I knew that I had it in me to be a writer. I'd done some articles for my college paper a couple of years ago, and I'd even won some creative writing contest held by the local news. I even knew the subject I wanted to write about; I should, since I was using it to come to terms with who I was.
It was weird, yes. Maybe a little perverse. But it was all harmless, and as long as nobody was hurt I kept going back to the same sites, looking at the same pictures, enjoying feeling those stirrings in me while simultaneously loathing myself for enjoying them. I would have clear scenarios as I lay in bed at night with my eyes closed, hoping to convince my brain to give me a dream that titillated me as it would make me a pariah if it ever became known among my friends.
Still, I couldn't bring myself to let myself into what little community existed around it. I would always be an outsider, passively consuming, never contributing. I wiped my caches and cookies regularly, never used pay sites, and used generic-sounding codes for the free ones. I was being so careful never to betray myself, until I realized that nobody cared. I could be free, and I could do something... But every time I started, I fell short and closed my word processor in frustration.
After yet another night of crippling writer's block, I put my head down in my arms when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I sat bolt upright and spun in my chair, whacking the armrest against my desk and causing a small avalanche of paper. A woman stood before me, dressed in a loose toga-like robe that wrapped around her waist and chest, hanging down over her legs and leaving her arms bare. From what I could see through the folds in the material, she wore sandals with thin strips that crossed and crossed again up her calves to her knees. Her skin was bronze, and she wore what looked like a ring of leaves in her thick black hair. She looked at me with startlingly blue eyes, then smiled broadly and spread her arms.
“There is one thing that all creators need,” she declared, before I could even stammer a question about who she was or even how she'd gotten in my room, “and that is inspiration.”
“Wh-Who are you!? How'd you get in my room!?” I gasped, without any originality.
The woman cocked her head slightly, then dropped her arms and sighed.
“Gods, look at this!” she said. “What do you think I am?”
“I don't know... A crazy woman in my house wearing a sheet?”
The woman narrowed her eyes. “Funny.” She walked the few paces to my bed and sat down, crossing her legs primly and placing her hands on her knee. “I'm your Muse.”
“You're a figment of my imagination.”
“Same difference. Don't you know anything about history?” She cheered up and took on a lecturing tone. “Ever since ancient times, creative people needed ideas before they were able to do anything of worth. Sometimes it would be a sunset, sometimes a great battle...”
“...and sometimes a mysterious woman?”
“More times than you'd think.” She stood up and drew closer to me. “Whatever the actual scene of the inspiration was, it was believed that spirits or minor goddesses would place those thoughts in the creators' heads.”
“The Muses.” I had stayed awake during junior high history. “Aren't there only a few of them?”
“Oh, no!” she laughed. “Well, there are a few main ones, but they're all generalities. Like 'music' or 'pottery.' Those concepts cover a lot of ground! No, for specific ideas, there are untold numbers of us sneaking into people's minds and placing that little seed that grows into a big idea.”
“And... You're here for me?” I hadn't quite discounted the idea that this was a crazy woman, and began scooting my chair slowly towards the door.
“Oh, yes. And you need a major kick to get your motor running.”
“Isn't that a pretty modern metaphor for an ancient conceptual pseudodeity?”
“Get with the program!” she blurted. “I, that is, ME, am here to give you, that is, YOOOOU, the idea, to write THAAAAT.” She punctuated this by pointing from herself to me to the still-blank text window on my computer monitor, the cursor blinking steadily at the top of a white expanse.
“Okay... So why are you, that is, YOOOU, here in my room instead of popping pretty pictures into my head?”
“Because,” she said leaning down and looking into my eyes with a mischievous smile, “You need one hell of a mental image.”
“How do you know what I'm going to write about?”
She leaned in close to me, putting her lips to my ear, and whispered, “Ssssss...”
Panicked, I pushed her away from me and stood up. “How...? How do you know what I--”
She laughed again. “Hello? Muse?” She straightened up and put one hand on my shoulder. “Both you and I know what you want to write about. You just need motivation.”
I looked down, my cheeks burning. “You're here to help me write about...” My had to try three times to get the word out, and when it came, it was weak and shivering: “Inflation?”
She smiled patiently and nodded. “It takes all kinds. Hey, you know 'erotic' comes from 'Eros,' the god of physical lust?”
I was still stunned from being able to admit the name of my kink to another person... if she even was a person. “How do I know you're here? Maybe I'm dreaming, or, or finally snapped from sexual repression or something.”
“Look, if I'm here, I'm here to help you do something we both know you want to do. And if I'm not here, then you're doing it yourself so you might as well stop talking yourself in circles and do it already.” She folded her arms triumphantly and sat on the bed again. “So what do you say?”
There was little I could say to argue. It was all too outlandish to be real. Still, if she was right and I was making it up, than I really ought to just ride the wave and let the dream go on. “Okay.”
“Good!” she chirped. She reached under the bed and pulled out a large canister that I knew for a fact had never been there before. She caught my expression and just said “Muse” again with a grin. A long, thin hose was attached to the nozzle, and it was clear that the tank contained some kind of gas under pressure.
“Okay, here's how it's going to go,” she said. “I'll get started, and and you just let your mind take it all in, right?” I swallowed and nodded.
She reached out and tapped my forehead “You already know how this should go. It's in here. We're just going to let it out.”
“Not like Athena let herself out, right?” I asked nervously.
“Nice reference! But no.” She laughed once more and put the end of the hose in her mouth, holding it in the corner of her lips with one hand and putting her other on the wheel of the canister. “Are we ready?”
I took a few deep breaths, then let my gaze travel up and down her slim body until I locked eyes with hers. “Ready.”
“Awesome.” She twisted the wheel slightly, and a slight hissing noise filled the room.
For the first few moments, nothing happened aside from the hissing of the gas and the Muse's deep breathing. I held my own breath.
When it started, she placed the hand that had been on the canister over her midsection and closed her eyes contentedly. “Ahh...” she sighed, running her hand up and down over her toga. “A belly man to begin with, huh?”
I leaned over, holding my hand out hesitantly. “How does it feel?”
“It feels like what you want me to feel. Thank you, by the way. Sometimes the creator wants it to be painful or frightening. This is like... sitting in a jacuzzi that's so hot you can barely stand it, letting the bubbles run all over you. Except they're on the inside, and it feels amazing.” She opened her eyes to see me standing so close to her, then took my hand and held it against her stomach. I felt it pushing against me softly, her skin slowly but steadily puffing out.
I licked my dry lips before asking, “Could I... see it?”
“Oh! How forgetful of me. Of course you'll want to see this.” She began unwrapping her toga, each layer revealing more and more of her gradual swell until she sat in a rather modern bra and panties with the slight curve of a new belly cresting above the waistband of her underwear. Her midriff bulged not just to the front, but to the sides as well.
“Is this what you want?” she asked, keeping the hose in her mouth while she leaned back on her elbows, slowly but visibly expanding.
“Yes...” I whispered, feeling the familiar stirrings of a thousand crude jpegs.
“Then it'll happen. It's going to happen like you've been imagining it all along, and--oh!” She put a hand on her right breast and cupped it lightly. “Looks like you're getting to the breasts. They always go with the boobs...”
“You said something like that earlier... Have you done this before?” I softly held her other breast and felt the skin starting to press against my fingers.
“A few. I'm not, like, the official patron of wet balloon dreams or anything,” she laughed. “But, this isn't my first time, either. You're holding up well. Your fantasy's a good one.”
“Um... Thanks.” I was having trouble speaking, and I didn't want her to see the tightness of my own crotch.
She sighed again and lay back on the bed, running both hands on either side of the slight mound of her belly. I saw the waistband of her panties beginning to leave an indentation all the way around her. Her sides were growing outwards as well, and I could see her thighs beginning to thicken as the gas built up within then.
“Mmm... Belly, breasts, and now the bottom. You know how to treat a girl.” She winked and rolled onto her belly to better show me what she knew I was thinking of. Her buttocks was swelling larger and larger, causing her panties to shift as her body grew steadily beneath them. I placed a hand on each cheek, then impulsively squeezed and pushed her down into the bed.
“Hey!” she gasped, “Not so rough. Not yet, anyway.” She reached back and took my hand again, then began stroking her growing ass. She moaned quietly and muttered, “Silk on tight skin...” then rolled onto her back again. “Can you see how much bigger I'm getting?”
“How could I miss it?” I said, rubbing her belly with one hand while running the other up and down one engorged thigh. “How much... How much bigger will you get?”
“That's the question, isn't it?” she asked, looking pointedly at me. “The answer to that is another question: How much bigger do you want me to get?”
I probably looked pathetic, trembling slightly as she sat there so confidently with her body still steadily expanding with every passing second. “How much bigger... can you get?”
She rocked back on her swollen glutes, laughing heartily; a true belly laugh. Her body shook and continued to grow as she gulped for breath. “Now you're getting it! You know what's going to happen. You just need to admit it and let it happen instead of acting surprised the entire time. This is your creation!” With that, she reached over and turned the wheel on the canister again, causing the hissing to increase in volume.
As the new rush of gas flowed into her, she reached behind her and undid her bra. Her breasts surged out of their restraints, quickly filling to become quivering orbs that rested on her massive belly.
Even then, it wouldn't be right to call what she now had a belly--the entire lower half of her torso was starting to become a globe of its own, with thighs as large as her entire waist had once been pressing together beneath her to taper down to her otherwise only slightly swollen calves. The straps of her sandals pressed against her skin, leaving a diamond pattern of flesh that curved out of each opening. Her panties were performing admirably, but as her waist expanded in all directions the waistband finally parted ways and the silk slid down her curves to the bed. Her breasts were nearly spherical themselves, but compared to the sheer size of her body they were almost afterthoughts.
As the waistband to the underpants snapped, the Muse shuddered with a pleased groan and dialed the wheel back down to its original rate, then held the hose in one hand and kinked it shut, leaving it trailing into her mouth. “I know what you're looking for, and the hard X rating isn't it. Let me try for a little modesty. Hold this.”
She pressed the kinked hose into my hand and shuffled off of the bed until she could stand on her own feet, facing away from me. Her giant buttocks bulged out to either side of her incredibly wide hips before being enveloped by her now practically spherical torso. With some difficulty, she picked up her toga from the bed and began to wrap it around herself again, making two tight winds about her waist. Before she began to swell, she had been wrapped in over half a dozen folds of loose cloth, but now the material was cinched tightly around her, tucked between her legs almost like a sumo wrestler. She'd apparently given up on trying to contain her breasts, or perhaps she simply needed all the cloth she could just to make it around her hips.
I watched her work, slowly reaching her hands over and around her hugely swollen body, and I looked from her to the kinked hose, still in my hand. As I did, she began to run her fingers up and down what she could reach of her sides, slowly tracing the curve of one massive buttock. I then saw her reflection in the computer monitor: the hose still in her mouth, she was smiling as she watched me in my indecisiveness. She knew what I was thinking. She'd said so several times. Doing this now wouldn't be a betrayal of trust--it would be taking control of the situation, moving from a passive observer to a direct manipulator of what was going on.
I looked straight into the reflections of her eyes and let go of the hose. She nodded and closed her eyes with a smile as the hissing resumed once more.
Her rear end continued to expand, slowly pushing the newly-wrapped toga aside. The bulging flesh to her sides began to strain at her new belt, but she had tied it in such a way that the more pressure her midsection applied, the more snugly it held her.
“Do you know what you've done?” she asked kindly, turning to face me and presenting me with the sight of her whole form, bloated to almost-spherical proportions.
“I've made this mine. My vision.”
“You've made me yours.” she stepped forward again, nuzzling me with her swollen body, then suddenly thrust her hips forward, knocking me backwards onto the bed as she steadied herself from the collision. “I'm not going to pretend that I don't know what you're thinking. And you want this story.”
I was lying on my back, but in another very clear sense I was still standing tall. I shucked my pants as I pulled myself into a sitting position. “I want this to be happening. Not just in my head.”
“Maybe it is real. If it's in your head, you don't know the difference.” She stood before me, curving off in all directions, the globe of her torso pulling against the wrap around her. She reached towards me with both hands, barely able to stretch her arms to either side of her belly. When I took her hands, I pulled her towards me until I was pressing myself totally against her, my head buried between her breasts, cradling her bulk with my entire body.
“Then I'm going to make it happen.”
I stood up, turning slowly and laying her--well, rolling her backwards--onto the bed. Even though she was lying down, her belly rose to the height of my chest. I had to lean over her to look past her breasts and see her face. She smiled brightly and stroked the underside of one massive breast with one hand, the finger of her other trailing the hose that continued pumping whatever supernatural substance she was filling with.
I tugged experimentally at the robe, but I could barely get my fingers between her skin and the cloth. “I need to get you out of this.”
Even though I could only see the top of her head from where I was standing, a rhythmic bounce of her upper body likely meant she was shrugging. “There's more than one way to get a girl out of a dress,” she said.
“That's right. And here's another.” I followed the hose to the gas canister and gave the wheel a firm turn. The hissing intensified, even louder than it had been she had turned it up before. The Muse made a noise halfway between a gasp, a laugh, and a moan, and I could see her beginning to grow ever larger.
Suddenly, her legs clamped around my waist, pinning me between her enormous thighs and holding me tightly against her swollen groin. I gasped myself as my crotch brushed the soft skin of her inner thigh, though the robe still held fast against the assault from within, a few layers of thin cloth between me and my fantasy. I gently rubbed the sides of her legs and hips and heard more quiet moans of pleasure from the other side of the ridiculously inflated woman's belly.
Her body continued to expand, and the material of the robe began to slide down between her legs and her buttocks, becoming the world's largest G-string. Her growth began to push her gigantic thighs aside, as the pressure between them forced her legs apart. With her ankles locked behind my back, she had me caught as the gas caused her thighs and crotch to push against me.
The robe was still a taut band around her equator, a ridge running the full diameter of her massive body. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the knot in the cloth gave with a tearing sound. Her body actually bounced off the bed slightly as the forces within her equalized, and I pulled the robe out from between us. Now that the robe was out of the way, the increased flow of gas was causing her to inflate more quickly, and I pressed myself into her firm yet pillowy form.
“Wait,” she whispered. I saw one hand flail blindly to the side as she pulled the canister towards her and twisted the wheel back, lowering the hiss to a barely audible sibilant. “Slower,” she gasped. “Makes it last longer.”
I knelt on the bed and tried to pull her towards me, one hand on either of her thighs. Her legs clenched again, but the new bulge of her groin between her legs kept them from being able to close around me. I traced myself around her with my eyes closed, feeling an amazing rush of exhilaration, before thrusting myself into her.
Well, almost. When I pushed my hips forward, it only served to push her over the bed, sliding her across the mattress and out of my range. I reflexively rocked forward and back a couple of times in the air before noticing that I had failed to make entry.
I knee-walked closer before trying again, and once more only succeeded in pushing her inflated form away from me. By this time, the Muse had realized what was happening and began bellowing with laughter, her entire body quaking with mirth. She twisted off the bed and actually rolled on the floor, fetching up upside down against the wall, still laughing hysterically.
I jumped off the bed, humiliated, and helped her right herself. “I'm sorry,” I mumbled, my face crimson.
“No... Don't be,” she said, still stifling a guffaw. “Just help me stand.”
I took her hands and pushed her up against the wall until she could get her swollen legs beneath her rounded body. She stood bowlegged, the curve of her torso and groin coming together in a smooth curve between her thighs and meeting her buttocks on the other side. Every part of her, other than her head, neck, hands, and feet, was becoming rounder and rounder, still swelling and inflating where she stood.
She sumo-pushed me slightly with her immense belly. “You get on the bed this time,” she said in a voice the brooked no disobedience. “I'll handle the mechanics.”
Confused, I did as she asked, then took another look at her and tried to see what she was thinking. “How can you make us work? I couldn't even do it!”
“You've gotten me this far,” she said with a smile. “I'm not going to let it end until you're done.”
I watched the Muse waddle towards me, her body rotating back and forth with every step she took. The woman's completely bloated body, hips swaying, belly slowly gyrating, with a hungry look in her eye, was possibly the most sensual approach I had ever witnessed. My erection, which had wilted somewhat in the embarrassment of the situation moments before, once again surged upwards.
She reached the edge of the bed and tipped herself onto her belly, pushing against the floor and rocking into an upright position. She was on her knees, but her thighs were forced far apart and she was really resting on the swollen flesh between her legs. Like someone on crutches, she made a series of short hops from her knees, each time coming back down on her expanded groin. Her breasts heaved with each hop, bouncing up and down, but her belly remained taut and motionless. With one final hop, she landed straddling me, one leg on either side, balanced by her crotch on my legs. I could feel the curve of her enormous buttocks against my shins as she shifted.
“Luckily, you weren't imagining helium,” she said, “so this'll work. I'm going to need some cooperation from you, though.” She winked.
Without saying a word, I lifted my legs, and now she stood on the bed, the massive ball of her body hanging above me, her face hidden behind the curvature of her belly. I reached out and traced a finger along the inside of one hugely swollen thigh, and I heard her giggle girlishly. “Okay,” she said. “I'm coming down. I need you to guide me.”
“Right,” I said, suddenly nervous again. She began to lower herself onto me, the vast swell of her coming closer and closer. I coaxed her bulging body down onto me, and then I was in her.
The feeling was intense and highly sexual in a way that I can only fail spectacularly to describe. I bucked by reflex, almost throwing her off again, and guided her back onto me with a hand on either slightly thickened ankle. We sat there momentarily. I was breathing shallowly, trying to keep myself from blowing too soon but wanting to feel everything of this amazing experience. The Muse gasped and moaned, and instead of trying to ride me or grind against me began to slowly twist back and forth, spinning on me even as she still slowly swelled from the gas passing through the hose.
The sensation was overwhelming, the sheer tightness of her, gripping me softly yet with an incredible firmness. I almost let myself be lost in it, but I knew it could get even stronger. With one hand attempting to hold onto her leg, I reached with my other and found the wheel on the air canister.
The squeak of the wheel and the louder hissing caused her eyes to fly open. Her belly and thighs renewed their growth, and I shuddered as I felt something like being caught in a vice lined with inches of velvet.
“No!” she shouted, reaching out and kinking the hose to cut off the gas invading her. “Think! Remember what's happening to you, and to me, right now. Use those thoughts and those feelings. Keep your eyes open. You can't let yourself get lost in this ecstasy before you know how to describe it.”
I managed to smile weakly, still straining to hold myself back. “I guess... true art does come from suffering.”
She grinned. “True suffering... would be to vanish right now, leaving you alone with the most powerful boner you've ever had and nothing to show for it. No more of this,” and she worked some interior muscle that left me gasping. “You would go back to being just some guy who dreamed he was fucking a balloon with tits.”
“To me honest,” I said, “I was much more interested in your legs and ass instead of your breasts.”
She winked. “I know. I felt it happening. I felt your mind racing, your fantasy coming to life in me.” Another invisible inner tweak accompanied her words 'coming to life.' I tried to remain motionless and caress a bulging thigh, but I groaned against her bulk as her tiniest movements caused subtle changes of friction.
“However...” she trailed off.
“However...?”
“I can tell when you know what you need to know. When you've got what you need in your mind to create your work. When, in fact, I've my purpose here is over.”
“No...” I gasped, running both hands against her belly where it stretched about above me. “You'll leave me if I enjoy it, and you'll leave me if I think about it!? Was this all some incredible cocktease?”
“I didn't say that,” she said. “I can tell when my job is done.” She let go of the hose. “But I love my job,” she continued, against the rising hiss and the intensifying pressure gripping us both, “and I like overtime.”
As we grow older, there are certain things that will always trigger a momentary flash of remembrance, bypassing the thinking mind and directly stimulating that happy place in your mind with the feelings you felt when you first experienced them. The way light falls on a certain patch of carpet on a winter's morning, the smell of something you used to enjoy in your youth... the sound you heard when your deepest, most hidden fantasies came to life.
For me, it was the hiss of a certain gas canister, one I had never heard before nor in the years after that one magical experience. I'm not sure how to describe it in a way that makes sense, but I can try to do it in ways that don't. While it sounded like any normal helium tank, this one had carried in it the sound of purpose, a promise of something great to come. It was like the way a roaring jet of flame inflating the limp shape of a hot air balloon on the ground foretells great round shapes drifting stately through the sky, but smaller, more intense, more personal. I had heard that imposing ethereal hiss occasionally in my dreams, and as time went by the more convinced I became that the very first time I had heard it had been in a dream as well; the events that had transpired that night were too impossible to be real.
So you can imagine my surprise when I heard it again, and the memories and sensations of what had happened came leaping to my mind and spun me around in my chair. It was her. The Muse.
She had come to me one night, an agent of creative forces, to crack my writer's block and allow me to write a piece of inflation fiction that I had been proud of. I'd dabbled in it once or twice afterward, but after that moment of catharsis I had known what I was capable of. While I hadn't done much writing like that since then, knowing that I could do it was more reassuring to me than actually doing it. There's probably something deeply egotistical about that, but there I go, psychoanalyzing myself again.
When I heard the hiss, I was sitting at my computer in much the same way I'd been the first time she appeared. I sat bolt upright and spun my chair around, cracking my knee against the side of my desk but too stunned to do anything but stare. She looked the same to me as I remembered her from years ago, with deep blue eyes set in a thin, smiling face, topped with a mass of thick black hair. The color of her eyes matched that of the stone set in the thin silver necklace around her throat. The Muse was wearing a toga-like wrap, full of intricate folds and dramatic draping swatches of linen. She sat at the foot of my bed, one leg stretched out to the floor and the other held up, knee bent, like a pin-up girl painted on the nose of some sort of ancient Greco-Roman fighter-bomber. One hand held her curled leg, and the other held the end of a hose leading to a silver canister. She squeezed and released the end of the hose quickly, releasing two quick bursts of gas, like a mocking salute.
“I knew that'd catch your attention,” she said, reaching over with her free hand to close the valve on the tank. “Remember me?”
I needed a moment to recover from this woman suddenly appearing in my room, but I had been dreaming of this moment (literally, sometimes) and was quick on the uptake. “I... Well, how could I not?”
“You never forget your first, right?” she asked with a wink. “By which, I mean your first story. I'm not insinuating anything otherwise.”
“Thanks for that.” I sat on the bed next to her and took the hose from her, examining it as I let the memories of this woman's last visit flow past my mind's eye. “Look, what are you doing here? I mean, I'm certainly not complaining, but I haven't been trying and failing to write any inflato-porn lately. I haven't seen you in forever, and I don't think I was sending any SOS signals your way.”
“Well,” she said, “You're wrong about that in three ways. First, you have seen me. You just don't remember.” She leaned in close to me, brushing her breast against my shoulder, and plucked the hose from my unresisting hand.
“Secondly, inspiration doesn't need your permission to strike. It just happens to the right mind at the right time, and Muses like me make sure it happens.” She placed the end of the hose in her mouth and gave he valve on the canister a quick one-two twist, letting a single puff of gas into her body. The sound of the tank and the way her robe shifted subtly around her as her body grew slightly larger somewhere deep within its folds sent lightning-hot bolts down my spine. I was suddenly erect and filled with a powerful desire to see more, remembering the way her body had swelled under my hand as that same gas had distended her form. She chuckled slightly and put one hand on my leg as she removed the hose from her mouth with the other. “See? It just happens. You can't stop it. You can ignore it and let it go to waste, but you can't fight creative inspiration when it comes.”
“Okay. So you're here because I'm destined to write another story?”
“Not quite. The third reason you're wrong is that I'm not here for you. I'm here for her.” She lifted her head to point behind me with her chin.
I turned, surprised, to see another woman lounging indifferently in the computer chair I had just vacated. While my Muse (as I suddenly thought of her) was somewhat dusky, this newcomer was fair, verging on pale. Her blond hair spilled down her back in a loose braid, and her toga was less ornamental and more provocative, with a higher hemline that was almost a skirt and a lower neckline which revealed the swell of her bosom. Where the woman I knew was stately and comforting, the new girl's attitude seemed dismissive, almost insulting, in how casual she appeared to be. She tossed me a brief wave and said “Hey,” with a lack of inflection calculated for maximum carelessness.
“Uh... Hi.” I turned back to the first woman. “You don't need me, but you're here for her? Care to give me any kind of clue what's going on?”
“Perhaps you may have noticed from your internet browsing, but there's more of a following for this particular brand of fantasy than there was a few years ago. With more demand for an idea comes more creation, which requires more inspiration.”
The blond woman got up from the chair and sat on my other side on the bed. “In a nutshell, there are more of you inflationist weirdos out there, and more of us have to start putting thoughts in mortals' heads because of it.”
“I didn't know being a Muse was like that,” I said. “I thought new ones would just appear or something.”
The dark-haired Muse shrugged. “That happens sometimes, but in this case we're shifting the workload around. I don't think we've had a special-purpose Muse of Inflation show up. I'd have heard of her, since she'd become my boss.”
The blonde shook her head. “In any case, now my duties entail getting blown up for the likes of you. Yay.” She spun a finger the air in mock celebration.
I was unconvinced. “You sound like you're not thrilled about the idea. Why not get someone who, I don't know... enjoys the job?” I let my hand sneak a few inches and briefly stroked the darker Muse's leg at that, and she chuckled.
The new Muse shrugged. “I'm not completely uninvolved. I've been an inspirational figure for big-tit fantasies, which would sometimes involve letting them get bigger in real time. So when it came time for someone to 'branch out,' so to speak, I got tapped for the task.”
I gave her a critical look. “You're not exactly huge in the BE area...”
“Well, I'm not going to walk around like that all the time, am I?” she sneered. “I do it because it's the job, and I can't argue with the forces above. Doesn't mean I have to cream myself whenever it happens.”
“It sounds like there's some humiliation fantasy involved in that, too.”
“Stop trying to figure me out, human. You think our minds work like yours?”
I looked over at the raven-haired Muse, who rolled her eyes and patted me on the knee. “Anyway, she is going to be taking on the duties of a full-body inflation Muse, and she needs to be shown the ropes.”
“Or the hoses.” I couldn't resist.
“'Or the hoses!'” the blonde muttered, turning away and crossing her arms. “Oh, for fuck's sake, if this is the caliber of wit we've got to work with--”
“That's enough!” the original Muse cut in sharply. “Let me finish explaining the situation.” She turned to me and took my hands in hers. “I chose you for this because I've been in your fantasies. Your visions are gentle and a good first run for a newcomer to the field.” She then leaned in close and her voice dropped to a confidential whisper. “...Also, I know the way your desires work. You like the girl to enjoy blowing up. If we let your dream be the one that guides us here, maybe she'll stop being such a bitch about this whole thing when she starts to like it.”
I had to smile at that. Certainly, the new Muse wasn't enthusiastic about her new duties. But the dark-haired woman was right; I did enjoy pictures and stories in which the inflatee took pleasure in the act. I could see why she'd turn to me for this.
I nodded. “Okay. So, she's just going to blow up, and I'm going to imagine her blowing up?”
“Pretty much. I'm here to coach her along. You get the idea. Any other questions?”
“Yeah, one more thing. Is there anything I can call you? I don't want to have to call you two 'the original dark-haired one' and 'the new blonde one' forever.”
“Interesting...” she said with a wry smile. “Why do you need a way to tell us apart aside from your eyes? Perhaps we're already having stimulating your creativity? Well, in any case, you can refer to me as Auria, and her as Omastia.”
“Don't look too much into it,” she added. “Surprising as it may sound, we're not all that creative when it comes to naming ourselves.”
“Okay. Why don't you get started, then?”
The second Muse, Omastia, turned back to us and crossed her arms under her breasts. “I don't want to do this with you both just ogling me. How do I know it's safe?”
Auria stood up and picked up the gas canister. With some magic touch, she ran the hose through her hand, and suddenly instead of one hose, she was holding three, joined together at the base.
“I'll tell you what,” she said. “Since this is your first time, I'm not going to make you get really big. We'll put enough in you to get the idea of the experience, so you can feel yourself grow.” She took one of the three hoses she held and offered it to Omastia. “If it makes you feel any better, let's make a deal. I'll take these two hoses, and you take one. That way, I'll be taking in twice as much as you will, and prove to you that it's safe. We can trust this creator's vision; this is what we came to him for. You'll be okay.”
Omastia narrowed her eyes suspiciously at this offer, then took the hose from Auria. “You promise that you'll take in twice as much as I do this whole time?”
“I do.”
“Then let's do it.”
Auria's voice took on a lecturing tone that I'd heard before. “You'll want to hold the hose in your mouth, keeping it out of the way so you can speak. Pinch it up in the side of your cheek to keep it from falling out...”
Omastia was less impressed, and waved away the lesson. “I've done breast expansion before. I know how to use an air hose.”
Auria smiled, then put her two hoses in her own mouth. “All right. Let's loosen our clothing, then, and we can begin.” She disentangled herself from her toga's wrapping in an easy motion, standing before me in a lacy bra and panties that wouldn't look out of place in any shopping mall. Omastia, on the other hand, simply pulled her toga up over her head and tossed it in a heap on the floor before inserting her hose. She, too, was wearing panties, but her breasts were uncovered and swung freely from her chest.
The two Muses stood before me, then, several feet away from each other, with the canister between them. The hoses seemed to be exactly as long as they needed to be at any given moment, some kind of magic to keep them out of the way but not a hassle. Auria smiled and nodded to me. “Maybe you'll want to loosen your own, too. If you'll do the honors... Just a slight flow, to start off with.”
I undid my belt and kicked my pants off, then leaned forward from the bed and turned the wheel on the canister a bit until I heard the first hissings of the escaping gas. Auria closed her eyes and smiled, holding her hands over her midsection and caressing herself lightly. “I think a little more than that is in order.”
Auria sashayed over to me, her hips and thighs swinging hypnotically, already a little bit plumper than they had been mere seconds ago. She moved the canister closer to me, within easy reach, then sat down on my lap. “You're supposed to be looking at her, not me,” she said over her shoulder with a confident smile. She knew how excited this was making me, and though I couldn't see anything of Auria other than her back, she took my hands and guided them up and down her breasts and the beginnings of a belly while we watched Omastia.
The blonde Muse seemed to ignore this interplay between us, and was staring upwards at the ceiling, standing stock-still with her feet apart. At first, there was little change in her appearance, but soon her breasts began to puff up, slowly becoming more spherical.
“She's trained in the ways of Breast Expansion,” Auria said to me. “If you let her control her body's growth, she'll try to put it all in her chest. You're the creator of this vision; don't let it happen. Make her start inflating... somewhere else.” She moved my hands down her torso, to her still-widening hips and along her soft thighs and buttocks that were growing outwards and into me.
It was difficult to concentrate on Omastia, with Auria swelling with every second in my arms and her ass grinding softly yet steadily against my crotch, but I did try. The blonde woman's breasts actually shrank slightly as I mentally directed where the flow of gas was moving within her body. She grunted quietly as her abdomen began to distend with pressure.
It was like playing a movie in my head, or envisioning a story while I read it, with the exception that it was playing out in real time as I thought it. Omastia's stomach slowly pushed outwards, expanding forwards and out to her sides. Her hips thickened along with her buttocks as her waistline began to grow, for the first time making her appear bottom-heavy despite her large breasts. Her bosom hadn't stopped growing after that first brief reduction, however, and her breasts were soon nearly spherical, but still getting bigger. For her part, Omastia was focusing on her own sensations, breathing deeply with her arms held out to her sides, still looking away from me.
“There's more to body inflation than breasts, belly, and butt.” Auria sounded slightly winded, as if she was exerting herself. “But you know that. They're all individual parts, yes, but a full-body balloon woman grows more than in those three areas.”
I could feel Auria shudder slightly in my arms. It was getting more and more of a trial to hold her close as she continued to inflate, and I had to loop one arm around her midsection to keep her from sliding off my lap. Her back was pressing into me as her entire body swelled, and I saw the straps of her bra and the waistband of her panties beginning to dig into her. I let my free hand, the one not holding her to me, slip between her underwear and hip, but she swatted it away. “If you're going to start groping me, at least take my brassiere off. Honestly.”
With it right in front of me, it wasn't as difficult as it could have been, but still, removing a bra with one hand can be a little tricky. The moment I undid the final hook, her bra shot away from me as her breasts were finally unconstrained. Auria leaned back against me and sighed. I looked to the side, into the mirror on my dresser, and saw her rounded body, a seamless curve from crotch to neck with massive breasts. She, too, had her eyes closed, but she was biting her lip and rested one hand on the front of her belly. Her necklace stood out against the skin of her neck. She was even getting slightly taller in my lap as her rear expanded, lifting her up on a inflating cushion of smooth flesh. Her widening body became too much for me to hang onto with my arm, so I hooked one of my legs around hers, drawing her to me with the semi-accidental benefit of squeezing her incredibly pneumatic posterior into my lap. Her soft but resilient backside was driving into me through her clothing, and as tantalizing as the feeling of her skin slowly spreading and stretching against mine was, I knew she was feeling something even stronger.
Obviously, I didn't have to worry about Auria not enjoying the experience, but Omastia's lack of response was something strange. “Shouldn't she be getting something out of this?” I whispered into Auria's ear.
“Gods, yes,” Auria sighed. “I can feel how good you want this to be for us. If she's even half as aroused as I am...” Her eyes fluttered open, then suddenly her gaze hardened.
“Hey!” Auria snapped. “You're not letting yourself learn!” She reached out to the canister and set the flow of gas to the barest trickle. With a slight grunt of effort, she levered her bulk off of me and waddled over to the other Muse. I took a moment to admire the differences between them.
Omastia had grown larger all over, from her swollen breasts with tiny-in-comparison nipples emerging from the center of distended aureola, to the bulging belly, and the new roundness of her hips, thighs, and rear. Still, she had curves that indicated where a waist would go, and she still had a generally feminine shape... even if that female was something from a prehistoric Venus figurine. Aside from the light way she stood, you could have mistaken Omastia for an extremely heavyset woman. Auria, on the other hand, was something that could only come from fantasy. She was far rounder, nearly the same width front-to-back as she was side-to-side. Her breasts were larger, yes, but had moved apart as the flesh between them expanded and were now far less spherical as they merged with her body. Omastia's panties were tight and clung to her curves, but Auria's seemed painted on, with a waistband that still held on gamely against all odds, forming a lace-and-elastic circumference around her. There must have been some enchantment in Auria's underwear, since it seemed that there must have been more fabric to it now than there had been to start off with. Her ass and groin had expanded downwards and outwards as she filled, and while her thighs had at first swelled together, they were pushed apart to make way for the rest of her body. This forced her to stand like some kind of sumo wrestler; feet spread, body lowered.
Auria snapped her fingers in Omastia's face to get her attention. “I know for a fact that you have to be feeling physically stimulated by this,” she began. “And I'm not talking about a brain-chemistry fetish-tweak that assigns pleasure to being blown up. Part of this gas, and part of why we chose this creator for your lesson, was because he makes inflating feel good. Why aren't you letting that experience into your mind?”
Omastia's eyes finally opened, and I suddenly saw the hatred she had for the older Muse. “You can make me feel good, but you can't make me enjoy it,” she nearly spat. “Big boobs, yeah, evolutionary stimulation, blah blah blah. You can't tell me that this sideshow makes a lick of sense, and the guy doing it to you isn't half as creepy as the fact that you're getting off on it!”
Auria shook her head. “You're obviously not accepting the reality of this, but it's our assigned duty. If you're not going to get used to it, you'd better get ready for a long career of forced inflation fantasy. Because I've seen some of them, and they can get nasty.”
I reached out to the canister, still on the bed by me, and turned off the gas. I was uncomfortable with the dark turn this had suddenly taken. “Maybe you should just send her back,” I suggested. “We've inflated her, she knows what it's like. Clearly she can handle it.”
“I suppose so,” Auria agreed. “Well, Omastia? You want to go?”
The blonde Muse almost snarled at this. “I'm not going to be sent home by you. I'll go when we're done, but I do not need your pity for not being as turned on by turning into a parade float as you are.”
Auria thought about this for a moment, then turned back to me. “Maybe we have fulfilled the requirements of the job,” she purred as she approached. It's difficult to imagine that such a waddling gait could be sensual, but the way her thighs and hips worked, sliding against each other and the flesh between, brought back any of my excitement that had been lost during this argument. “But I recall saying before that I appreciate putting in extra effort.”
“Oh, you bitch,” Omastia growled. “You're actually going to screw him right here and make me watch. I can't believe you.”
Auria reached out to me, and I took her hands. I leaned back onto the bed, pulling her up on top of me, her body swollen almost to my chin even though she was sitting on my stomach. She turned to look over her shoulder and smiled cattily. “You can go. But if you do, it won't be with my permission, and you'll hear about that breach of protocol. As for you,” she said to me, “You can start helping me undress the rest of the way. I can't quite reach, myself.” She ran an arm down her belly and hip to show that her waistband was more than an arm's length away.
I hooked my fingers up into her panties and drew them down. “I'd love to get these off you in another way... but I'd feel better if we didn't have to blow you two up any more. Knowing that she hates it kind of kills the mood.”
She laughed and bounced lightly on me. “She doesn't hate the inflation, she hates me for making her do it. This feels so incredible... she's just determined to not give me the satisfaction of admitting it. But, that's okay. I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable with this, either.”
I was able to pull her panties down to her hips, and with some tight squeezing and slipping I was able to get them around her thighs and off her. All that sliding and shimmying against her swollen form, raising her up and down against me and slipping my hands all over her body, had the both of us nearly frantic. “Do it,” she whispered breathlessly. “Gods, do it.”
Rushing my hands over her, searching for a handhold, I held her with one colossal thigh in each hand and slid her down until she was where she needed to be. I looked up at her body, curving up in a near ball, breasts swaying, with the top of her flushed face looking down at me. I steadied myself, lifted her slightly... then thrust into her.
The instant I did, she moaned loudly and clenched down on me, quivering with ecstasy. I gasped and held her to me, feeling her tighten, then slack, then tighten again as she gave in to the feelings that had been pumping into her all this time and only now given release. When she finally paused for breath, I heard... a hiss, and felt her growing even firmer against me.
“I thought you didn't want me any bigger,” Auria sighed.
“I... That's not me.” I held up both hands where she could see them.
Her eyes snapped open and she turned her head as far back as she could. “Omastia...?”
I peered around the swollen woman and saw Omastia holding the canister under one arm, with her other hand on the valve wheel. “Having fun?” she asked.
“Omastia! What are you doing!?” shouted Auria.
“You're so into this, Auria? Why don't we see how much is too much?” Omastia's voice shook with rage... or some other repressed emotion. She gave the wheel another tweak, causing the hiss to intensify.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked.
She replied smoothly, even as her own body was beginning to fill out more and more. “She promised that no matter how much I took, she'd take twice as much, so she can't take those hoses out of her mouth until I say we're done. And I can take much more than this, even for a first time. I know I can.”
I looked up at Auria. “Is that true?”
“Yes. A Muse's promise is a magical bond. I can't remove the hoses. Even if you pulled on them, they wouldn't come out unless her tube was out of her mouth. And did say I'd always take in twice as much as she did...”
Auria's distended form began to inflate even faster. Her thighs and upper arms, already swollen into taut cones, began to widen even further as her entire body grew outwards. Her breasts were losing definition; instead of separate half-domes on her chest, they became rounded protrusions from the globe of her torso. “Nnn... You've got to turn off the gas. I can't make her stop...” She didn't sound in pain, but spoke with great concentration. Suddenly there was a thump from high above me, and she Auria cried out.
“Are you okay!?” I called up to her. I couldn't her head at all now, with the huge swell of her body rising up to block my view.
“I'm... I'm up against the ceiling!” she shouted. “You've got to stop her!” I tried shoving upwards in an attempt to push myself down into the bed and away from her, but was unable to extricate myself from Auria's body.
Omastia laughed nastily. “Got you pinned, huh? Does that turn you on?” Her own shape was bulging mightily, as well, but while Auria was becoming spherical, Omastia was taking more and more of the gas into her belly. Her stomach jutted out from her body to form a ball of its own, reaching from her breasts to her knees. Impossibly wide hips and buttocks still gave her thick thighs, but she was still capable of walking, and her arms weren't being absorbed into her body. “Oh, shit. It does, doesn't it? Gods, I can't do anything to you sickos that you aren't going to enjoy!” She gave the wheel another malicious twist then, blowing them both up even more rapidly.
Auria was pressing down on me harder and harder as she swelled against the ceiling. Her body was an immense sphere, with only the hints of arms and legs and breasts bulging from a ball of taut bronze flesh. Her hands and feet were uninflated and waggled frantically. “Don't worry.” I called up. “You're not going to pop. It's my fantasy, and I won't let you.”
I heard her grunt. “Even the strongest imagination has its limits...” She made some noise in her throat, then continued in a voice that was almost a whisper, “And I'm sorry... but even now this just feels so amazing... Part of me doesn't want to end. If this is how I'm going to go... don't stop touching me.” There was a sudden tinkling snap, and I saw her necklace, now broken by her swollen neck, slide down the slope of her belly to land beside my head.
I thought hard, even as Auria continued to put more and more pressure on my stomach, my legs, my chest. Maybe Omastia would get disgusted with this show and shut it off. Maybe some higher-up Muse would put an end to it. Maybe I'd be killed by a pair of imaginary women in my bedroom in a baffling locked-room crushing death mystery. With no way out, and with, I'll admit, a powerful lust, I resumed stroking her wherever I could. I caressed her inner thighs, the swell of her waist, I even leaned up to lick the underside of her belly, which was received with a shudder and a moan of delight.
I heard distressing creak, but it didn't sound organic or pneumatic. It was almost... metallic? “Oh, gods...” Auria gasped. “Just finish me. Finish me one last time before I go.”
I was nearly enveloped by her growing body, and could barely move myself. I tried rocking up and down, and even the tiny range of motion I was able to make in my position sent thrills of pleasure through her. Her gasping became more rhythmic, more erotic, and the sound of her excited me even more. As much as I could feel the pressure bearing down on me, it was within her body as well, and my every movement was touching nerves that were nearly at their breaking point with the exhilarating effect of the gas. After only a few moments of this, she screamed and wobbled against me in ecstasy, and that thrill and motion of her against me brought me to climax as well. I heard that creaking once again, longer, louder... and the bed collapsed beneath us as the legs snapped under the strain of Auria pressing against the mattress.
I gasped, stunned and surprised from the sudden fall, but saw my chance to move. Auria was still a sphere, expanded beyond all hope of even basic mobility, but with the extra few inches of space I was able to slip out from under her and reach for the canister.
“No!” wailed Omastia as I wrenched the canister out from under her arm. Her belly and groin had merged, bulging away and down from her body. She lay on the floor with her legs wide, as if straddling an overinflated balloon, with her toes barely trailing to the carpet and a large rear rising above her. I turned off the flow of gas, and detached the hose for good measure. The two Muses were still connected by three hoses that merged into one, but now there was nothing connected to the singleton end. I pulled on the hose and one tail emerged from Omastia's mouth, followed shortly by a plop as hoses in Auria's mouth fell to the floor.
“Fuck you, and fuck that bitch, and fuck your cheap Swedish furniture!” Omastia shouted, rocking angrily on her belly. Her face was flushed with anger and with what I knew to be the lust caused by my vision's gas. Even as attractively inflated as she was, nothing could have made me aroused by her once I saw the naked hatred on her face.
“Auria, are you okay?” I asked.
There was a brief pause. “I... Yes. You stopped her?”
“Yeah.” I looked at the two women; one incredibly bloated, and other a massive sphere, both gone to immobility. “How do we fix you two?”
“Nothing a good knife to the heart won't fix,” muttered Omastia, but I was listening for Auria. “I-I don't have the charm to revert to my original form. I always have it with me, but it's not here...!”
“Did you bring it here?” I looked around in Auria's robe on the floor, then in Omastia's robe in case she had taken it. Auria began to panic, saying that she always had it, it had been there, now it was gone...
I pushed her gently aside and found the remains of her necklace on the mattress. I tenderly rolled her forward until her face was level with mine and showed it to her. “Is this it?”
Auria's head had almost sunken to the sphere of her body, and even her cheeks were slightly puffy, but she smiled broadly at the sight of her lost necklace. “Oh, yes, thank you! If I didn't have that, I'd have been stuck like this until somebody noticed us missing!” There were tears of relief in her eyes. “If it's broken, just hold it around my neck and I can do the reversion enchantment.”
I lifted her hair from the back of Auria's neck to hold the necklace in one hand, then leaned in close to kiss her while I caressed her body with my free fingers. After long seconds, I let her go, and when she smiled, I think the tears were somewhat different.
She said a quick incantation in a language I didn't understand, too fast and low to catch even if I had. Her body began to deflate smoothly, her massive curves shrinking down to the way they had been when she appeared. As she did, she had to step forward and lean into me as she went from “lying” on her belly to standing on her own feet again.
“Hello, legs,” she said, wiggling her toes. She turned and glared down at Omastia, who was still inflated on the floor.
“Well?” Omastia asked bitterly. “I guess it's me next, huh?”
“No,” Auria replied. “We've got to take you back to prove how well you passed this first inflation. Clearly you can take it.” She reached out and gave Omastia's swollen bottom a firm smack, which made the blonde Muse squawk indignantly. “What with paperwork and all, it might be a few days before you get out of this shape. Now say thank you to the nice man for this opportunity and you can go.”
“Fffffuuuuuuuu------” Omastia's curse trailed out as she vanished into thin air with a faint bluish glow.
“Well...” I said. “That was interesting.”
“That's certainly one word for it.”
“What's going to happen to her?”
Auria shrugged. “I can see she's got the physical resilience, but she's not cut out for body inflation, that's obvious. I'm sure we can find her a better niche in the inspiration-providing department.”
“Maybe there's a run on self-hating masochists seeking to be belittled by inflating dominatrices?”
“Now there's an idea...” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “That's not big enough for a whole patron spirit, but maybe that can get worked into something else she likes. I know she was horrible here, to us, but you can't be a Muse without having the ability and the drive to see people succeed in some fashion.”
There was something that had been bothering me, and now was as good enough a time as any to ask about it. “So... She was taking in half as much gas as you, right? But if her volume is half of yours, you still wouldn't have been that much bigger than she was by the end, given that volume was increasing linearly, so diameter would increase logarithmically...”
Auria punched my lightly in the shoulder and grinned. “You're thinking about it too much. Twice as much air, twice as big. Fantasy means not having to be right all the time about everything.” She lazily draped her robe over her shoulder as she spoke, and went to pick up Omastia's fallen robe and the gas canister. “Oh... I just had another couple of thoughts.”
“What's that?”
“Well, first, we're going to have to revisit what we've learned here in a more controlled environment.”
“Something with higher ceilings, maybe.”
“Right.”
“And the second?”
She smiled shyly. “Well, there aren't any male Muses, and there are a number of female writers who need inspiration... to have themselves inflated. Instead of dressing ourselves in drag, maybe we could consider doing a little mental outsourcing?”
I thought about that, then smiled. “Are you thinking of putting some pen to papyrus anytime soon?”
She laughed. “Maybe, but some gifts deserve to be shared.” She gave me a quick hug and looked into my eyes. “Until next time.”
“Make it a promise.”
She chuckled, then leaned forward to put her mouth to my ear. As she faded from view, I heard her whisper softly, “Sssssss...”
The story of how I got here is kind of a crazy one, but I've talked about it before. Those of you who are curious about my backstory can find it easily enough, I'm sure. Without having to slow down to go into too much detail, I'll just say that I've ended up as a sort-of hire-on for a metaphysical idea agency, helping potential artists come to those first thoughts that spark creativity for future works.
Okay, that's a little too broad. Suffice to say, the old Muses, that is, the spirits of inspiration so sought after by the ancient Greeks and Romans, are still around and doing their jobs. While they mostly take the forms of dreams or "random" thoughts or fortune cookie papers, sometimes they want to get a little more hands-on in their approach, and they appear directly before the creators they are meant to inspire. That's where I come in.
You see, the Muses are by and large female (sometimes both bi and large, as well), and once in a while it comes to pass that a certain mind is deemed to be better influenced by a male apparition instead of a female one. In those cases, I'm told that men get subcontracted in to appear in spirit to these creators. I haven't met any others, but apparently it's not all that uncommon, and tradition is really the only thing that keeps the Muses from branching out into a fully co-ed service. Not that I'm complaining!
Of course, part of what got me pressed into service is the particularly small niche that my creativity seemed to blossom in: inflation fantasy. I know, it's weird and downright perverse to a lot of people, but as long as it's imaginary and nobody gets hurt... The thought of being able to help budding authors come to grips with the idea of blowing up filled me with an erotic thrill, and I couldn't refuse the offer when it had come to me. Until just now, I'd never actually been called upon in any capacity. I have to say, I'd expected better preparation.
I had been settling down for a longish night of gaming in front of my computer screen when I heard a peculiar, faint noise coming from behind me. The singular harmonics of this sound, a low hiss of gas escaping from a hose, reached deep down inside me and triggered memories that I had thought had only appeared in my imagination. It all came flooding back to me: Auria, the elastic-bodied Muse who had appeared to me and unlimbered my mind as well as my libido.
Given the events of the previous times I had seen her, I had to take a deep breath before swivelling my chair around. She was as I'd seen her before, clad in a voluminous white toga, her dark hair held back by a sort of wreath or tiara of greenery. She was sitting on my bed with her legs crossed, with a gas canister standing on the floor beside her.
"Good to see I've got your attention," she smiled.
I tried to play it a little more coolly than before, but the sudden appearance of one's sexual fantasy in one's bedroom has a bad effect on attempts to be suave. "I didn't think I merited another visit from you. Not after last time."
She shrugged, one dusky shoulder popping from the folds of her robe briefly. "Don't you worry about last time. In fact, that's why I'm here." That was a little worrisome. The previous time we'd met, Auria had used me to try to get another Muse into her line of work, but the new girl had had a chip on her shoulder even larger than the belly she had ended up sporting. I hadn't seen either of them since... except in my deepest fantasies, where Auria's globular body pressed down on me harder and harder as she filled with an obscene amount of mystical gas. But, despite the mindblowing sex, the danger of the situation was something of a turnoff to me, and I had counted my blessings in not having to repeat the experience. Still, there had been something more to her visit than just getting me to write. "Do you remember that little job offer I gave you?"
"To do your job for you and help other writers think up balloon sex? Doesn't ring any bells."
She laughed. "Yes, that's the one. Let's just say your time has come."
"What, right now?"
Auria smiled again and tossed me something bulky and white. "Sure. Here, put this on."
I clumsily unfolded the object, which eventually turned out to be a set of togs similar to hers, a toga complete with a little golden leaf-pattern circlet and a pair of leather sandals. "Seriously? Just like that? What if I have things to do tonight?"
She responded with a mocking smile "Okay, there are a few things wrong with that. First, I know you're not doing anything. XCom is just going to have to save the world without you. Second, you'll be gone for no time at all. This is more of a spiritual journey."
I frowned. "Wait, so I'm not actually going anywhere?"
"Right. We'll just borrow your intelligence and have an astral projection to where you need to be. It'll feel real, but you'll be right here the entire time, and when you're done you'll come back to this place."
"So why make me wear this stuff? Can't you just, I don't know, spirit these clothes onto me if I'm not really going to be there?"
"It's easier for you to believe you're wearing something if you're actually wearing it. Stop making this so hard!"
I sat down on the bed beside her and began undoing my pants. "I could say the same to you--" I began in my smoothest voice (which, admittedly, isn't all that smooth), but she laughed and slapped my shoulder.
"Save it for the client, Casanova. Maybe if you're still up for it later there will be time for fun, but there's a task at hand."
"Yeah, okay, about that. I don't know the first thing about actually doing what it is you expect me to do."
Auria gave me an appraising look. "Good, you're asking questions. Don't worry, you're not going to go in completely without answers. Let's get you suited up first."
After some confusing moments with the toga, I was dressed as well as could be expected for a 21st-century guy in a zeroth-century outfit. "All right, now what?"
She tugged at my toga to straighten an errant fold, then smiled. "Now, I teach you." The walls faded to insubstantial shadows--or maybe we did while the walls stayed the same--and things changed.
After what felt like several hours, I appeared in the bedroom of a woman that would be my first human demonstration of power. She had an empty text document open before her while she toyed with a lock of her brown hair. From the way she kept opening her email, checking Facebook, and all the other little time-passing tricks, I guessed that she'd been in this posture for a while. I'd been there myself, telling myself that I was going to write and frittering the time away with meaningless checkups, until ultimately having to resign that night's effort was for nothing. Well, hopefully this night would be something different.
I cleared my throat softly from across the room while allowing myself to fade slightly into visibility. I'd been given a small suite of mythic powers for my deputy-Muse duties, including teleportation, invisibility, and elasticity, as well as the ability to pass these powers on as need be. When the woman didn't react, I said “Ahem” slightly louder. I didn't want to completely freak her out right off that bat, but can you really expect to know how people will react when being granted a divine visitation?
She reacted far more quickly than I would have thought. Her head snapped around, and within an instant an empty tea bottle that had been on her desk whirred through my head and smashed into the wall behind me. Good thing I'd remained incorporeal at the time, or else that surely would have done some damage... and being knocked out within the first minute of my first Musing mission would have gone very poorly for me.
That didn't stop me from flinching and flailing stupidly for a moment before recovering my senses. Already the woman already had a second bottle in her hand, waiting to strike, but my ghostlike shimmer was causing some confusion. "What... What are you?" she asked, eyes narrowed.
"I'm glad you asked," I said. I'd had something rehearsed for this situation, but at the necessary moment, the words escaped and I just went with my gut. I hefted my standard-issue air canister in one hand and pointed towards her computer screen with the other. "In a nutshell, I'm here to help you get into the mindset you need to create what you want to create."
She sat bolt upright and flushed. "I-I don't know what you're talking about!" she stammered. In response, I approached her slowly and took a seat on her bed near her--comfortably out of reach, but close enough for a companionable chat.
"Do I need to type in some web addresses? See if you have accounts on a site or two? Maybe browse your favorites list on that secondary DeviantArt account you keep, just to yourself?" I was only guessing here, but some of that struck a chord with the woman, and she ran a hand through her hair and gulped nervously.
"Do you mean... You're here to...?"
"I'm here because you want to write about what it's like to be big. Very big. And I'm here to let you feel what it is you'll be writing."
She cleared her throat once, twice, before casting a longing glance at the canister I held. "You're here for me? Why?"
I smiled and leaned back. I knew she would be willing; she just had to know that it was fantasy. "Because some ideas need a kick to get going. Think of me as your Muse."
She kept looking from me to the canister as I explained the basic function of the Muse. At least, as well as I understood it, both from what I already knew and from the brief introductory course I had undergone in Auria's realm. Was what we did really real? It certainly felt real, which could be all the argument one needed from a subjective sort of view. Being a semi-mythological being tended to give one a very pointed opinion on the Plato's Cave metaphor, I'd noticed. Suffice it to say, I left out the part about me not actually being a real Muse, but I did tell her that this would be a first time for both of us.
Once the shock of the situation wore off, the woman seemed almost eager to try it, but held back. "You can blow me up. You can put me back, right? I'm not going to pop or be stuck like that, or anything?"
"Not at all. This is going to be for you. You guide the experience. I'm just here to make it... a little less of a mental exercise."
Almost hesitantly, she reached out to touch the canister, then me. "You're really here, and you can really do this, and you know that I want it." She took a deep breath, and her voice steadied. "Let's do it."
"Perhaps you would like to change into something a little more comfortable before we get started?" I asked. She was wearing a pair of flannel pajama pants and a baggy T-shirt; suitable clothing for writing, I knew, but even with the slight elastic magic I could impart, they wouldn't hold up well. After a few minutes of indecision in the closet, she eventually emerged in a pair of slightly loose tan yoga pants and a men's white button-up shirt. "No underwear," she said, sitting on her bed, "but that's not going to be a problem, is it?"
"Not for long," I agreed. "First, this might be personal, but how would you like to take your gas?"
"Huh?"
"I mean, where do you want it to go in? The body has a number of different entry points: mouth, belly button, er... lower..." I guestured.
"Belly button," she answered hastily. "If you can use that, I'd like it."
"All right," I said. "With the belly, the gas is going to naturally concentrate in your midsection. You'll be able to spread it about as you grow, of course, but if you don't keep an eye on it, you'll get pudgy pretty fast."
"Are there differences between the different places?" she asked.
Again, my Musing crash-course came to the rescue. "It turns out, yes. At least, in the mind of the inflatee--that's you--the body tends to expand more in a localized area about the gas's entry point. In the case of the mouth, it goes to the chest, the belly button, into the midsection..."
"And if I wanted it up my ass, it would go straight there." She seemed a little amused by this logic.
"Got it." However, instead of connecting the canister I had to her, I reached into the hammerspace (personal dimensional cache, for the uninitiated) I'd created under her bed and pulled out an old-timey bicycle pump. The hose was metallic and strong, though, and I reached under her shirt to plug the end into her belly button. I noticed that she was already quivering at my touch, and when the hose made its connection, she drew a sharp breath and gripped her bed tightly.
"What's with the pump?" she asked. "Aren't you going to turn on the canister and let me blow up?"
"There are two reasons why we're going to go with the bike pump," I explained. "First, we're going to take this very slowly, so you can get a clear mental image of what's happening at every step. This is so you can remember it for the future, right?"
"Okay," she nodded. "And the other reason?"
"Because you're not mystical, we've got to slowly pump you so that your body acclimates to having pressure inside of it." I was glad Auria had taught me a suitable metaphor for this, for I'd never had to see her do it. "The first time you inflate, your body doesn't know what to do. It's like you're a rubber balloon being blown up for the first time. The very first time you try to blow it up, there's a point where the rubber resists before it begins to stretch. Your body is going to do that, so by using the pump we avoid going too fast."
"You said 'the first time'?" she asked. "Will this happen again?"
"Nope. If you ever end up inflating magically again, your metaphysical 'skin' will already know that it should stretch, and so you only need to go through this once."
"No," she said, "I mean, will you come and blow me up again after this?" There was a touch of breathlessness to her voice.
"I don't know. I guess it depends on how well you take to this first lesson. Are you ready?"
"Wait!" she said, her hands clamping down on her belly. At first I thought she was trying to pull the hose out of herself, but then I realized that she was unbuttoning her shirt and then rebuttoning it around the hose, so that it would stick out between a gap in the buttons instead of snaking underneath.
"Oh, there's one more question before we start." I flicked a small switch on the pump a couple of times for emphasis. "Do you want to float, or not?"
She paused. "You can make me float?"
"Yup. Your choice, but you should decide before I start pumping anything into you. Do you want to be heavier than air or floaty?"
Her eyes glazed over slightly, and she swallowed before answering. "I want to be a real balloon. Make me lighter." She lay back on the bed and arched her back, waiting.
I nodded, set the pump accordingly, and pumped the first small burst of gas into her.
"I feel it!" she gasped, holding her hands over her belly, where the hose trailed between her shirt and into her body.
"What's it like? Is it too hot? Too cold?"
"N-No... It's good. I just... keep going!"
"I'm asking because you need to know how to convey what you're feeling now. Give me a stream-of-thought while I'm pumping you up." I drew up on the handle and sent another slow wave of gas into her.
"I feel my belly... it's tighter, kind of. The air's in me." She poked at her midsection, and ran her hands up and down her body. "I can feel the air under my hands. I can move it around a little..."
Another pump, and she pushed a bubble up and down her side with her hand.
"Guide that air into your body. Let it fill you up. You can send it into the other parts of your body if you want."
With the next pump, she gently nudged a bubble up herself until it reached her breasts. "Oh! Now my breast is tighter, too, a little. The air's in there."
I continued to pump her slowly, letting her push the bubbles to and fro across her midsection to end up in her breasts, her thighs, her buttocks. "Now, for the next few pumps, don't use your hands. Tell your body where it's going to get bigger, even as the gas is coming into it. All the while, keep telling me what you're feeling."
"I can feel the gas in me... I don't feel bad. The air is under my skin, getting puffier. I feel tension, but my body isn't tense. I'm sending it into my breasts... They're larger now. I can feel them tugging on the shirt a little, when they weren't before. My pants are tighter. I know my ass is bigger, and I think my legs are thicker now?"
"They are," I confirmed. "The gas is going to fill your available space before you start to stretch."
She nodded and ran one hand under the waistband of her yoga pants feeling the resistance of the elastic before letting it snap down with a hollow donk. "That's new," she said. "It must be because I'm... emptier now. I have more room in me."
I continued to pump, urging her to continue to describe the feelings she was having. When she did, her voice was huskier, breathier, as if the very act of describing what was happening was stirring her as much as the feelings of pressure within her.
"The air's getting harder to move around without my hands," she reported. "It's going into my middle. I feel it getting tighter against my shirt, and my breasts aren't lying flat anymore." Sure enough, her shirt was beginning to put up some resistance against her swelling midsection, and now I could clearly see the hose where it entered her as her body tried to pull the shirt open. It was nowhere near straining yet, but she was noticeably bigger than before, in every way.Her pants clung to her swollen hips and thighs, the stretchy fabric easily taking in her growing lower body. Seeing the waistband slowly creeping down her rounding belly reminded me of watching Auria's body as she had swelled, but I knew this was different. For one thing, despite my own growing excitement, this inflation was far, far, slower, and it wasn't for my benefit.
"Okay, now stop directing the gas. Let it go where it wants, but keep in mind what's happening to you." I slowed down the pumps, but tried to retain a smooth rhythm.
"I... The air is bunching up in my midsection." She ran her hands over her newly-rounded body as she described each area. "It's not just my belly, but out to the sides, too. My waistband feels much tighter. My back... I can't feel the small of my back going in anymore. There's just my ass, oh god it's round and full, and then my skin curves out. My breasts are almost totally round now, and I'm starting to feel tight all over.
"The air's in my belly, and I'm getting bigger, pushing against my clothes... No, that's not my clothes. My skin isn't pushing out any further, and I feel... just tighter. There isn't any more room for this air." She finally started to sound concerned, as she realized that I was showing no sign of relenting my slow pumping. "I'm filling up! No, I'm full! I'm full, you can stop!" She was hardly full. She was puffy, but she hadn't truly begun to stretch. But there was no way for her to know this; after all, she'd only ever imagined this could happen.
I did stop pumping, though, and ran my hand over her inflated body. She moaned slightly at my touch, then grabbed my hand. "Thank you for showing me this. I feel so much bigger." Her belly pushed against her shirt, and now a band of her skin was visible between the bottom of her shirt and the waistband of her pants as the it rode up her body.
I pressed down on her belly, causing her to squeal while the gas within her was pushed to her extremities. "You remember what I said about the balloon, right? You aren't inflating yet. Your body's still pushing back before you can expand." I pulled my hand free of hers and disconnected the hose from the bicycle pump, then connected the same hose, still planted in her belly, to the the gas canister.
"No," she whispered. "You promised I wouldn't pop. You--"
I turned the wheel on the canister, letting a slow but steady flow of bouyant gas into her. Without having to manually pump her up, I could help her more directly, and I took her hands again, holding them against her belly.
"You're not going to pop. You're going to get bigger. Repeat that with me."
"I'm not going to p-p-pop... I'm g-going to get b-b-bigger..." she stumbled, as the gas continued to well up within her body.
"You aren't even floating yet. You're nowhere near big enough to pop."
"I still n-need to float... Not gonna pop..." She closed her eyes and shivered as the pressure continued to mount. Her belly groaned, and her breasts quivered, but her skin remained smooth and unblemished.
After just a few more seconds of this buildup (which must have felt like an eternity to her), her body began to swell again, her belly forcing its way to stretch her shirt as far as it could even as her butt and legs grew even larger. A familiar low-pitched whooshing noise filled the room: the sound of a helium balloon beginning to inflate, but magnified and much, much deeper.
Her eyes snapped open, and she cried out once. "I'm growing again! My body..."
I ran her hands over her belly and hips, caressing them with my own hands. "Now you're starting to swell up. Your body's reached that point where it stops resisting, and now you're expanding for real."
"Oh... It was so powerful," she groaned. "And you say I never have to go through that again?"
"Well, not from Muses," I admitted.
"That might be a shame," she said. "I think... I came a little, right at the end there."
"I wouldn't be surprised," I said, "but there's still time."
Still, that frank admission of release was new to me. I did let my hands wander over her lower body for a few seconds as the gas continue to work its way inside her. Her newly-rounded hips and thighs were still soft and smooth, and the yoga pants cling gamely to her new curves along her rear and across her groin, which was beginning to push outwards as her lower torso met her belly.
"Help me up," she said. "I want to see myself." I pulled her upright and helped her stand, where she took a pose in front of the full-length mirror in her room. Her breasts bobbled up beneath her shirt, and she grinned. "See? Parts of me are lighter already." She hopped up and down slightly, watching her breasts bounce while her midsection shimmied slightly. Her shirt was stretched tight across her body now, both as her breasts and her belly continued to grow within it. The lower part of her shirt in particular was strained across her midsection as she swelled out to the sides and back, but the buttons were hanging in there, keeping the garment closed.
"Tell me what you're feeling." I said, getting her back on track.
She stared at herself in the mirror for a moment longer, then wrapped her arms about herself. "That tightness from before is gone, but I feel pressure on my waist, and around my chest. My skin feels more sensitive, I think because I'm actually stretching now. I feel... bigger, but not clumsier or slower."
"That pressure's probably just your clothing," I said, trailing a finger around the waistline of her amazingly stretchy pants and then tapping her shirt. "You're still getting going to bigger, if you want to."
"Of course I want to!" she sighed. "You couldn't stop me now, could you? Not after what happened on the bed? And, besides, you said I could fly!"
"I said you could float. If you think you're getting out of this room, you're crazy."
"Crazy enough to find this incredibly stirring. But, you knew that, right? You wouldn't even have come to do to this to me if I didn't."
"Uh... Let's get back to focusing on your impressions. Remember how this all feels, as your body fills."
She sighed and closed her eyes, crossing her arms under her breasts and letting them rest on the new pillow of her belly. "Right now... I feel like things are slowing down. I know I'm still getting bigger, but the pressure and the tension are subsiding. I still feel a fullness, but my skin feels softer, not as severe as before."
"Okay, you're entering a safe stretch," I said, drawing on the specialized vocabulary Auria had drilled into me.
"Pun intended?" She cocked her head, brown hair spilling onto her shoulder.
"Very much so, more's the pity. But what I mean is now that your body's begun to expand, you've passed a safe milestone and you can relax for a bit."
"I don't want to relax! I want to feel a thrill! I want to float!" She bobbed on her toes again, and her breasts almost broke free from the shirt now. "Don't tell me that this gets actually dull once I start getting big!"
"Hardly!" I said, with all the experience of having watched this being done a mere two times. "We're taking it slow because this is your first time, remember? At this point in most fantasies, the inflation actually increases until something happens."
"That's the problem," she said. "My fantasy involves getting bigger, faster. I want to feel that pressure again. I want dramatic change!"
"Careful," I said. "Don't get all adrenaline junkie on me now. Besides, from the looks of things you're about to cross another line fairly soon."
"Is it taking these constrictive clothes off?" She leaned forward and squeezed her breasts between her arms, causing them to strain at the already-stricken shirt enough that a button popped loose.
"Oh!" she gasped, "That felt... liberating. Being able to break free, that sudden release... It's kind of like that first stretch again."
"At least, in the stories, that's how it goes, right?" I nodded. "The clothing has to come off sometime. If you want, I can take it off for you, or..."
"No! I want to bust out of them." She sat back on the bed. "How long is it going to take?"
"Well, you're already pretty big. But usually the growth is faster at this point. I could turn up the pressure..."
"Yes!" she exclaimed, almost hungrily.
"In return, though, you need to get back into the zone. Remember what's happening. Relax, and feel your body swelling."
She lay back down on the bed, the new curves of her body resting comfortably. The waistband of her yoga pants, still being driven downwards as her belly and sides grew, gave her the impression of a comparative waist, and her hips, ass, and thighs flared out cartoonishly below it. Above, the shirt was taut against her belly and sides, and an escaping glimpse of breast peeked from the broken button near the top. "I feel... tight, but not dangerously so. I'm constrained, and I can get bigger if I can get free."
"How's your skin?" I asked, tapping the rising crown of her belly with a finger. Even lying down, her body was a good yard high.
"Still... Mmm... Soft and sensitive. Do that again." I obliged, and she laughed at the dull bwom sound that resonated through her.
"All right. I'm going to turn it up. Get ready." She bit her lip and nodded. I opened the valve on the canister a bit more, increasing the gas's flow into her.
She sighed contentedly and rubbed at her belly. Soon she began to rub herself faster and faster. "The pressure's building again..." she said. "I can still be bigger, but first... I've got to get out of this!" Her breasts burst forth, popping two buttons at once with a staccato ripping sound. She gasped with pleasure as her flesh heaved to, straining against her shirt. The rising swell of her was getting visibly larger, pushing at the final few threads keeping her from being free.
"It's tight... but I can be bigger." she whispered. Sure enough, the shirt finally gave in, the buttons tearing off one after another as she lay, a triumphant mound of woman in her tan stretch pants and the remains of a white shirt.
"What about the pants?" I asked.
"Can I get them off?" she panted. "I can't see." The curve of her oversized belly was preventing her from seeing below her waist, where the spandex seemed laminated to every curve of her lower half.
"I don't know," I said. "Whichever brand you bought, you really picked a winner."
"Just get them off of me," she said. "I want to be free to grow, and they're so tight..."
Even as her body continued to blow up with the increased gas flow, I knew that ripping these pants might be more trouble than it was worth, so I climbed on top of her bed and straddled her legs. I found a handhold on either side of her massively flaring hips and tugged downwards, but the swell of her immense rear kept me from pulling them off.
"I need to flip you over to do this," I said, and slowly rolled her onto her side and then onto her front. She bit her lip and grunted as she took her weight on the gas-filled pillow of her belly, and the globes of her now-immense rear rose up before me. I hooked my thumbs into her waistband on either side, then hauled her towards me, shoving against her to pull her pants down. Every inch of the clothing's movement was accompanied by her swelling ass pressing closer and closer to me, as her own body pressure worked to help me peel the pants away from what was becoming a smooth expanse of cheek and thigh. At one spot, the flare of her hips was even wider than her waist had been, and I struggled with the stubborn clothing. How had this thing stayed intact?
My tugging had had a second effect on her, however. As I pulled, she rocked back and forth on her stomach, and when I began to work her faster, she gasped and tried to slip a hand down below her belly, but was unable to reach. She contented herself with playing with her sides, running her fingers along her hips and across as much of her rear as she could manage.
"This feels so good," she moaned. "The pressure is sliding down my legs, and I can feel my ass growing again, now that it's out of there." Her cheeks were expanding more rapidly, taking on gas and forcing her thighs to press against each other tightly as the pants held her legs together around her knees. I was going to make another go at pulling, but she waived a hand for me to stop. "Leave it there. I like the way my thighs are mashing together, against each other and into my crotch. It just feels so... electric."
I rolled her over again and pulled her into a sitting position, her hugely inflated belly riding against her swollen thighs, her bottom another pair of exaggetated curves below that. Her back was bulging out behind her head, rounding out her entire upper body. Obviously her front was stretched out much more than her back, but she was thicker all around, and her waist was rapidly becoming more of an equator to envelop her hips.
"Keep thinking about how it feels." I said. "Is there anything else I can do?" Instead of responding directly, she closed her eyes and nodded, driving her chin between her massive breasts and setting them to bouncing. Her hands remained busily stroking at the sides of her immense body, and she seemed to be shaking with excitement.
After a few moments of this, her body still slowly inflating, she looked over to me and smiled. "I feel lighter. The sense of pressure on my ass is getting less, even though I know it's still getting bigger, and I know why. It's because I don't weigh as much!"
I nodded. "You're starting to float."
"I'm starting to float." She sighed and leaned forward as much as she could, pressing against her belly and holding herself tightly. "Hurry. Speed it up. I want this so bad right now."
I gave the canister another twist, and the rate of flow into her increased once more.
"Yessss..." she hissed, and she began to slowly rock against herself. Each time she pulled back, her belly was slightly larger, further restricting her movements.
"I can feel it," she whispered. "There's so little weight to me. It's just this incredible feeling of fullness and my skin is so sensitive." I placed my hand on her belly, near the hose, and she shuddered with pleasure.
Her voice was low and fast, almost like a mantra or a woman in a dream. "I'm going to float. It's coming. I feel it in the pit of my stomach, like when you're going up a roller coaster and about to drop. It's building up so much inside me and I just can't stand it and--"
Her belly began to waver, and she slowly rose up off the bed. She gasped and lay backwards, twisting her hips as her rear lost contact with the sheets. Her calves and knees were still effectively held fast by her pants, and her hugely bulging thighs ground together, the globes of her ass working against each other. Her feet trailed against the bed for a moment, for she was obviously being lifted by her belly and her legs were still the heaviest part of her, but in a moment even they had risen up off the bed and she was rising up into the air.
I caught her by the ankles and towed her more towards the center of the room, then tugged her downwards and took a hold of the hose. She rolled in the air to face downwards, tethered by the hose to the canister, her almost spherical belly and torso meeting with her hips and ass in a series of smooth, flawless orbs.
"I'm floating... I'm floating..." she moaned, her head back and her face flushed. She seemed lost in the throes of passion, and from the way she had been waiting for this very moment, I wasn't surprised. I teased my other hand along the curve of her belly, out of her reach, starting between her breasts and tracing down to the hose, then further along to where her thighs pressed in a firm grip of inflated flesh. Somewhere between them, her body must have been swollen mightily as well, but with her pants forcing her legs tightly together by her knees, there must have been an incredible amount of pressure there between the inflation of her thighs, her belly, and her groin. For a moment I considered thrusting my hand up and finding the spot that was giving her so much pleasure as her body pressed itself into her more delicate areas.
But, no. Unless she asked, I wouldn't take liberty with her like that. After all, this was to be her fantasy, and she could stimulate herself all she liked. With her mind, at least, since she obviously couldn't reach there with arms.
Eventually, even the thrill of floating must have worn down slightly, and she tapped against her belly with one hand to create a series of kettle-drum booms. "Stop," she commanded. "Turn it off. I... I'm big enough now."
"Are you sure?" I asked, squeezing a breast slightly. "There's still some give in your body. You could be bigger." Still, I stopped fondling her long enough to turn off the flow of gas, but kept holding on to the hose.
"Yeah," she replied. "It felt... feels so amazing, but I don't want to strain myself. Being big and soft is better than drum-tight, I think." She sighed, laying her head down on the curve of her body, and let her arms dangle. "I'm finally a balloon, and it's so good. I can't get lost in it." Funnily enough, I hadn't had that degree of self-control in my first inflation session with the Muses, and I hadn't even been the one blowing up. I was impressed by her
"What are you thinking of?" I asked, tugging on the hose to let her bob in the air. She giggled slightly.
"I have to put this into words. I know that I was probably repeating myself a lot while it was happening, and I need to do better than that to make it worth reading."
"You'd be surprised," I said. "An honest, natural-sounding voice is much more immersive than a thesaurus for 'big.' Just stay away from fruit and sporting goods and I think you'll do okay."
"I'm still not quite over it. It really happened. I'm so huge, and round, and it all really happened."
"Try to remember that." I reassured her. "It's going to feel like a dream later. A fantastic dream, and you'll tell yourself that it was impossible. But, hold on to how you feel, dream or not, and keep it in your mind."
I set the gas canister to its last setting--a harmless anesthetic-- and let it slowly feed into her, so slowly that its passage was silent. Within a few short moments, she fell asleep even as she grew a tiny bit bigger, lolling in the air as contentedly as a cloud given feminine form.
It was a fairly quick task to guide her over to the bed and gently deflate her, using the hose's valve to magically suck every trace of the gases from her body. I repaired her shirt with a touch and tossed it into the closet, but left her pants around her knees and covered her with her blanket. Even though she had changed her clothes, the restored shirt would contradict her memory of the event, giving the whole experience an even more dreamlike feel when she woke up.
I gave the room one more look and set everything back to the way I remembered it being when I first arrived, then said the spell to take me back to the etherial plane where the Muses made their home.
"A good first run," Auria said when I returned to the cloud-enveiled room that she had made her office. "Very polite, very professional."
"It helped that she didn't want me to be really dominating during the whole thing," I said. "I'm not sure I could have gotten into that."
"The point isn't for you to get into it," she replied harshly. "It's for her, and you'll do as she likes. That's the point. Still, though, it's nice that you enjoyed it."
"I did," I agreed, "though I'm not sure I have it in me to do it very often."
"Maybe you won't need to," Auria said. "We'll watch how this takes hold in her creative centers and keep an eye on her output. You may have just done something very special for one person, or maybe it'll spark something that gives pleasure to a lot more than just her. That's the thrill of this job, the potential of making your simple actions for one mind ripple outwards to reach many more. Now change back into your own clothing and I'll send you home."
I smiled and did so. When I was done, Auria made a note in the file she was reading and shut the folder, which then flew into an open file cabinet and neatly alphabetized itself under "I" (it was a fairly large section, I noticed). "There is one more thing I should mention," she said. "This isn't the sort of thing we Muses had to deal with when we first started out, so I can see why it's a rookie mistake."
"What's that?" I asked. "I thought everything went fairly well."
"Oh, it did," she said with a smile, waving her hands to cause a cloud to form around me to take me back. "But, in the future, make sure anyone you visit has her webcam off before you appear to her." She winked and snapped her fingers, and everything went black.