Growe had maxed. The cat’s monitor had stopped during his Reflux as he dropped pressure.

“…and,” said Caterwaul, purring at the timing, “your destroyed briefs and our safety equipment concur.” “It’s about time!” Thought Caterwaul.

Caterwaul looked aside to the right and saw the dim shape of Growe reflected in the glass doors of a display cabinet at the window-side wall of the classroom. Lit from the windows he saw a reflected Growe, back arched, big muscle-inflated shoulders, inflated back, inflated butt, big inflated pecs – high and panting. His quads and bis were the size of exercise balls. All that inflated muscle-mass looked trapped by the strain and huge bloat of the gigantic ball swelling out in front of him.

Growe was fighting the pressure. His inflated limbs were straining to contain it – all his huge muscles were totally over-pumped, fighting the stretch. He tightened, compressed. But the only thing that did was force more volume into his already overstretched, hyper-sized gut-ball.

Caterwaul brought his gaze back from the reflection. He lifted his hand and excitedly gave the tight, stretched surface above him an appreciative, hard slap-pat. He noticed that Growe was so tight there was no ‘give’ to the stretched surface, and the slap made a “thummmmp” that, like from a drum, boomed through the classroom. He also noticed, as he continued to Reflux, that the monitor’s bell and light were pulsing more rapidly.

“Good Gahd!” Thought the cat, “That dog’s holding a huge amount of pressure!” Caterwaul was truly surprised that the dog hadn’t burst long before this, that the monitor hadn’t started much earlier, that it hadn’t started its throbbing wail that indicated that an explosion was imminent. The dog’s youth, muscle and healthy, tensile skin must have allowed him to hyper-pressure, he was holding much more than an average animal. “Fuck,” thought the cat, “he’s as big as a barn!” “This will be GRAND!” trilled the cat, “Just GRAND!”

Growe noticed the pat and the reverberation, too. He grunted, again hedging, “Doc –Doc – y’know I was just joking, right?” He knew was reaching his stretch-limit, the monitor dinging faster, confirmed it. “So… stop the ‘Reflux’ or whatever y’call it. You can deflate - I can deflate - We’ll both be fine.”

It was no longer the cat’s gut that obstructed his view of Growe. It was Growe’s. He moved his elbows back to prop himself up, lifting his torso and head so he could just see the dog’s eyes over the top of his rapidly expanding gut-horizon. The move pushed his erection up into the expanding surface of Growe’s bubble. It was pressed back under the bulge of Growe – like he was fucking himself between Growe’s bubble and his own. The cat was in heaven.

He caught his breath at the pleasure and then stared coldly at the distressed dog. “You were going to continue the high-pressure deflection – until - I - popped. You said it.” He specially enunciated each word. “You were going to burst me.” Said Caterwaul, bluntly, his gut now half deflated from the ‘Reflux.’ his inflation pressured into Growe.

“Doc!, Doc - Just a joke, like I said,” the dog tried a very strained smile, still cocky a bit – Caterwaul could see the smile in Growe’s eyes, the only part of the dog’s face that he could still see. It was actually rather hot, thought Caterwaul – especially mounted on the huge balloon that his body had become.

“Class!?” interrupted Caterwaul. “Who of you heard Mr. Growe say that he was going to – that the intended to – pop me? –– You don’t have to worry, Mr. Growe is so tight he can’t turn his head to see you…,” he reassured.

The hands of the students went up, some reluctantly. Caterwaul, on the Gurney, could only partially see them, his vision blocked by the gigantic, swelling ball in front of him.

“You see Mr. Growe – the students heard your threat, your intention. I have witnesses.”

“I’ll take care of them later,” thought the Dane his face maroon with anger. Caterwaul saw that coloring – could almost read his thoughts. He whispered to the over-pumped dog, quite pleased, “Growe, what makes you think there will be a ‘later?’”

The dog started, involuntarily responded “– like I said, a joke.” The Dane repeated, but he could no longer see Caterwaul’s eyes. His stomach inflated to block them,

The cat, now almost emptied, was finding it increasingly difficult to continue pushing his gas into Growe. The building pressure inside the dog as well as his muscle’s and skin’s strength combined created a re-push against the cat’s reflux. It took a huge amount of concentration and muscle compression on Caterwaul’s part to continue forcing his remaining gas from him and into Growe. Caterwaul was truly impressed at the volume that the Dane was able to contain. “Good Gahd!” admired the cat, “not only was he holding his original huge volume, he’s taken in most of his – and the cat, himself, had come up to his dinging-maximum.”

Still, with intense concentration, sweating the cat continued the very slow reflux, the big Dane’s skin continuing its swell and stretch. Suddenly, the cat watching, his belly button went flat, the pressure pushing it level with the bulge. The cat, sweating and concentrating, continued forcing the Reflux. With a hissing noise, then a little “thop!” Growe’s navel popped out, becoming a small domed, mound on the huge round inflation of his stomach. That domed navel seemed only inches from Caterwaul’s face.

The continuous tone from the machine now erupted into a strident siren pulse, strident, the light at top started strobing, indicating that the pressure-Vs-stretch of the inflating item was critical, past retention: Explosion Imminent.

Growe was HUGE – more than HUGE. The strobe-flashes illuminated his gigantic volumes, each flash shattering off his tight skin. The throbbing light frighteningly revealed his stomach, inflated so large that it had pushed him away from the gurney, his blimp-cock half outside the cat, bulging; the top still trapped within. His balls had swollen out the back and were so mammoth that they hit the floor pushing into Growe’s huge, bubble glutes as if he was sitting on them. All his muscles were super-super-pumped, He was so over-inflated that he was gigantically-inflated-muscle-bound making movement almost impossible. His back, erectus, traps and neck had inflated to bulge out his back and almost engulf his head, which was levered back by his huge pecs. Arms and legs straight out, pressured, unable to bend or move as if shackled. He looked like a gigantic, muscle super-freak-balloon.

His vein-bulging blimp-muscular frame was only topped by his gigantic ballooning gut, now twice as big as a weather-balloon and multiple times as tight. The animal had become a gargantuan, bulging bubble occupying almost the entire front half the classroom. The students had retreated to the back, trying to get as far away from the horror as possible.

“It’s about time!” Thought the cat, panting. He had “corked” the dog’s cock, his muscles exhausted, unable to finish his reflux.

As the siren throbbed, the students shrieked, knowing what it meant. Caterwaul, shouting above the machine, directed to the Corgi, “Shut that damn thing off – override! Override!”

The Corgi, pulled back from the chaos and confusion; snapped to action, and switched the machine off. He felt guilty – no one was supposed to override the machine – especially not when in ultimate warning mode. But he knew that he had to listen to Mr. Caterwaul, or there could be consequences.

Once the siren was off a tense calm filled the room. Caterwaul’s voice, breathy from exertion but maintaining a basically normal talking tone reverberated almost quietly into the calm. “It would appear, Mr. Growe, that you’re ‘DONE.’ Actually OVERDONE. You’re very BIG…very ROUND…very TIGHT and…very…VERY PRESSURED. You’re also very arrogant and proud, if I can use those emotional words to refer to that blimp of a ball-gut and body that you’ve become – and ,” Caterwaul thought and said half aloud, his arousal getting the better of him, “very HOT!” Caterwaul purred loudly.

“I would say that, finally, you’re DEFINITELY AND COMPLETELY ‘TOO BIG!”

Caterwaul was very surprised that the dog had not yet exploded, that he was still holding. He again put it down to the body training and his muscular condition – being able to hold all that pressure. Again the cat reveled. “O, YES! This WILL be GRAND!”

But in consternation, he realized that his exhausted muscles were not up to the task of finishing the Reflux into Growe. If he couldn’t finish, the dog would not explode and Caterwaul so wanted that blast. That was that one thing that would be almost as good as bursting, himself. Plus, if the dog returned to normal, who knew what damage he would commit on the students, and Caterwaul. But he knew that his muscles, even if they had not been exhausted, might not ever have been up to the task against Growe’s strength and pressure.

Switching gears, again, “Miss Mugave…” Caterwaul shouted out to the side so as to be heard over the creaks and groans coming from Growe’s bulging body to a young American shorthair in the corner with large glasses perched on her cute, perky nose, the lenses making her green eyes huge. She was teased by the students as the ‘brain ‘of the class.

“I know you’ve read ahead: what is the ‘Monten Move?”

Miss Mugave turned pale, hesitated, and then finally whispered an answer. Caterwaul couldn’t hear over the groaning from the Dane’s gut.

“I’m sorry, Miss Mugave, I couldn’t hear you. Could you speak up?”

“…It’s another defensive move…”

“Also in the next chapter,” Interrupted Caterwaul, “which, of course, you’ve read, Miss Mugave. And how is it executed?”

“You have to be at least partially inflated…”

“As I am?”



“You take a deep breath, and on exhaling it, rapidly compress your stomach, expelling all the air in a sharp, forceful manner…” It was obvious that she had memorized the paragraph.

“Its common name is…?”

Miss Mugave said nothing.

“Again, Miss Mugave, answer me - the common name is…?”

“… …the Blaster.” She blurted out, and turned so pale it looked like she was going to faint.

“…and it’s used?” continued the cat.

Miss Mugave didn’t answer.

“AND IT’S USED…?” commanded the cat.

There were gasps in the room. The Class didn’t like the sound of that – not with the mammoth balloon of Growe filling the room.

Caterwaul was really purring now, not able to contain it at all, a partial smile on his lips. He lectured the class from his position beneath Growe’s mammoth bulge, a towering ball pressing over him. It would have been comic in other circumstances, this supercilious cat lecturing, on his back, ass plugged, with this gigantic balloon pressing him down.

“It takes much practice and concentration – But it’s very effective against your victim.” The class noticed that word - “victim” and it gave them a queasy feeling. “You perform it by using your exhale to help power your abdominal muscles in contraction. A deep inhale - exhale - and then - ‘snap.’”

“The contraction suddenly deflates your stomach with an instantaneous push-inflation into your victim. Particularly effective if your target is at - or above – maximum inflation capacity.”

“Why,” he acted surprised as if he’d just realized, “…just as Mr. Growe is.” He added ominously.

Some of the students had withdrawn to the rear wall, cringing – not liking where this was going.

Growe, even without the monitor’s siren, knew that all his inflated body parts were past maximum. He was only holding himself intact by a force of will that he had developed through years of muscle training. He also knew he couldn’t hold much longer – not with any amount of added pressure. He also knew his arousal from all the pressure was intense. He felt that he was about to cum, which by itself could break his concentration.

“Hey DOC!” Growe panted, He was feeling panicky, and furious, “- y’shit – stop it now! Right now!” He was snarling.

The cat’s cock, caught under Growe’s bulge, was still being massaged by the pressure. Any movement from either of them, even the slightest, even the vibrations from Growe’s speech, went straight into sensation. It felt great. It would make him cum – but he didn’t want to climax before the ‘finale’ –thought the cat, gritting his teeth. He needed to use the pre-orgasmic energy to help him and his exhausted muscles perform the Monten move.

Caterwaul judged the volume of his own depleted stomach. About a gallon, he thought… but… that should be more than enough…

However, he had some strong concerns. Caterwaul, himself, had never done the Monten Move against anyone. He’d practiced it, yes, but had never had to actually use it. He knew from his reading, that it could be very tricky: If the pressure in the victim was too strong- a great danger in this present situation: if the “snap” wasn’t sufficiently quick and robust – he thought of his exhausted muscles: if the snapper was distracted and lost focus, or if the strength of the victim was stronger than that of the “snapper”: another big negative; the move could backfire, literally. With the inflation channel opened, the inflation in the victim could almost instantly fill the snapper, bursting him. Pressure and strength, Caterwaul knew, were against him. Still, he’d come this far, he couldn’t stop now.

One way or another, thought the cat – someone in this classroom is going to explode.

“K, doc, y’win, YOU WIN!” shouted the dog, bringing Caterwaul back into the moment. “Just let me go and you can expel me from the institute…”

“No.” purr-panted Caterwaul, “I’m not going to expel you…”

“… I’m going to explode you…”

“EARS!” Ordered Caterwaul, a sharp, ecstatic half-smile across his manic face.

The class totally dissolved into chaos with a great amount of shrieking and shouts. Fearful of the unbelievable size and distension of the animal at the front which filled most of the front half of the room, the students cowered to the back, too frightened and paralyzed with shock and disbelief to run. Three students did overcome their fear and scrambled to get out. Knowing that Growe could blow at any second they sidled fearfully, compressing themselves to the wall so as not to risk even a whisker’s-brushing against the overstretched blimp that Growe had become and ran out the door. Those remaining compressed themselves under the desks at the back, fingers in ears.

Caterwaul collected himself – took a deep breath – held it; took another even larger, building up – held it; he was so excited and shivering he almost thought that he wouldn’t be able to even begin to do the move - or wouldn’t be able to hold back from cumming – either of which could be disastrous.


“Yyyyyeeeessssssss,” Caterwaul expelled some of his held breath, the word hissing, shivering out of him. It matched the over-excited shiver that was rumbling all over his body. “You ARE going to BLOW!!”

The cat felt the cum-ball in his lower stomach at the base of his cock, expanding. It felt hot. It started to burn as his need mounted. He was nanoseconds from cum-exploding, himself. He couldn’t – HE COULDN’T! He yowled involuntarily from the intensity.

He stopped, forced concentration, collected himself, took another breath, held it, then, with force -

“Snap” his stomach rapidly compressed –

All his remaining air was pushed into Growe, the cat started to deflate on the gurney. The air forced into Growe made a deep-toned, hollow, throbbing, whistling sound as it traveled up the Dane’s urethra – which had narrowed from the compression in his blimp-cock. That noise combined with a stretching-screech from his over-strained skin. The Dane’s drum-bubble amplified the sounds pounding them out into the classroom.

Growe felt the tightening and the intensity first in his cock. He pulled breath into himself in convulsive gulps, each gulp swelling his chest. He focused, trying to combat the snap. From the snap, his blimp-gut, and muscles, stretched past maximum, didn’t swell much bigger: they couldn’t. They tightened, veins bulging even more. They flushed a darker, shining red from the pressure that the cat was pushing into them.

Growe held his breath trying to stop the inevitable. He flung his head back, blimped arms out to his sides, almost totally spherical and over-pressured. He screamed, “YOU FUCKIN’ LIMPDICK!!” as the cat’s gas was forced into him.

He tensed.

The snap didn’t work. The cat couldn’t keep up the ‘push’, his abs failing against the hyper-pressure in Growe, as well as Growe’s mental concentration and muscle tension. Suddenly, the pressure refluxed back into the cat.

Caterwaul started to balloon ­– very rapidly this time. So rapidly he looked like he was inflating on fast-forward. The sensation for the cat – the fear, the panic –all combined into an erotic sensation. It centered in his cock and in his too-tense cum-ball.

“FOCUS!” thought the cat, “NOW is NOT the time to panic, or have an orgasm.” At the rate he was swelling it would be a matter of seconds before he reached critical. He knew he had to stop the Reflux, and fast. Focusing, he executed ‘the Cork,’ but his sphincter didn’t respond. It slowed the air, but not by much.

Growe, realizing that the cat’s Monten Move as well as his “Cork” had failed and feeling the slight reduction in pressure from the Reflux, shouted through gritted teeth, “Y-ES!!” a triumphant, manic grin on his face, “NOW YOU’RE GONNA BLOW, CATERWAUL!!” Using his abs and sphincter, he pressured his inflation into the cat, but he was totally over-aroused. The sensation of the gas rushing through his cock took him over the top.

He strained a raspy, staccato gasp: “FU’…UH’… UH’… UH’… UH’ …” and orgasmed. His body uncontrollably crunched into the first spasm, further contracting his hyper-distended abs…

…Simultaneously, fear rising up in the cat from his failure with “the Cork”, He forced a refocus, then – almost immediately with his panic fueling him – forcefully re-snapped “the Cork.” It worked. But the stimulation also made him climax. Yowling, his pressured splooge, erupted out between the two mammoth stomachs.

Powered by his spasm-orgasm-crunch, like a shot from a high-pressure fire hose, Growe’s hyper-compressed gas and splooge blasted into his cock… and right into the “Cork.”

…Just as the cat executed the “Cork”…

Growe’s blimp-dick outside the cat “whaopped” to a huge size…expanding… Growe convulsed, roaring, “f-f-f-F-F-U-U-U-U-C-K-N-N-N-O-O-O-UNGH!!”…the swelling cock-balloon turned dark maroon, shuddered…


…a huge blast … cock first…then, instantaneously, his blast de-stabilized balloon-stomach –then the rest of him…


In the blast, Growe’s jet-splooge exploded through the “Cork” and into the cat, filling him. The cat, already in orgasm, went ecstatic. Feeling the intensity, he nano-flashed the thought that the splooge-blast would overfill him, make him explode, too. That thought made his orgasm, unbelievably, more intense. His yowl reverberated but was instantly drowned out by the blast.

the gurney with the cat on it shot back, powered by the dog’s explosive splooge-blast, slamming into the wall at the front. Shattered plaster went flying as the gurney overturned, flinging Caterwaul to the floor. Yowling, spasming, the cat finished climaxing, his splooge whipped in all directions from his releasing pressure and from the blast. He jerked out all his inflation, ending up as a limp, latex puddle on the floor.

Growe’s explosion was overly severe, as the cat had expected. The blast caused an intense, instantaneous change in air pressure in the room, like a hurricane or a tornado. It blew the students, the desks, tumbling, backwards away from Growe’s ground-zero – knocking them helter-skelter, breaking noses, twisting arms and legs, bouncing off the walls – there would be many casualties in the infirmary that night.

The overhead lamps were blasted. The one immediately above Growe’s deflagration instantly levered from its mooring and tumbled surreally across the ceiling, as if across a floor, to break through the top of a window. The glass in all the windows bowed out, then shattered to bits, shards raining into the courtyard, outside. Lab equipment was wiped off counters like a huge arm came and swept them clean. Spigots twisted. Plaster cracked, crumbled. The movable blackboard, the board rotating on its pivots, rolled - then toppled back against the wall and cracked. The classroom door flew open with such force it was ripped off its hinges, tumbling outward into the hall.

The blast passed - and the cat came out of his throes. He paused, panting, looking about through swirling plaster dust, from his position on the floor at the devastation. The farthest lamp, blast-loosened, crashed onto the desks below. His ears were ringing, mildly painful – he had been too busy with saving himself and his orgasm to plug them. Still lying on his back on the floor Caterwaul’s eyes went huge, big cat-eyes in his orange latex face, “My Gahd! That WAS intense… fuckin’ WONDERFUL! Totally GRAND!!” Then composing himself, regaining his breathing, he sat up, rubbing his bruised arms and torso. “Well, I knew he would be a big blast, but I still underestimated the pressure in that dog! He kept the force contained way beyond where an average animal would have exploded!”

The Director, having been alerted by those few escaping students, had called security, then set out, running, for the classroom. The blast came as he was almost at the room. He watched as the door ripped into the hall, plaster dust billowing through the opening. He rushed into the room. “IF MY TOY HAS BEEN BURST THERE WILL BE SEVERE CONSEQUENCES!”

Caterwaul, from the floor, looked up at the Director, dim in the dust. He took a deep breath and, coughing, re-inflated to his normal plump size. He was intact though bruised and somewhat covered in blasted splooge.

“CATERWAUL!” the Director’s gaze turned on the re-filled-out cat, severe. “Explain!” he said coldly.

When Caterwaul detailed what had happened, the Director said, “You WILL pay, Caterwaul – first, for allowing it to get to this point, and – most importantly – for not notifying me of that imminent huge inflation-explosion. I should have been here! Now – because of your inconsideration – I’ve missed the biggest blast to happen at the institute since its inception!”

He turned on his heel and stalked to the door, turning his head back to Caterwaul, “you WILL pay!” he said and stomped out.

Editor's note: the following segment is not accounted for in tags



I’ll always remember when that cocky bastard, Arnie Latham tried to impress us by inflating his junk wearing only the student truss! What a riot – he inflated himself cock-eyed – and up way beyond what the truss could handle! What a “blow-job!” He had a hard time impressing the ladies after reconstructive surgery! Good luck – see you in the skies!



I’ll always remember – like YEAH – when we sneaked into the girls outside pump practice and Sue Irons decided she was going to go for the BE record. Wow, was that great – talk about the HUGEST bazoombas evah! – at least until that gust of wind came along and knocked her over right on them. Bouncy, bouncy, BAZOOMBANG-BANG! - they were a blast! – (and the memory continues to give me and my pump-handle a blast!) Best of luck in the future – stay in touch!


Alan –

I had a great time with you being here. I’ll always remember that competition between John and Hillary as to who could pump their chest the biggest. Hers got huge – and then his got huger – but he shoulda known that pecs are not made to get to that size! Woo-ie! Was that a BANG! Heard you got a job with AeroFloat. I’ve applied there too. Hope to meet up with you!

Best of luck, wherever!



I never forget all the fun we had – especially that day we got back at the ‘arrogant-leader-clique’ Arron, Jesse and Matt – on the ‘Blimps’. Putting the inflation formula into the Coach’s personal lube, that they always used after practice in the showers, was a truly inspired idea! Hell. They were having a great time under the showers until things got ‘out of hand!’ They looked like three real ‘blimps’ trying to fight in a thunderstorm. I still LOL when I remember them: fighting to fit through the door all at once. ‘just over-compressed them. Talk about the Keystone Cops with a really big-bang ending! I heard that they’ll be returning next year once they’re out of physical therapy – but they’ll have a lot less cock-iness about them! Get out the lube! And keep it up – in all ways – always! Stay in touch!



Well we made it – all in one piece! Especially you. You know I thought it was real stupid of the “Swell Club” to run that competition, pressuring you (pardon the pun) to go up against Lenny. But you won! He was stupid, testosterone-stupid. When you were bigger than him and he turned up the inflation-pressure – stupid! Then when he became about, what? - twice as big as you? Yeah, he was ‘king’ with all his bravado – and his arms up and all, “I’ve won! I’ve won! I’m the biggest!” Until his eyes popped because he’d left his gas on – and then the rest of him followed suit. Good luck – and keep away from stupid stunts – and testosterone-fools!