Lose Weight Now, Ask Me How

"Buyer's remorse" doesn't quite capture what she was feeling.  "Cheated, humiliated."  Now, those terms would describe the feeling more succinctly.  Perhaps what had made the encounter so troubling was the fact that she didn't consider herself to be the easily duped, naive type.  The consumer mayhem of "Black Friday" surely didn't help.  Yes, that's it;  long day, fatigue.  That's why she gave in.  The comforting embrace of rationalization always helped to salve a psychic wound such as this.  But, still... thirty bucks for the stuff; what was she thinking?    

**************

All day she had been treading water in a frothy sea of human chaos.  Outside, winter approached.  Inside, the suburban cocoon was sweltering.  Fueled by the desperation that radiated from the crowd, the atmosphere percolated just below critical mass.  She wandered in a Brownian fashion on the ground floor, dodging the potted trees, fountains, and catatonic shoppers.  Her legs ached and her head pounded as she clutched several large plastic bags that held the day's booty.   It was time to extricate herself and go home to some peace and quiet.  

Stopping in front of a big department store for a moment to get her bearings, she staggered numbly towards the direction from whence she entered this particular circle of Hell. The crowds thinned out in the extremities of the mall and the merchandise offerings in the kiosks at the center of the concourse ranged from banal to, well, pitiful.  Most of the bored attendants had their faces buried in their mobile phones while disinterested shoppers strolled by.  But there was something about the last one at the end of the wide corridor.   Ordinarily, she probably wouldn't have noticed it, but when she laid eyes on the display did a double take, clumsy footsteps bringing her to a halt on the tiled floor.  The attending sales associates noticed and looked directly at her.  

Instinctively, she turned her gaze upward and found herself gawking at the bouquet of big red helium balloons softly swaying above the striped fabric the kiosk's roof.  Shiny and buoyant, they were captivating.  

She self-consciously broke her lingering gaze with a start and again and looked down, only to see the man and woman still staring directly at her.  "Just great" she muttered under her breath.  With a questioning look, the man turned his head and looked at his dark haired female partner on the opposite side of the faux handcart.  The woman returned his gesture with a slight nod.  Once again, the man fixated on his target, smiling.

Resuming her sortie at a brisk pace, she cast her gaze off to the side - anywhere other than at the two marketing predators standing between her and the glass doors of the mall entrance.  She felt like a gazelle at a watering hole amidst the cheetahs.

"Excuse me, miss?" the man in the earnest sweater pleasantly intoned as she approached.  He moved a few paces out from the kiosk so as to make it impossible to be politely ignored.  

"Crap" she cursed quietly.  There was no getting away now.  

"I'd like to introduce you to our new product."  He gestured at the mostly empty shelves in the kiosk as he spoke.  Above several squat, plain jars was a sign imploring the reader to "LOSE WEIGHT NOW, ASK ME HOW!"  

He had her full attention now, that was for sure and if looks could kill the man with the earnest haircut and earnest sweater would have been bleeding to death from the cuts of a thousand eye daggers.  Why was it that complete strangers felt the need to point out to her the fact that she was not exactly skin and bone?  What business of it theirs was?  She never went around calling out attention to the physical flaws in others.  It was just plain rude.  Really.

The female now spoke up, a distinctly foreign accent rolling off her tongue.  "Believe me, I know how difficult it is losing those last few unwanted pounds."  The English woman placed her arms akimbo and turned to the side, seductively smiling as she showed off a svelte figure wrapped in a stylish business skirt and blouse.  "I've lost over one hundred".  

"It's an amazing product".  The man wearing the earnest slacks and shoes added.  

"Great.  Now comes the hard sell," she thought, sighing loudly and letting her shoulders drop.  What was it going to be, good cop/bad cop?   "Thanks, but I'm really not int..."

"Such a wonderful aroma"  English cut in.  The woman had pulled one of the jars off the shelf, opened it, and brought the rim to her nose.  Deeply inhaling, she rolled her eyes up into fluttering lids.  "There's absolutely nothing like it."  

Earnest took a turn now, holding out a container to her.  "It's normally a sixty per jar but, today only, it's half off".

"Thirty bucks?"  she blurted, rolling her eyes.  "Look, I'm just trying to g..."

"Immediate results and a money back guarantee" Earnest bounced back, unfazed and smiling.  "No questions asked."

"What do you have to lose?"  English chimed in.

"Just a few pounds" Earnest replied.  They exchanged knowing glances, giggling at the scripted spontaneity.

She stood there for an uncomfortable moment, staring Earnest down, while weighing her options.  He smiled back, unwavering.  Numb, tired, and aching, she just wanted to go home.  She could easily step around Earnest and head out the nearby entrance but was too tired to put up much of a fight.

She relented, speaking with a gruff deadpan.  "Fine.  Whatever.  I don't have any cash."

"Not a problem."  Earnest gestured at the credit card processing machine sitting on the cart.  Meanwhile, English produced a small plastic shopping bag and placed one of the jars in it.  

A big red balloon from the rustling cloud was freed and its ribbon used to tie off the bag.  English smiled as product and payment were exchanged, looking directly into her customer's eyes with an oddly mischievous expression.  "Part of the promotion, love" she cooed as the bag and it's contents changed ownership.  "It's what you've been looking for."

It took the bracing wind outside the entrance to recall her common sense from its little walkabout.  The regret of having been taken advantage of gripped her and she had abruptly stopped in her tracks, forcing other mall patrons to detour around. She felt like an idiot standing there holding the balloon as it was whipped about by the wind, bouncing against the back of her head.  

After an intense moment of closed-eyed, clenched-jaw, silent cursing, she turned around and marched right back in, determined to get her money back.   The warm and humid wall met her on the other side of the double glass doors and she walked the short distance to the kiosk with a deliberate, I-am-really-pissed-off gait.  The balloon happily bobbed and weaved behind.  

It had only been a minute or two, but the two were gone.  The cart was empty and the balloons were missing, too.  She turned to look down the length of the wide corridor, anger flushing her face.  There was no sign of them in the crowd.  A quick walk down to the intersection with the next bustling concourse was fruitless as well.  She turned again toward the exit, defeated.

It was a long drive home.

*************

The jar sat on the vanity where she had carelessly tossed it. Above, the balloon rolled around on the ceiling as the end of its tether dangled just above the floor.  Meanwhile, she sat on the sofa in the living room, having melted into the cushions over the course of several hours.  Her shopping clothes had been traded for sweatpants and a sweatshirt soon after arrival and the ensuing evening had been filled with self-pity and regret in front of the television with only a quart of ice cream and a bag of pretzels to keep her company.  She had continued channel surfing long past the point of boredom and presently her thumb mechanically pressed the "UP" channel button once every few seconds.  There were certainly better ways of spending a Friday evening.  

"Enough" she finally announced to the furniture and off went the television.  Sitting there in the dim light, she felt like a slob - a gullible, gullible slob.  A few moments later she grumpily clawed her way out of the butt-shaped divot in her seat and stumbled in the dark toward the bedroom.

**************

The lingering sweetness of the toothpaste swirled in her mouth as she rinsed out the brush.  At the edge of the sink was the jar.  She stared back and forth from it to her reflection in the mirror, re-evaluating the frumpy curves with which she was so familiar.  The only sound was that of the rushing air from the vent in the ceiling.  A moment later, her clothes lay in a crumpled heap on the floor and her reflection was topless and wearing only panties.  Fat?  No.  But definitely flabby, she grimly noted... again.  A pinchable inch here, a wobbly bit there - not exactly the stuff of a super model or even the long gone body of her youth.  She turned to view her profile so as to compare it with that of the English woman at the kiosk.  "Nope, not even close" she said out loud, shaking her head in grim honesty.

Again, she looked at the jar on the vanity, picked it up, and turned it around while searching the label for ingredients or instructions - neither of which was to be found.  The only writing anywhere on it was the word "H  E  L  I  U  M" written on the label in a modernish script, white on black.  

Carefully, she opened the jar and peered into it.  It was filled with a clear, shiny gel and she brought it to her nose: nothing.   It was odorless.  She was not surprised.  Looking at the jar again and then back at her reflection, she paused for a moment and then dipped two fingers into the goo.  

The sensation of it was odd.  The substance seemed as though it had no mass, like a high-tech aero gel of some sort and it felt cool on contact like an alcohol hand sanitizer.  Topical?  She plunged her fingers back in,  scooped out a good handful, and put the jar back down.  She then wrung her hands together to coat both palms evenly and began to apply the gel to her naked body.  Everywhere she did, the gel soaked into her skin so quickly that it was difficult to determine exactly where it she had already put it on.  The only clue was a sensation of coolness.  After several helpings and more smearing of it around, she was satisfied that all her problem areas had been covered, which is to say she applied the stuff to just about everywhere.   The cool sensation persisted, causing her to sport goose pimples on most of her naked flesh.

She stood up straight and stepped back a pace to view herself.  "Immediate results, eh?" she thought, turning side to side.  Except for the lingering coolness, there were no changes.  

She stepped forward to get a close-up in the mirror.

Instantly, an intense tickling washed over her from head to toe.  Her breath shortened and her knees went wobbly for just a moment.  Grabbing the edge of the vanity for stability she stared wide-eyed into her reflection.  Her heart seemed to flutter and skip a few beats while her reflection's mouth was agape, unable to process the flood of tactile information and offer up an explanation.

The tickling was soon accompanied by a feeling of tightness in her skin that, again, seemed to be everywhere.  In the mirror her reflection's breasts noticeably perked and she reached up and hugged herself reflexively, arms across her chest as each hand grabbed an opposite shoulder.  Her mounds felt firmer against her forearms and she could feel her turgid nipples pushing out.  With her hands up near her face, she sensed something else.  It was a familiar smell, almost chemical in nature.  Pressing a wrist up to her nose, she inhaled.  The aroma was strong and she quickly identified it, then released her newly bouncing chest and began sniffing up and down both arms.  There was no denying it; her skin smelled of latex rubber.  Again, she looked up and stared intently at herself in the mirror.  The woman in the reflection still had no answers.  The two gawked at each other, panic rising.

Another wave hit.  This one was much more powerful, dominating her consciousness and bringing her to her knees.  She stayed on the floor for a moment, panting hard and trembling.  Still holding onto the edge of the vanity, she slowly pulled herself back up on her shaky legs and feet.  She leaned over the sink and steadied herself with arms locked at the elbows.  The face in the mirror was very close, taking up most of her view.  It was much more distressed than before.  

The sensation now felt as if thousands of bubbles were brushing against her skin and she found it very difficult to concentrate on anything.  She took a deep, trembling breath that swelled her rib cage and pressed her breasts against her upper arms.  

She exhaled.  

The swelling continued.   

She could feel her breasts still expanding out against her arms and, looking down past her reflection's chin, watched as they burgeoned before her eyes.   Deep, pneumatic cleavage formed at their juncture and she rotated her arms to accentuate the positive.  Good God yes, they were actually expanding.  

Her boobs squeaked as they were pushed together.

She bolted upright, wide eyed at hearing the noise.  They stood out proudly, noticeably bigger and fuller, bouncing around.  Again, crossing her arms over her expanding bosom, she cupped each breast.  There was no doubt about it - she was growing.  Each bouncy bit of flesh was swelling in her hands, forcing her fingers apart and her elbows out away from her chest.  They felt different, too - the skin was tighter yet more pliable at the same time.

Gingerly, she released the squeaky death grip on her chest and let her arms fall to the side.  They came to rest in a manner with which she was not accustomed and she realized that her hips were growing, too - and her tummy.  Frantic hands explored her mostly naked body.  Everywhere, more flesh; swelling flesh that squeaked on contact.  Again, she looked up at the reflection in the mirror, hands clutching her belly.  Even her shoulders seemed to be swelling.  In fact, her womanly curves were all the more so, approaching the cartoonish.  Her breasts were bloating up before her eyes.  Below, a now firm tummy rounded out beneath her navel and hands.  Her thighs swelled as her hips widened making her panties press into flesh they barely contained.  Her backside rounded out, tight and firm yet still soft.  Beneath her breasts, her chest swelled, too, and all over her skin had taken on a muted lustre.  The lights around the vanity reflected off her peach flesh.

Behind her doppelganger in the mirror, the big red balloon gently rolled around on the textured ceiling.  There was a click of the thermostat in the hallway and the furnace began to shut down.  The roar of the rushing air slowly tapered off until the apartment was silent, save for the squeaking of skin expanding on skin.  With the quiescence, the balloon came to a rest and she looked up at it for a moment.  There was another sound.  A quiet hissing gently filled her ears.  It had been there for a while, she realized, but masked by the din of the central air system.    

A connection slowly began establishing itself in her fore-brain.  She looked down at the jar on the counter: Helium.  Above her:  balloon.  Then there was the hissing and the shiny, squeaking flesh.  And, yes: lighter - she felt lighter on her feet.  An insistent, beckoning upness slowly built as she stood before the mirror.  Her chest continued to swell, breasts growing - no, ballooning atop it.  Ever-present still, was the incessant bubbling under her skin.  It was almost too much to bear.  

The hiss intensified and, watching herself in the mirror, a tiny whimper escaped her lips.  All over, the expansion accelerated.  Breasts inflated and perked above a swelling torso and shoulders while her arms slowly rose away from her sides.  The stitches on her dainty panties soon gave way with a soft pop as the swelling flesh beneath bounced outward with new-found freedom.  She felt lighter still, buoyant even.  

Her boobs were the first to venture upwards.  Still inflating, they lifted in front of her and blocked the mirror.  Up her hands went to push down the bouncy balloons and then up on the balls of her feet she went.  She gasped and for a moment teetered on the brink of weightlessness as she then went up on the tips of her toes.  Moments later:  release.  She was free in the air and rising slowly.  

Still, she swelled.  With each passing moment she got bigger and rose a little higher.  Everywhere, her skin tightened, squeaking with each panicked movement.  The carpeted floor receded below and her reflection passed above the mirror.  The top of her head rebounded off of the red balloon, startling her.  Soon thereafter, her back was gently pressing on the ceiling.  She stared down at the floor, holding onto herself for dear life.  Her belly now swelled the quickest - pulling, tugging, and rounding out.  

The thermostat clicked in the hallway and the furnace roared to life.  She could bear it no longer.

************************

She awoke in the morning, face down on her bed.  The foggy memory of the previous evening's events looped in her head as she slowly arose and sat on the edge of the mattress.  Above, the big red balloon still rolled around on the ceiling.  She looked down at her body.  All was normal again, except for a little remaining puffiness.  

Moments later, she was in front of the mirror, examining herself.  Her skin seemed to glow in the vanity's incandescent light, younger looking and not so flabby as it had been.  Her breasts, too, were still perky and bouncier than they had been.  The tickling had long subsided, but the memory was still there and as she rubbed her arms along her torso, she shivered ever so slightly.

The opened jar was still sitting by the sink and she picked it up, evaluating the remaining contents.  Just a little bit was left over.  She looked into the eyes of the woman in the mirror for a moment and then down to her chest.  She stared back down at the jar again as an impish grin formed itself on her lips.  She scooped up the remainder of the gel and turned it over in her hand as the the cool sensation worked its way into her fingers once more.  Carefully, she applied it to each breast and then waited.

The hissing returned.  With wide eyes she watched as her femininity swelled, two inflating balloons bouncing on her chest.  

Passing buoyancy, they quickly grew much bigger than the night before and soon she was barely able to put her arms around them, hugging herself in the process.   Moments later, she was up on the balls of her feet.  Then, up on her toes for just a brief moment.  And then....


*******************

It wasn't until early evening that she came down and was able to bouncy-walk around the apartment.  Her bazooms still swollen and very buoyant, she hastily threw her sweats back on and grabbed her purse.  With her fly-away hair and unrestrained chest bouncing wildly under her cotton top,  she was a sight to behold as she ran down the stairwell and out to her little economy car.  The tires squealed as she tore out of the parking lot.  Out in traffic, she impatiently revved the little engine at intersections, waiting for the lights to change.  It seemed she hit every red light between her apartment and the mall.  The shoulder strap of her seat belt pressed uncomfortably into her swollen chest the whole way.

A frantic search of the mall yielded no trace of the man and woman and there was no listing on the mall directory.  Even the security guard at the help desk could find no reference.  He was a bit too pre-occupied with her heaving chest to be of much help, anyway.  The evening was slipping away and she hurriedly weighed her options.  There were two other malls in town, but it was nearing nine o'clock and there was not enough time to visit both before they closed.  

*******************

She sat in her idling car.  On the other side of the glass, a light snow fell.  The heater blower growled on its high setting while the windshield wipers methodically swept back and forth. Her hands gripped the steering wheel while she focused her great mental powers of shop-kwan-do, estimating to which of the retail complexes she could make it before closing time.  Recalculating complete, she sped off.  

Twenty aggravating minutes later, she arrived at her destination, parked sloppily, and ran inside.  Up and down each concourse, she searched desperately.  Her chest had deflated somewhat more, but was still big enough to elicit stares.   Again, after two full circuits, there was no sign of the pair.  Most of the smaller shops had begun to lower their security gates, signaling to the thinning crowds that closing time was nigh. There was no hope for the evening.  What made her think that she would find them, anyway?  Defeated again, she turned to leave.  

Making her way back out to the parking lot, she turned the final corner down a mostly de-populated concourse and stopped in her tracks.  

Ahead was a lonely kiosk.  

A clutch of big red balloons floated above, tethered to it with ribbons.  Below stood a man and a woman, both engaged with their mobile phones and not aware of her.  The woman had her back turned and was deep in a conversation.  The man looked down into his, thumbs busily texting away.

The disheveled woman's heart skipped a beat as she slowly began walking toward the familiar pair.  Nervously, she approached Earnest.  He looked up, slightly startled, and then smiled.  She smiled back unsteadily, wide eyed and heart pounding.  He reached over to English and tapped her on the shoulder.  "Lucy, we have a customer."   

The woman - English -  no, "Lucy" stopped in mid sentence and turned around.  For a moment, there was no expression on her face.  Then, she narrowed her eyes and smiled devilishly.  "Right.  Almost done here.  Call you back"  she spoke into her phone, ending the conversation.  Deliberately, she took-in the newly buxom woman standing before her.

"Indeed we do, Mr. Smith."