"Okay," Police officer Ned said, "what the hell happened?"
"Just Pride," I commented.
"I've seen Pride before," he spat. "Couple hundred homos in the square, playing their music and dancing drag queens with rainbows and glitter. A bit to clean up, gotta control some of the protesters, but... what the hell?"
What HAD happened?
Well, I was out with my three boyfriends for Pride. Yes, three: Rob, Justin and Elvis. After some time, we lived together, sleeping together, and yeah, even having sex together. We'd connected over a kink we liked: inflating our bodies for sex games. We used to pump each other up with a weird gas we bought on the internet, but we now had a new method.
We'd switched to a spray that would inflate a human body shortly on impact. We discovered that a lot of gay guys actually bought this stuff and would lightly inflate their butts with it. We would use it much more liberally, inflating mainly our torsos, but trying out other parts often, sometimes literally covering ourselves with it.
Sometimes we played a game where we would stand back to back, naked in our "fun room," and then spray ourselvses down, and see who'd be taking up the least space. The "loser" would usually be squeezed so tightly, he'd delate and then he'd actually get to play with the rest of our swollen bodies for three hours. So maybe he'd actually win.
There were three ways to deflate: external or internal pressue, popping some seltzer tablets, or just waiting for the spray to wear off in three hours.
Then they reworked the formula of the spray so your clothes would expand with you. We switched to that, and then get odd looks from the neighbors as they'd see three fabulous gay guys walking around with another one, swollen and floating in the air, being pulled around via a piece of string.
Then we decided to bring the fun to our town's Pride Fest. Rob and Justin would wear rainbow shirts, then we'd tie their ankles to lamp posts and spray them down. Voila, live Pride balloons that'd be sure to get some attention. Elvis and I would look offer to do this to anyone interested.
Even though I'd seen them inflate many times before, it always aroused me to see one my guys get big. We'd practiced lots of times and had even figured out how to shape our forms. A little on the head, a bit more on the neck and torso, and a mist on hands and feet, and you plump up to an almost perfectly round shape with a few bumps.
We got some gorgeous lesbians to agree, and we carefully treated them. Their faces swelled to smiling globes, then their bodies would expand and become perfectly round with their breasts swelling to the front. Their arms and legs disappeared inside their swollen bodies as their hands and feet grew to stubby nubs. The girls were troopers and looked fabulous. Lesbians are awesome.
But that was when things got out of hand.
"THIS IS AN ABOMINATION!" a voice shouted, and an old man carrying a sign reading "LEV. 18:22" ran up to me.
"Be filled with the spirit!" he shouted. "Not another man's sperm!"
Elvis jumped in and grabbed the old man's arm and sprayed his head. Within seconds, it became a round, air-filled balloon about three feet high. He began to lift a little off the ground. With a few more sprays, his head was practically ballooned to the size of a small hot air balloon, his face barely visible in the expanse of flesh. soon floating over the crowd before being caught in the wind and blown away.
I guess the other religious nuts had either noticed and kept back or had decided to just let us be. But the flight of the protestor had caused everyone to notice us.
Just about everyone asked what we'd done and where to get the spray, but most of them wanted a free sample. Drag queens wanted us to spray their chests to make them look like they had real breasts and just about every guy wanted a nice bubble butt or a bulge. Many of the more feminine lesbians also asked for chest sprays to make their breasts bigger or to make it so they didn't need to wear a bra. Even a couple drag kings asked for a groin spray so it'd look like they had something down there. We'd stocked up on the spray and had brought plenty, so we tried to obligie everyone. As the line dwindled as everyone returned to the festivities, we got a few grumpy gays who were tired of waiting in line.
"I want a badonkadonk," grunted a nearly-anorexic looking guy in a tight hot pink wife beater and cut off shorts. "Make it snappy."
He turned his ass towards me. I liberally sprayed it and watched as his butt swelled to the size of two beach balls.
"There," I said.
He tried to look behind him.
"That's not a badonkadonk," he said. "Spray it again."
I sighed. I'd wanted to have some fun at Pride, not stand around inflating drama queens. But I sprayed again.
"Bigger!" he cried as his ass grew bigger and tighter in his expanding shorts.
"You know what?" I said. "Fine."
I began to liberally spray his ass and soon it was lifting him off the ground.
"Stop it!" he shouted, turning upside down. "Stop spraying my ass!"
"Okay," I replied and sprayed him in the face three times. In a few moments, he could at least lean forward as his head was now six feet high as he floated in the air.
"Fucking stop!" he cried.
I probably should have, but I was getting carried away. I sprayed the rest of him and he puffed into a great big human balloon with a giant ass.
"What the fuck did you do to my Gregory?" the next guy in line asked.
It seemed the tail end of the line was a clique led by Gregory, the guy who was now struggling around in the air. It was about a half dozen or so, but it was just me and Elvis versus them.
We started spraying wildly at them, and they began plumping up in different ways. Some of them had huge hands or feet, while some had misshapen pecs or arms or legs or heads now.
"Come at us!" Elvis shouted. "We need more balloons for the Pride Parade!"
They moved in and we started spraying. We treated the grumpy gays with equality: they all got blown up to balloon size at our hands and floated with Gregory in the air. We looked at them and laughed. Believe me, a leather daddy who's suddenly a hairy, flesh-colored round ball with a lump for a head with a handlebar moustache floating in the air is one of the funniest things I've ever seen.
And that was when the police stopped us for disturbing the peace and we got arrested.
"So you're telling me that this spray turns people into balloons?" officer Ned asked. I'd of course told him the whole story. I just thought you might like to hear my side a bit better.
"Yeah," I replied. "You see my boyfriends here, Rob Jones and Justin Aps?"
Justin and Rob had started to sag a little but had been brought in for questioning with the rest of us.
"Okay, I admit that something happened to them," he said, "but a spray, that's bull!"
"You don't believe me?" I asked.
He grabbed the spray bottle with a look of pure annoyance and then liberally soaked himself with it.
"Look, nothing's happening!" he shouted as he sprayed.
And then he crushed the questioning table under his rapidly expanding mass. Elvis and I stood and held Rob and Justin towards us as we watched him grow from a fit police officer to a blimp inside a tiny room, nearly filling it. His face had expanded into a huge ball that was rapidly engulfed by the rest of his body which had lost almost all definition.
Pam the secretary opened the door to the office and shrieked.
"It's okay," Elvis said. "He just tested some evidence."
He picked up the spray bottle from the floor.
"I was just coming to tell him that your bail was just paid," said Pam. "Is he going to be okay?"
"It wears off in three hours," Rob said. "Or you could pop him some Alka-Seltzer if you got some."
Pam looked curiously at Rob.
"Who paid our bail?" Justin asked.
"It was the owner of that big gay bar on the square," Pam replied, and then resumed staring at Ned. "Rosa's, I think it's called?"
"So we can go?" I asked.
"Yeah, sure," she said. Then she bit her lip and muttered, "Maybe I can finally get him to notice me."
We walked out of the room and she walked in. I really hope she had fun.
There were still a few hours left at Pride when we got back and our lovely lesbian balloons were just coming down and went to go rejoin their girlfriends.
Gregory and his friends were still inflated and hanging around in mid-air.
The owner of Rosa's bar—a guy in his forties wearing a tight rainbow-striped tank top and skinny jeans—approached us.
"I don't blame you for what you did," he said. "Those guys are in my bar all the time and are pretty rude. They could use a put down."
We tied some cords to Gregory and his friends and gave them a "refresh mist," which just made them grow bigger. It was about time for the Pride parade to finish off PrideFest, and Elvis' taunt from earlier actually proved a good idea. We attached them to the few floats in the parade. They were definitely a big hit. After the parade, we left them tied up in the square. When they finally deflated, they could get themselves loose and go. We were told later that they still went to Rosa's, but were now a little better behaved.
After Pride, we were invited to a big party where we got dubbed "the Balloon Animals." It was just a fitting name as any. We didn't do any free samples at the party, we'd had enough of inflating for the day. But we gave our host—who happened to be one of our lovely lesbians—a bottle of the spray we hadn't opened. I hope she and her girlfriend have a blast!
"That was fun," I said as we headed home.
"Totally," Rob commented.
"I met a designer at the party," Justin said. "Next year, they'll hook us up with some spandex costumes so we look even better."
Elvis looked out the window of our car.
"You okay?" I asked.
"Yeah," he replied, "but I kind of miss using inflatium sometimes. The spray's fine, but I kind of liked the hoses."
"I like your hose," Justin cracked.
"I get what you mean," Rob said. "Sometimes, you like something going in. Maybe I should order some more for old times' sake."
Things were about to get wilder.