Clinic, The

"We offer various novel techniques for maintaining and improving health, including colonic irrigation, acupuncture and oxygen therapy. Special introductory offer of two treatments for the price of one. See one of our students and get treated free."

I'm not normally the kind of person who goes in for alternative therapies, but this really looked tempting, particularly from what i'd seen of the beautiful female therapists who worked there. Without bothering to read any further, i turned to the back of the leaflet and dialled the number I found.

I was rewarded by a lovely rich voice at the other end.

"Aerophagus Health Farm, how may we help you?"

"I was just reading one of your leaflets, and i understand you offer free treatments."

"Well yes, if you see one of our students they will treat you without charge, but you must understand they are not as experienced as our fully-trained therapists, and we offer a sliding scale of prices-"

"No thank you, that won't be necessary, i'd like to see one of your students please."

"Very well sir, that's fine. As you know, we are a training clinic and it's important that our students gain experience too. I am a student myself sir, as a matter of fact. When would it be convenient to make an appointment?"

I proceeded to make an appointment for Tuesday evening at 7pm.

On arrival at the clinic, i saw a small, white building with a silver plaque outside. I rang the doorbell.

The woman who opened the door was breathtakingly beautiful, with long black curly hair tied back in a ponytail, black eyes and voluptuous breasts that seemed to be threatening to burst out of her shiny purple spandex unitard, and another fact that was clearly revealed by her skin-tight clothes was that she worked out and had nice firm muscles of just the right development. When she spoke, it was clear she was the owner of the voice i'd heard on the 'phone. She also smiled, and it was like we were both illuminated by a heavenly light.

The weirdest thing about her, though, was the state of her fingernails. Rather incongruously for a health care professional,although they were immaculately manicured, they were also painted purple like her unitard and about two inches long.

"Good evening sir, my name is Lisa, how may i be of assistance?"

"I have an appointment to see one of your students for some therapy."

"Ah yes, that'll be me. Please follow me," she said warmly, and i stepped over the threshold.

She caught me looking at her unitard and either misinterpreted or decided to be tactful.

"Ah yes, well you know we do exercise programs as well as complementary therapies. I've just finished teaching an aerobics session."

"I see."

We went through a door, and i found myself in a white, incredibly clean room with a desk and two chairs, screens obscuring one corner.

"Take a seat," Lisa said as she gestured to the closer chair and sat down at the desk herself.

I hazarded a compliment.

"I like your nails," I said quietly.

"Oh, uh - thanks," she replied, kind of furtively, and flourished them impressively. "Many people get the impression that they're inappropriate for this line of work, but believe me, I've found them very useful in certain of the therapies I practice." She grinned slightly, then seemed to repress a laugh.

"I need to conduct a short interview, but could you fill in this form first please sir?" she asked as she pushed a clipboard towards me.

"Sure," I said, and looked at the form. It consisted of a legal waiver of some kind I didn't bother to read properly, though it was something to the effect of them not being liable for any injuries, and several tick boxes next to the words "Acupuncture", "Therapeutic massage", "Manipulative osteopathy", "Colonic irrigation" and "Oxygen therapy". I proceeded to tick "Acupuncture" and "Oxygen therapy". After these boxes was a further question:

"If you wish to undergo oxygen therapy, please choose the level required:

4 [] 8 [] 12 [] 16 [] 20 [x]."

Knowing that this was a free session and wanting to get the most out of it, I put a cross in "20", which sounded like the best value, and slid the form back to Lisa. Without reading the form, she spoke, in a brisk, professional manner.

"OK, thanks, now I just need to ask you a few questions before we start. Do you suffer from any digestive or respiratory problems?"

"No."

"Do you have a heart condition or high blood pressure?"

"No."

"Do you have any kind of hernia?"

"No."

"Excellent. Well sir, I think you can avail yourself of all our facilities."

She glanced at the form, then read it in more detail, and there was silence for a while before she raised her eyebrows, looked up and asked me:

"Do you know what oxygen therapy involves?"

Well actually I had no idea, but having no wish to embarrass myself in front of this Amazon, I bluffed.

"Oh yes, I've found it most beneficial and I'm very happy that I've finally found a professional oxygen therapist like yourself locally."

"Well sir, actually I'm an oxygen therapy virgin, and I'll have to consult the manual, but I'm sure you'll be able to advise me if I do anything wrong."

She slid open a drawer and brought out a thick white paperback with a diagram of lungs and digestive system on the front. She furrowed her brow and read for a while, strumming her fingernails on the desk.

"OK sir, well let's see. You're going to have to seal your anus and change into the clothes we provide first of all, so if you could just go behind those screens and do that, that'd be great."

"Seal my anus?"

"Yes sir, of course. Here's the plaster." She handed me a large white plaster and I was somewhat taken aback, but I didn't want to back out now, so I went behind the screens as she requested. Once there, I found a small cupboard, a padded examination couch and two garments hanging over the screen rails by coat hanger, to which I initially paid little attention. I took off my jacket, trousers, shirt and so forth and folded them neatly in a pile before taking the plaster and sticking it over my anus. I began to wonder what would happen. Then I lifted the clothes down. They consisted of shinypurple spandex pants and a similar zip-up top, a spandex sweatsuit in fact, which I put on. They were extremely tight and revealing. I managed to get the pants on fine, but only just managed to pull the two halves of the zipper together. They made me feel very self-conscious - too tight, too shiny and too purple.

"Lisa?"

"Yes sir? Are you ready?"

"Not quite. Could you help me with my zipper? I can't seem to zip myself up."

"Certainly sir, I quite understand." She removed the screen and came up to me. I felt rather self-conscious in the spandex pants and even more so as she expertly zipped me up, bending forward while she did so and giving me quite a good view of her cleavage. As she did this,the nail of her index finger gently raked my front and I noticed absently that her unitard, my suit and her nails were exactly the same shade of purple, which struck me as something of a coincidence at the time, but again I shrugged it off.

Something about her manner as she did this suggested she was more practised at this sort of thing than she was leading me to believe, but I put it down to her generally professional manner. She was clearly a very experienced woman, but as yet I was unaware of the precise area of her prowess.

Once I was finally in the suit, she spoke again.

"There's no need to be embarrassed at how you look sir, only I can see you. Very well then, if you could just lie down on the couch that would be great."

I did so as she continued to consult the manual. She came back briefly and strapped down my arms and legs in a widely spread out position.

"It says here that the suit you're wearing is supposed to contain the pressure. It's just as well it's so stretchy, isn't it?"

I had no idea what she was talking about, but I nodded anyway, out of embarrassment.

"Right, I'll just get the machine out of the cupboard."

She opened the cupboard door and wheeled out a device consisting of a gas cylinder connected to a stirrup pump from which a scarily ribbed looking hose emerged. It was starting to look a bit disturbing, but I felt sure it would be worth it in the end. Once again she had a practised air about what she was doing.

"Now I just have to put this noseclip on you."

She leaned over and put it on my nose, and she was so close I could feel her breath on my face. Our spandex-clad bodies slid against each other as she did so and I could feel her tightly contained flesh for a moment before she went back to the machine, saying "I'll get the hose then," which she did, then returned to my side, saying "Open your mouth please sir," which I did.

Clearly this machine was designed to help me breathe the oxygen, I supposed. It seemed to make sense, but then why did I have to wear this suit? What was that about? And the plaster? What did she mean by "contain the pressure"? I had to admit to myself that I didn't understand what was going on, but not to her of course. We'd gone too far to back down now.

She took the hose, and very gently introduced it into my throat, where it felt rather rough. Despite my discomfort, I was once again aware of Lisa's breasts, encased in shiny tight fabric brushing smoothly against my own firmly contained torso.

"Right, I've got the hose in place. Now, what level did you want?" Lisa said absently to herself as she glanced at my form. She jumped back, startled, and rather theatrically I thought.

"Wow! Twenty gallons! You must have had this done so many times! I'm impressed. You know that would burst anyone who wasn't really experienced? Their organs would never be stretchy enough for that!"

Suddenly, it all fell into place. I knew what it was about. Lisa was about to use this machine to blow me up like a balloon!

I panicked and tried desperately to shout out for her to stop, but with the tube in my throat all I could manage was a muffled "mmpf!", and in any case she was concentrating on the machine, turning the gas tap on and letting the oxygen through to the pump. As she did so, the handle on the pump shot up like a bullet.

"Hmm, now that should be about four gallons, which should be enough to fill you completely with gas. There'll be five of these, won't there? You know, most beginners can barely even manage to hold half of this volume in. Still, no such problem with you, is there?"

She reached for the handle and began to push it down. There was a loud hiss as she forced the gas into me. My lungs filled immediately, like taking a deep breath, then I saw and felt the oxygen surge into my stomach and intestines, and after just a few seconds I was lying there feeling horribly bloated. I felt so full, and my belly was bulging out under the top. The zipper was wrinkled against the strain my expanding body was putting it under, and I already felt I could hardly contain the pressure of the gas inside me. I struggled against my bonds and looked at her with pleading eyes, but she was studying the manual again and didn't look up.

"Right, well it says here that you haven't actually started to inflate yet: you're just full of air at the moment, and you need to be inflated, don't you? I've been looking forward to this: I've never seen anyone get blown up like a balloon before, and I've always wondered what it would look like. Well, here goes."

By now, the handle of the pump was back at the top, and she pressed down hard on it.

"Ooh, this is quite a struggle actually. I suppose there's more pressure inside you now than before."

There certainly was. I was still panicking, and as she forced the pump handle down, I felt it build and build. I could hardly believe that I was lying here helpless and completely unable to do anything about this beautiful woman pumping me up like a balloon. I could see my belly swelling up right in front of me, and felt my skin stretching ever tighter as I actually began to inflate. I was astonished and overwhelmed to find my poor torso bloat out in all directions. I felt full to bursting point with gas, no space for anything inside me but my hugely distended lungs, stomach and intestine. I was stuffed with balloons, and they were all my organs, straining to burst free from inside my tightly stretched skin. How was I going to tell her that this was far too much for me? I looked at her pleadingly, straining against my bonds, and finally there was a glint of recognition in her eyes.

"Oh dear, are you feeling a little uncomfortable? Oh!" she gasped, "of course!" She went over to the drawer again and fetched what turned out to be a syringe.

"I forgot to give you your muscle relaxant! You must be getting horrible cramps. I should have known, you're nowhere near big enough for someone with ten gallons of gas inside you. Well, we'll soon get that sorted."

For a moment, I thought she was going to prick me with the syringe and pop me like a balloon, but actually she only injected me in the arm.

"This won't take a second. Your muscles will soon relax and then you can just take the gas in nicely."

Very quickly, I felt myself go floppy, and with that, my belly was forced out even more by the huge pressures inside me. The air had a sort of insistence about it, pushing me out in all directions, and I felt like I was on display. I was now also paralysed, and there was literally nothing I could do but lie there and let her pump more and more gas into me until she decided to stop. What could I do now to tell her what I was going through? Didn't she understand that I was going to pop like a balloon if she went on much longer? I couldn't even look pleadingly at her any more. And it wasn't even halfway to being over.

Once again, the pump handle was at the top. I thought about the fact that it was going to have to go down five times before she was finished with me, and even the mere two surges of gas that had been pumped into me already had made me looklike a pregnant woman with full-term full-size triplets inside her. She walked over to it, then turned to look at me and, to my surprise, she started to smirk, and then to giggle.

"Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Sorry, i - ha! - just couldn't (smirk) contain myself! You just look so funny! You're just so big and fat with gas, like a human balloon! Ha! Contain myself! I suppose you're the one who must be finding that difficult now!"

Lisa collapsed in another fit of the giggles, this time falling on the pump handle with all her weight and forcing it down in one go. Suddenly, oxygen rushed into me and my whole body blew out even further in all directions. The stretching and bloating was enormous. My arms and legs were sticking straight out from my body and my mind was filled, like my body, with the incredible sensation of being vastly inflated. That was it, there was nothing I could do to stop her. She'd just go on pumping and pumping until I popped. I could feel my body straining against the almost untearable tight spandex of my suit. Surely the seams at least would rip in a second and she'd realise she'd inflated me too big?

She looked at me again, out of breath from giggling, and for a moment I thought she was going to notice what she'd done, but it seemed not. She collapsed into laughter again, and I looked at her pleadingly, willing her desperately not to fall onto the handle again, but no. She did it again, and once again a huge surge of gas came in. I became almost totally round this time, and unlike before I started to hear a terrifying new sound. I was creaking all over because I now really was on the brink of exploding. Surely I couldn't take any more of this? Bursting now would be a blessed relief. Anything to relieve me of the huge pressures within, even if it meant death. My head felt like a cork on a champagne bottle. I imagined it would shoot off when I finally popped. It really couldn't get any worse than this, could it? I looked and felt like i'd swallowed a huge beachball. My skin felt stretched so close to its limit that I imagined that if Lisa had shone a flashlight at my skin it would have been visible on the other side of my belly.

Then I looked at Lisa again. She was no longer laughing, but there was an evil grin on her face. If my heart hadn't been squeezed from all sides by my vastly ballooning organs, I'm sure it would have skipped a beat at this point. Then she spoke.

"Actually, 'sir'," and I could hear the quote marks in her contemptuous tone of voice, "there's no such thing as oxygen therapy. I've lured you here under false pretenses. All I really wanted was to find a man to blow up like a balloon until he burst, and you are that man. I wonder how it feels to be inflated to bursting point like you are now. Do you like it? Look at you! You're just a balloon now! That's all you are - just a hugely inflated balloon that's ready to pop at any moment. You're my plaything. I can do all I want to you, and you can't stop me. I could deflate you now if I wanted, it would be easy for me to pull out that hose or unplug your anus, but will I? Hmm, let me think. Um, no, I don't feel like doing that today. Right, let's carry on. Another five gallons of gas I think, don't you?"

No, please don't, I thought desperately to her, but clearly I was just her toy now. Was I going to pop now? I waited in terror for the final surge of oxygen to burst me. How could she do this? Couldn't she see I was about to burst? What did she think she was playing at? I would have trembled, but I couldn't move.

Please don't pop me Lisa! I thought desperately.

This was of no use to me of course. She pushed the plunger down one last time and I felt my body simply get firmer with the gas. There was no give left in me or the suit, and all that could happen was an increase in pressure. I steeled myself for the agony of bursting.

But it didn't come. I was now simply a human balloon, at the very limits of my inflatability, but amazingly, not bursting. She spoke again.

"You're my blow up toy now. What shall I do?" She walked over to me.

"That suit looks uncomfortably tight. It's probably the only thing that stops you from popping. I wonder what would happen if I unzipped it?"

She took hold of my zipper pull. I pleaded inwardly for her not to unzip me. I was totally under her power. The only thing that stood between me and popping now was the fact that my suit was zipped up. She flicked the zipper pull while looking thoughtfully.

"Will I or won't I? Hmm..."

There was a tense moment while she considered.

"I think I will actually."

Painfully slowly, tooth by tooth, she started to unzip me.

"I wonder how far I can undo this zipper before you pop. Well, we'll find out, won't we? I reckon we can go as far as the start of your belly. Let's see."

She jerked the zipper down to just above my stomach, and I felt everything inside me start to give. I was going to explode at any moment! Please no!

Then she stopped.

"How about I flip a coin? Yes, that seems fair." She produced a coin from her cleavage.

"Heads I make you burst, tails I zip you up again, OK?"

She flipped it, and it fell under the desk.

"Oh dear," she said sarcastically, "I wonder what it can be. I wonder if you're going to pop or not."

She felt around underneath the table. Even in my vastly inflated state and terror of imminent death, I still felt a thrill of excitement as she bent over and her buttocks and thighs were outlined so clearly in her spandex unitard. She found the coin and straightened up. She looked disappointed.

"Rats! It's tails. Well, I suppose I'll have to zip you up again, you lucky balloon you."

She grabbed the zipper pull and zipped my suit up again. I would have heaved a sigh of relief if I hadn't been totally stuffed with gas already.

"What should we do now then? Well, let's roll on."

She shoved my side and I fell off the couch, then she rolled me across the floor. I was clearly totally round now as I rolled very easily. I was acutely aware of her hands on my huge, spandex balloon of a body.

There was a mirror on the wall of the room, and for the first time since my transformation, I saw myself. I was amazed! I saw a huge, round, shiny purple ball with tiny looking limbs sticking out and an even tinier head at the top, with the hose still sticking in my mouth. I couldn't believe it was all me. There were wrinkles in various places, particularly along the course of my zipper, showing where my body and the suit was taking the pressure of all that gas inside me. I looked like a huge purple skippy ball covered in spandex.

She looked at the form I'd filled in again.

"Now let's see what else you asked for. Ah yes...acupuncture! Yes, that seems an excellent idea. Two minds with but a single thought."

She went in the drawer again, and retrieved a needle that was in no sense intended for acupuncture. It was more like a knitting needle, but as narrow as one used for sewing. I knew what she was planning and tried to shrink from her, uselessly.

"Well, you certainly look like a balloon now, so I wonder what would happen if I pricked you with this pin. Do you think you'd pop like a balloon? I wonder..."

She walked over to me, holding the needle up like a javelin.

"Ooh, I wonder if you'll pop inside your clothes or your clothes will pop as well. Let's see now, shall I stick it here," she said, pointing it at my chest, "or here?", pointing at my belly this time.

Would she really pop me? I was so scared now. She could just prick me with a pin, and I knew I would just burst like the balloon I was.

"It's really sharp you know, just feel it."

She rested the point on my skin just above where my navel had once been. It was indeed very sharp.

"All I have to do is to press it a little bit harder. What? You can't feel it? Maybe if I apply a little weight to it."

For a moment I thought Lisa was going to jab it into me and finish me off, but instead she just pressed it in a little more firmly. I was so terrified of bursting that I screwed up my eyes and steeled myself for the coming explosion, and actually started to tremble with fear. The vibration made ripples move across my tense body. She giggled excitedly at this, and her chest rose and fell quite rapidly, accentuating her generous and tightly-enclosed breasts.

"That's a nice touch. Ah yes! Touch - fingers - fingernails! I think it'll be a lot more fun if I use my fingernails for this, won't it?"

She started to stroke them across my belly.

"You see, this is where my fingernails come in so useful in my work. Ah now, yes, this is a much nicer idea. I can feel for the tightest spot, where your skin's under the most strain, then when I find it I can grab you there with my talons and puncture you, can't I? I've had a lot of practice with this, you know. Right now, let's see..."

She raked them harder. In spite of the fact that I was lying there, inflated to bursting point with gas, or maybe because of it, her touch was exquisitely sensual against my drum tight skin. She started to trace a seam up my left side with her finger.

"Wow, that's under so much strain, and yet it hasn't burst open. Rather like you really, isn't it? You must feel like you're about to burst at the seams too, mustn't you?"

Then she began to trace another seam, the one holding my now incredibly tightly stretched pants together.

"I expect the most tension is along here somewhere. Oh yes," she said as she poked a finger into the softer, slightly more yielding middle where my muscles had been forced apart by my ballooning body.

"I expect you're quite itchy there, aren't you?" she asked, scratching along the seam, and gradually pressing harder with her nails. "Well, I'm sure I can scratch that itch for you." Then she tried to grab hold of a lump of my belly with both hands, but nothing was going to give.

"Well I never, you must have lost weight. There's certainly nothing to grab here, is there?" she said as she dug her nails into my notvery yielding flesh. Actually, she seemed to be having quite a lot of difficulty getting any kind of purchase on it. Although I was so close to bursting, she didn't seem to be able to manage it for that very reason. She was clearly getting frustrated.

"What are we going to do to get you to burst? I just can't think."

She stood for a while, puzzled looking. I was of course still achingly full of air, and still utterly terrified, a vast balloon of a man, her helpless victim. Then an expression of inspiration flashed across her face. It made her look radiant. I could worship this woman, terrifying and murderous though she was.

"I know!" She was clearly very excited. "You know what you remind me of most? Not a balloon. Oh no, you're far too big for that now. No, no. You're not my balloon at all, you're my -SKIPPY BALL!"

Uh-oh. Now I knew what she had in mind, and she was surely right. It couldn't fail, and I was powerless to stop her. She presented her black, unitarded bottom and legs to me and sat down heavily on my middle. My flanks bulged outward even more and for a moment I thought it must be the end, but although they made splintering noiseslike a balloon about to burst, I didn't. Even so, it was getting ever closer. She lifted her butt off me for a second before flopping onto me again, and I actually bounced! Our spandexsuits slid smoothly against each other as she came back into contact with me again. She went on and on, each time lifting herself higher before sitting on me again.

"You're -"

(bounce)

"My -"

(bounce)

"Bouncy -"

(bounce)

"SKIPPY BALL!!"

And this time she heaved herself even higher up and plonked herself violently down on my belly. Still I didn't pop, though the splintering noises were louder and more shocking than ever.

I couldn't help noticing that she was actually aiming her crotch at me rather than her buttocks now. Through a dazed mist, I vaguely remembered the rumours of what some women used skippy balls for.

She was sitting on me now, facing me and absently stroking my zipper with her hands between her legs, with an expression of utter bliss on her face. I was too huge for her feet actually to touch the floor even though her weight was compressing me. She shifted herself back a bit so that she was now sitting on what had once been the gap between my own legs and put her feet down. When she felt what was there, and the state it was in, she stopped and looked horrified.

"Oh, you little creep! I don't believe it! You mean, you've actually been - ENJOYING this?! Right!"

She stepped off me very suddenly and yanked the tube out of my mouth. Immediately, there began the longest and loudest belch in history as I finally began to deflate. I had survived being inflated to bursting point like a balloon.

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