2. Brianna’s Tale
We were having cheerleader practice on the football field; and as usual, we were being watched by some pathetic chubby kid named…Actually, I don’t remember his name now. Not important. Let’s just call him Billy. Billy the Blimp.
Anyway, our cheerleading captain was Rochelle, a buxom blonde with the most pronounced hourglass figure you’re likely to encounter. I’m not sure why I shared that detail, but I’m sure it’s significant. Billy seemed to be enjoying the view, watching us from the bleachers like some lovelorn puppy dog. We ran through a few routines, and then Rochelle called us over for a group huddle and told us her plan.
We ran through another cheering performance, one that included lots of hip gyrating, girl-on-girl contact, and ended with our lining up and pulling up our cheerleading skirts to expose our upper thighs. Billy practically drooled on himself, and it took all my willpower not to laugh.
We ended our bit and Rochelle called to Billy. “Hey, you! Come down here!”
Billy moved as fast as his girth could carry him. He panted at us, “Yeah?” and we could all smell the chips on his breath.
“The girls and I were talking,” Rochelle began, “and we all agreed that we like guys who have a little more…bulge on them.” She traced her finger down Billy’s round belly.
“Yeah, right,” he said skeptically, but he made no move to remove Rochelle’s finger. He looked around at the dozen hot, athletic young women; and, like all guys, was willing to forego any logical thinking if he could accept the possibility that even one of them would be willing to have sex with him.
“We were wondering…” Rochelle scanned the rest of the squad, feigning a bit of embarrassed hesitation. “We were wondering if you’d be willing to make yourself even bigger—you know, by blowing yourself up like a balloon!”
“Oh, very funny!” he said, rightfully cynical at this point.
“No, we’re serious! We talked it over, and we all thought that it would be really hot to see a guy get really…really…big!”
The rest of the squad and I nodded our heads forcefully, struggling to keep straight faces.
“Well, uh, how could I do that?” he finally asked. “That’s impossible.”
“No, just try it!” I urged him. “Just go like this…” I blew air but kept my lips closed, allowing my cheeks to puff up. I exhaled. “Just do that, but don’t let the air go. You can do it.”
“That won’t work!” he insisted.
We gathered closer, young, nubile bodies now all around him. “Oh, please!” I said. “Just do it for us! Here, we’ll cheer you on!”
And then we did some kind of cheer, using his real name, whatever the hell it was, but it went something like: “Blow, Billy, blow! Blow, Billy, blow! Go, go, go! Blow, Billy blow!”
He looked us over again, twelve amazing pairs of legs in short skirts, before he inhaled and puffed up his cheeks. We kept cheering: “Blow, Billy, blow! Go, go, go!”
We all started giggling at the expression on his face when Billy went from obese to comically ballooned in an instant, a hiss of air rounding out his back and sides to match his belly, his arms and legs becoming bloated, but firm instead of flabby. His arms stuck out at 45º angles, resting on his blimping sides. He stopped and stared at his inflated figure, and we could see he was a little freaked. We couldn’t have that.
Rochelle stepped up and rubbed his rounded chest. “Oooo! Feel him, girls! He’s so soft, like a balloon!” And just like that, twelve pairs of hands began feeling Billy up. We saw his face turn red, and giggled a bit more, but his ego was inflated as well.
“Can you get bigger?” I asked him.
“I can try,” he said. I exchanged a knowing glance with Rochelle as Billy puffed up his cheeks again…and nothing happened. “It’s not working,” he said, dispiritedly.
“Keep trying,” Rochelle encouraged him. “Here, we’ll help by cheering you on.”
And we started up with our cheers again: “Blow, blow! Don’t go slow! Show us just how big you’ll grow!”
And like that, he got bigger, doubling his circumference in a few seconds. His arms were now at 90º degree angles, sticking out of a big round ball. We cheered and clapped excitedly. “This feels cool!” he said, and I’m pretty sure he was talking about both the inflation and the adulation.
“Bigger! Bigger!” we chanted.
And he ballooned even larger. The state of his arms was a moot question, as all that was left of them was his stubby hands. Presumably his stubby feet were sticking out from underneath, but we could no longer see them, his round body totally covering them up. He paused again, and we all stopped to clap.
Then I told him, “Wait a minute!” The group of us rapidly formed a human pyramid. I climbed on top and stretched my arms to the sky, allowing my shirt to pull up a bit, exposing my midriff. “Can you get this big, Billy?”
“Oh, yeah!” he said excitedly. “I can be as big as that! In fact, I can be even bigger than all of you together!”
“So what are you waiting for?” I called back to him, and we all chanted: “Puff! Puff! Show your stuff! You just can’t get big enough!”
And our Billy-balloon billowed out bigger, inflating until he could see over the top of my head. “I’m so big! Look at me! I’m the biggest boy in school! And I’m going to be even bigger!”
“So do it!” I said, and we shouted, “Blow until you reach the moon! Pump it up, you big balloon!”
He swelled even larger, and soon he was as high as the bleachers. And then even higher!
“Blow, blow, don’t slow down! Pump yourself up nice and round!”
We could barely be heard over the sounds of the hissing air and rubbery squeaks coming from his balloon body, as he got ever bigger, now inflating so big that he was nearing the field lights!
“Yes!” Billy called out to us, or to the heavens. “I’m the biggest balloon ever! Look at how big I am! And I’ll get even bigger!”
And he did, as we shouted, “Two, four, six, eight! Puff again and you’ll inflate!”
He loomed over the football field as he pumped up and up and up…
“Bigger than the highest tree! Bigger even than a mountain—blow as big as you can be!”
He stretched out further, getting larger and larger, turning red from the strain, his growth slowing as it took more and more air to make a noticeable difference…
“Bigger! Larger! More immense! Bigger than the continents!” (Okay, at this point, we were running on empty.)
But Billy seemed to be reaching his limits, too. He had stopped blowing and was instead looking nervously down at us. “I think I’m big enough now, girls!”
“That’s it?” I said, sounding disappointed. “You can’t get any bigger than that?”
“I’d like to,” he admitted. “But I feel so tight, like I’m gonna burst! I want to get bigger, but I don’t want to pop!”
“Awww,” we all said in a group groan. “You won’t get a little big bigger? Not even for us?”
“Girls, I’m serious! I can’t get any bigger! I’m sorry if you’re disappointed, but I’m not going to pop for you!”
I smirked. “Oh, that’s where you’re wrong.”
“W-what?” he said, probably noticing the change in tone the conversation was taking.
“You think you could just blow yourself up by puffing up your cheeks?” I asked him. “What, are you some kind of idiot?! You weren’t blowing yourself up, balloon-boy! It was our cheers that were making you bigger!”
Billy took a moment to process that while we started laughing at him. After we calmed down enough to hear him, he asked, “S-so, how do plan to get me deflated?”
“Deflated, nothing!” said Rochelle. “You’re gonna burst!”
“No, don’t!” Billy said.
But the cheers already began: “Blow, blow, don’t ever stop! Keep inflating till you pop!”
“Please!” he said, getting dangerously bigger, the squeaks getting louder, his skin turning redder.
“Listen to this rhyming verse! Puff and puff until you burst! Burst, burst, burst!!”
“Ooohhh…!” His body grew ever so slightly, trembling from the strain.
“Two, four, six, eight! You are going to overinflate! Pop, pop, pop, POP!!”
As if on cue, his body reached its limits.
BOOM!!
Then we all went out for pizza.
****
Kitty sighed. “Nice one,” she said. “But I can’t believe that he was the best balloon you ever popped.”
“Well,” said Brianna, smiling, “I guess I’ve had a few good balloons since then. But I see Baby’s point: After you’ve popped a few hundred men, I suppose the rush diminishes.”
“Geez,” said Baby, “how many men have we popped between the three of us?”
The ladies did a few quick calculations and arrived at 998 men.
“Wait,” said Baby. “Did we count the two men we popped since we came in here?”
“Nope,” said Kitty. “So that’s a thousand.”
“Oh, that won’t do,” said Brianna. She suddenly got up from the bar and walked out the door. Outside was a male patron who, having overheard enough from the three ladies to know he was in imminent danger, decided to head out to his car. “Hey!” Brianna called out to him.
The man froze and spun around to face the tall, dark-skinned beauty.
“Blow up like a balloon until you pop!” she ordered him.
The man immediately began to inflate. “I gotta get to work!” he protested, but Brianna was already heading back to the bar.
“Where did you go?” asked Kitty.
“Just wait,” said Brianna, holding up a finger.
They waited for a moment. Suddenly from outside came a loud explosion, sounding like thunder in the parking lot. Brianna sighed. “1001, my friends!”
Baby grinned. “Okay, I still love that sound,” she admitted. “But how about you, Kitty? We haven’t heard your first popping story!”
“Well, it’s like this…” said Kitty, stroking her chin. The world went all blurry and wavy…
3. Kitty’s Tale
I plugged an air hose into my boyfriend’s navel, and I kept pumping and pumping until he exploded.
****
“That was the lamest inflation story I ever heard,” Baby whined.
“Hey!” said Kitty, shrugging. “I just said that it was the first guy I popped. I didn’t say it made a great story.”
“You must have a better one than that,” Brianna coaxed.
“Actually, I do,” said Kitty, beaming again with a warm, wonderful smile that revealed a certain amount of mischief as well. “I was a blossoming young woman, and I had just learned how to combine my love of popping balloons and popping men…”
She rubbed her chin, and the world went all blurry and wavy…