Thief, The

Inflation Types:
Popping:
Date Written: 
11/06/2011

I checked my watch one final time: one minute to go. As I pulled my hair back beneath my gray beanie, I took a few deep breaths to calm my nerves. I didn't usually get too nervous before jobs, but this one promised to be a special challenge, even for a thief with my… unusual skillset.

The digital display on my watch flashed as I adjusted my satchel and tightened my gloves: show time. Straightening against the shadowed pillar, I drew in my mind's eye a three-dimensional blueprint of the vault. My fingers shaped symbols in the air, and, steeling myself, I uttered the short incantation.

There surrounded me a sensation of between, bitter cold mixed with deafening gusts of blackness. It lasted but a moment, yet seemed to stretch on indefinitely, to the point where I wondered if I would reach my destination. But finally, the tumult died down, and I reentered the universe with a jolt.

It is difficult to describe the experience of teleportation. No words can really do justice to the space between point A and point B, and there is no real precedent for what happens when you get there. First there is a FWOOMP! of displaced air, and then an immediate and overwhelming sensation of fullness, as if your lungs, stomach, and intestines have all reached their capacity. Along with the fullness is the hug of fabric that doesn't fit quite so perfectly anymore, and extreme vertigo that borders on nausea for a few moments before subsiding. The cramped pressure inside your body improves as high concentrations of air flow toward low concentrations, and the system reaches equilibrium. In practice, it involves quite a bit of belching and flatulence.

I did a quick bit of fiddling with my sweater and pants to relieve the various tight spots. My body, now at twice its normal volume, looked significantly plumper than it had mere moments before, outside the gates. I couldn't help but take a moment to run my hands across the assorted new curves. Another belch found its way out of my mouth. Blushing, I finally composed myself and took a look at where I was.

The vault was maybe ten feet by fifteen, and lined on all sides with drawers and glass cases, each containing a treasure of some sort. All were undoubtedly valuable, but my principal aim was not money. I like to steal things that are one of a kind. Special. Powerful. And tonight, I had my eye set on a very special prize. Which was a bit of a problem, considering that, as I examined every case and opened every drawer in the entire vault, I couldn't seem to find it.

A twinge of panic began to stir in my bloated gut. The mansion had dozens of rooms; if the amulet wasn't here, then it could take hours to determine its true location. I did, luckily, have hours. That wasn't the problem, however. The problem was that I was locked inside a vault that couldn't be opened from within.

I brushed some renegade locks of hair back under my beanie. At the moment, I had two options: teleport outside the vault and explore the rest of the dimly-lit, security-patrolled mansion, or abort the mission. My judgement was perhaps a bit skewed by adrenaline, but I really wanted that damn amulet. Sighing, I visualized the hallway outside the vault, twiddled out the hand signals, and uttered the incantation.

The between was shorter this time around, but the instant expansion made my eyes bug out. The outrageous pressure was exacerbated by the fact that I had to hold in the air to keep silent while I scoped out the areas adjacent to me. Only when I had determined the coast was clear did I let out a long, muted belch. My intestines squirmed uncomfortably, but I was too nervous to relieve the pressure, or too prudent—I am a lady, after all.

Moonlight shone through a large picture window not too far away from me. In the dimness, I could see my startlingly enlarged breasts peeking out the top of my sweater. I probably looked pregnant with a whole batch of extra-large fetuses. I put a hand to my face: even my lips seemed a smidge fuller.

I made my way as stealthily as I could down the hallway. If my mental map was correct, I should be heading toward the next likeliest spot: the study. Doorframe after doorframe passed—how many rooms were there in this damn house?—and I heard nothing but my own very quiet breath, and the occasional gurgle as my abdomen complained about the pressure. Finally, I arrived at Door #1.

My panties dug into the cleft of my buttocks as I knelt down and removed the lockpick kit from my satchel. The door was ancient, probably solid oak, but the lock was brand new. This could take a little while.

I had been at it for probably a good ten minutes when I heard footsteps echoing softly down the hall. In the darkness, I was concealed, but as I gazed down the rows of shafted moonlight toward the sound, I made out the figure of a guard strolling sedately toward me. I had very little time.

The lock continued to defy my attempts at breaching the study. The guard drew closer. My breathing grew faster, and I feared he might hear it. I had no alternative. Yanking out the tools and tossing them back in my satchel, I shut my eyes, waved my fingers, and whispered the incantation.

I was instantly inside the pitch-black study, and instantly consumed by unbearable fullness. I wanted nothing more than to let it all out in an explosion of bodily gas release, but I mustered every ounce of strength to hold it in. My eyes watered as I listened for the guard to walk by the door. All the while, I dreaded that he might be able to hear the storm of thunderous noises emanating from my midsection. I was startled by a sudden pop as my navel became convex.

An eternity passed, and the footsteps died away. Exhaling gratefully, I allowed my body to relax, and discovered to my horror that the air had apparently lodged itself quite irretrievably within my gut. The pressure remained almost debilitating, but it now had no outlet.

That amulet had better be in here.

I rummaged around in my satchel, struggling to reach it with both hands around my rotund stomach, and pulled out a flashlight. The bright beam ignited the opposite wall, and in the ambient glow, I beheld the astonishing expanse of my body. If I had to guess, my bust was nearing a foot and a half across, and my belly a bit less than twice that. Neither was much contained by my sweater. My ass felt cinched by a pair of panties that would now probably fit someone twice my normal size easily. My face felt pudgy; I probably had dimples now, and big pouty lips. I was forced to waddle as I searched the room.

All four walls were lined with towering bookcases; in one corner I bounced against a massive armchair, accompanied by an embroidered lamp. There were more than just books on the shelves, and as I looked, my eyes fell upon a bust of some Greek deity—Pallas, no doubt—around whose neck there rested a pendant. My heart skipped a beat. The amulet! Just sitting there, with no locks, no vaults, not even a good dusting. The last artifact of an ancient mystical order, said to channel the forces of nature and give its wearer power over birds and beasts, and here it was, a knicknack in some rich fool's study. It seemed almost pathetically easy.

I grabbed the amulet and gently placed it in a velvet pouch, which I then stowed in my satchel. The job was nearly complete, with only a few minor complications, if waddling around like an overstuffed beanbag for a few days counted as minor. I composed myself with a grin, secured the strap of my satchel securely across my front, and cast the spell one last time.

I materialized outside the gates, concealed once more behind a brick pillar. Or, partially concealed, at least. As the vertigo subsided and I adjusted to the unbelievable pressure raging within me, I did a quick mental calculation. Each teleportation displaced my current volume in air, which would double my volume with each casting. After four teleportations, I was sixteen times my original volume. I couldn't see much past the beachball-sized globes of my breasts, but I knew I must look absolutely ridiculous. I had to be nearly as wide as I was tall. Moving around, I discovered with some consternation that my legs would barely bend, forced rigid by the inconcievable amount of air lodged inside them. My arms were not much better by comparison. Cold air in unexpected places signaled that my wardrobe had malfuctioned rather irretrievably. Frankly, I was surprised it had held out this long.

If the futility of my situation hadn't yet become apparent, it was quickly brought home to me when my first attempt at walking resulted in a fall that ended—much too quickly—with a rubbery bounce. I was stuck, eyes gazing up at the stars.

There followed several mortifying minutes of Sisyphean struggle as I variously rolled, rocked, and bobbed to and fro in an attempt to right myself. I was ultimately forced to accept that I was not going anywhere.

As my breathing, quickened by the exertion, grew calmer, I heard the tread of a leather boot. I couldn't know who it was, but probability indicated that it wasn't someone I wanted to run into in my present state. I was terrified; I seriously doubted my body's ability to withstand another teleportation. The pressure was already so intense. But the footsteps grew closer, and finally, clenching shut my eyes, I pictured my living room, twiddled my fingers, and mumbled the incantation through swollen lips.

I very nearly passed out from the pressure. It stretched my body in all directions, forcing its way into every corner, every crevice. It was fullness beyond reason, like the entire universe was crammed into me. Never again will I look at a balloon without shuddering. I truthfully thought I was going to explode.

My stomach gave a gurgle, and then a rush of gas burst from between my puckered lips. A similar gust exited my rear. I blushed, but only half-heartedly; already I felt indescribably better.

My clothes had said their last goodbyes, and now lay in tatters on the floor around me. The satchel strap had torn, and the bag's contents were now strewn across the carpet; I spied the velvet pouch, and the unmistakeable bulge inside it. My treasure was safe.

I examined my current state. It was of course impossible to tell for certain, but I seemed to be altogether rotund. Nothing more than a ball seated gently upon the floor. Swollen hands and feet wiggled stiffly at far removed points, sunken into divots on my drum-tight surface. Beyond the canyon that comprised my cleavage, I saw little except a horizon of pale, shiny skin, too taut to raise goose-pimples despite the cold air. I could feel my crotch rubbing against the carpet, inflated past my feet. My cheeks were comically engorged, and my lips were puffed so full that I couldn't speak. Mobility, at least attemptable before, was now an impossibility; my efforts rewarded me with nothing more than a gentle wobble.

Oh, well. It would be at least a day before I could even attempt to move around, and another week or so before I'd be in any condition to go out. Until then, I could afford to relax.

Another belch rolled up my esophagus. I let it escape through my nose. My body cushioned itself against the floor, and despite myself, I felt my eyes grow heavy. Sleep would be a welcome reprieve, though I'd no doubt be hungry when I woke up. Oh, well. That could wait. For now, I was satisfied.

I had my trinket.

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ProdigyNtraining
ProdigyNtraining's picture
One thing: what's the

One thing: what's the incantation?

I would teleport all over my room if I knew it

I might be a bit chubby now, but, ya see that hose over there?

You know what to do with it~