Claire shut off the engine of her '96 Tempo across the street from her destination. One of her old sorority sisters was having a get-together with some old university friends. Claire was hesitant to go, not sure if she wanted others to know what had (or more precisely had not) become of her. Five years after graduating and she was still working at the McDonald's, albeit as the manager now, not a cashier. Judging from the cars in the driveway, most of her old buddies seemed to be doing pretty well for themselves. There were a few nice-looking sports cars parked in the driveway of the two-garage house. It's not that she didn't like her lifestyle, she just didn't want it compared to those her friends'. Shaking her head, Claire opened the door. This was supposed to be a fun and casual thing. Nobody there was going to rag on her, not if she still knew her friends.
Claire approached the house, black purse swinging at her side. From the sounds of things, they had started without her. She rang the doorbell and waited, adjusting her baby blue blouse, tucking it into faded bell bottoms of which she was very proud (they were originals). Just as she was making sure she wasn't showing too much skin, the door opened.
Amy looked fantastic. Being married seemed to have brought out the best in her. "Claire, come on in. You look great." Claire smiled.
"Thanks Amy, you always were nice. You look astounding, but you look so different."
"It's this new moisturizer, I swear. Come in, come inside. Hey everybody, Claire's here!" A shout erupted from the living room. Claire grinned as she stepped into what seemed like history. It seemed she still knew her friends; but that's what good friends are all about.
A few drinks later, everyone was talking like old times. Even Amy's husband fit seamlessly into the group of old friends. Everybody was a bit past tipsy and caught in a haze of reminiscence. Michelle was giving her account of what happened one night when she disappeared from a kegger for three hours. Francis was admiring a pen given to him by his boss and fingering the inscription.
"That's a pretty snazzy looking pen there, Francis." Steve interrupted. "Can I have a look?"
"Sure." He handed it over. "My boss gave it to me for getting approval for my design of the new arena."
"Really? That's great." Michelle praised. "Congratulations"
"That you. You know, that pen the saved my life the other day. I was about to cross the street when it fell out of my pocket. I bent over to pick it up and out of nowhere came a huge truck." Francis held his fingers an inch apart. "It missed me by that much."
"Jeez, drivers are getting worse every year. There used to be a time when you didn't have to look both ways before crossing the street." said Claire.
Amy snorted. "Maybe wherever you grew up. It was never like that in the city. Drivers always have been and always will be bad. People drive too aggressively now."
Harold, Amy's husband, agreed. "I know, I used to be a driver at work. I just couldn't take it anymore. I had to leave that job.
"Anyway, back to the kegger. Michelle, tell me more about my wife before I met her. Was she as weird then?" Amy hit Harold on the shoulder; everyone else snickered. "You're gonna pay for that." she threatened.
"Where was I? Running from the squirrel?" Aronld nodded. "I must have been tripping. Maybe I'd had a few too many tokes, but the squirrel scared the bejeezus out of me. I thought it was a wolf or something. I was hiding in the woods for half an hour hoping the squirrel wouldn't get me, crawling from bush to bush. Then I found Claire and Jason." Claire stopped grinning. That was when she and Jason had broken up. She'd thought they were alone. "I was going to go say hi, but they looked 'busy.' The funny thing was, it looked like Claire's boobs were huge, like melons, and they got bigger." Steve looked at Claire, at her face. "Then Jason stopped, pushed her away, said something, and left. I felt awful for you, Claire. That's when I went to find Amy. She's better at helping with that kind of thing."
"You must have been tripping, Michelle." Amy laughed "A person's boobs don't just grow like that. Besides, she didn't have huge boobs when I got there." Everyone laughed except Steve and Claire. Steve was still looking at Claire, and Claire looked like she'd been punched in the gut.
"They did grow, didn't they?" Steve asked when it had quietened down a bit. "Your breasts were bigger then, weren't they?" Claire didn't deny it. Instead she looked down.
"That's why Jason left me." She explained. "He called me a freak of nature. It hurt so much, but I can't help what I am. I didn't want anyone else to know. I was afraid of the same thing happening. You guys don't think I'm a freak, do you?"
Steve shook his head, but Amy burst out. "What? You're saying you can blow up your boobs? This I gotta see."
Claire sighed. She was afraid of this. She didn't want to become a plaything. Claire closed her eyes and inhaled. She filled her lungs and kept going. Everyone's jaw dropped as her blouse pulled tight across her chest and gaps formed between the buttons. When Claire opened her eyes, she saw everyone staring agape at her.
"Oh my lord," whispered Steve.
"That is so unbelivably cool Claire. How do you do it?" Michelle demanded.
Amy got a huge smile on her face, as did everyone else there. Claire started to smile too. These were her friends she realized. Anyone who couldn't accept her, she didn't want them as a friend anyway.
"It's just something I've always been able to do. I'm not sure how it works. All I know is whatever comes in has to go out the same way."
Francis put away his pen. "You mean you can use other things besides air?"
"Oh sure, it can be anything. Water, air, Kool-Aid, beer, helium… it will all work. I can prove it if you want."
"Please do." Franics leaned back in his chair with smug grin on his face. He'd called her bluff.
"Ok." She turned to Amy. "Amy, do you have a big bowl or pitcher I could use?"
"In the kitchen. I think we have an empty juice pitcher, right honey?"
"I think we do. I'll get it for you." Harold offered.
"Would you be so kind? Fill it with water too, please."
Steve cleared his throat. "So, how did you find out you could do this, Claire?"
"When I tried out for the track and field team in high school. I was never so out of breath. At the end of my run I was all swollen up like the Michelin Man. I didn't know what was going on. The coach took me to the hospital. I slowly deflated on the way and was back to normal when we got there. They took x-rays and asked questions, but they couldn't figure it out. After that my parents didn't want me in track and field. I just had to find out what happened though, so I kept running and eventually learned how to control it."
Harold came back with a pitcher full of water. "Here you go, Claire." he said and handed it to her.
"Thank you Harold." Claire rested the pitcher in her lap. Francis leaned forwards as Claire's breasts returned to their former size in one long exhalation. She looked around, grinned, and said, "Bottoms up." She raised the pitcher to her lips, tilted her head back, and started to drink. The effect was immediate. Quicker than the last time, Claire's breasts began to bloat. This time as they grew, her boobs also started to sag, pulled down by the weight of the water inside them. They grew as big as before, and bigger. Her strained blouse protested. Claire stopped drinking, but not fast enough. One button broke off with a snap and went flying across the room. Her blouse relaxed, exposing several inches of previously non-existent cleavage.
"Oh my," Steve said, then laughed. "That's incredible."
"I think you went a bit far that time, Claire." Amy snickered. "We can fix it after you let the water out. I have a sewing kit upstairs. The bathroom's down the hall when you're ready."
"It doesn't come out like that," Claire corrected her. "It comes out whichever hole it went in. It has to come out my mouth. Any sink will do." Michelle arched an eyebrow. "What do you mean whichever? You didn't, did you?" Claire's blush gave her reply. Michelle laughed, then laughed harder and the puzzled look on Amy's when she asked what Claire did. "She tried it 'south of the border.’" Amy giggled, Harold guffawed, and Claire went absolutely crimson.
"So your breasts grow when you use you use you mouth. What happens when you use, umm, other holes?" Amy asked when she got control of her giggle.
"I can't believe I'm telling you guys this. When I go 'down south,' it's the same as anywhere else. Every time I take something in it's evenly distributed. These grew," Claire lightly touched her chest, "because that's where I wanted the water to go."
"So you could make anything inflate?" asked Francis.
"Yep. My belly, butt, hands, feet, ears, nose, you name it."
"Cool," he replied, and took out his pen again.
Several hours and bottles of wine later, Claire had to go to the bathroom. Pretty much everybody was drunk except Steve, who'd taken it upon himself to make sure nobody tried to leave who wasn't able. Claire made her way to the bathroom with the help of a steadying hand on the wall. After doing what had to be done, Claire decided to shrink her boobs back to normal. She was starting to dislike the attention they were getting.
Claire leaned over the sink and opened her mouth. The water came gushing out like a fountain. Some splashed on the edge of the sink and over onto the linoleum floor. Her breasts grew lighter and smaller as the water left them, pulling up and out of her gaping blouse. That's when boisterous singing started in the livingroom. She smiled, remembering the drinking songs of college, but she stopped when she heard the door open. Claire looked and saw Francis standing there. She started to turn away when her foot slipped on the wet linoleum. Claire fell and hit her head on the edge of the sink. She slumped to the ground, unconscious. Nobody in the livingroom heard a thing.
Francis stood in the door of the bathroom looking in. He hadn't known Claire was there. He knelt down beside her. It didn't look like she was bleeding, and she was still breathing. Francis couldn't find her pulse in her neck. Panicking, her put his ear on her chest where he could hear the steady thumping of her heart.
Francis let out the breath he'd been inadvertently holding. Claire seemed in no danger. He lifted his head off her chest. Her rosy nipples were lewdly exposed and looking luscious. Francis idly wondered if there was any water left in her breasts at all. Gingerly, he cupped one of Claire's breasts. When she didn't respond he started to knead it gently. He was unable to tell if there was any water, but kneading her boob felt so nice that Francis started kneading the other breast.
Claire's body slowly started to respond. Francis felt her nipples hardening against his palms. Addled by drink, he thought she must be enjoying it because her body was responding. He started squeezing harder. Claire's flesh bulged between his fingers, but he still couldn't tell if there was any water inside her. Struck by an idea, Francis released her breasts and started dragging her to the tub.
The shower head came off the end of the hose easily, and with Claire sitting in the tub, the hose reached her mouth. Francis turned the water on low, ready to take the hose out if she started to choke, which did not happen. Encouraged, he turned up the flow. Claire's body started to expand. Hardy noticeable, the first evidence was in her face. Her previously sharp nose and pronounced cheek bones softened. Her lips became fuller and more luscious. Francis gently stroked her face. He thought she looked better now than when she had walked in the front door.
A few minutes later, a roll developed underneath Claire's chin. Francis' hand trailed down her slightly swollen neck, over her soft shoulder, and pushed her gaping blouse down. Her arms were larger than before. Francis had to tug to get the blouse off her other arm. Creases were starting to form in her flesh as her parts began to swell over one another.
Francis wasn't sure why or how, but somehow this was having a profound effect on him. He watched for a while, probing this dark place inside him. He was too preocupied with that, and what was going no before him, to notice the darkness start spread. His baser instincts started to take over. This swollen lovely before him yearned to be loved. Francis' hands ran gently around her developing bust. Where before were tea cups now were tea pots. Unable to help himself, Francis leaned over and, light as a feather, licked one areola in diminishing circles until he was just licking her flattened nipple. Her expanding tummy was squishy to his prodding, and her waist had just folded over the top of her jeans.
Caught up in the spectacle before him, Francis turned on the water as far as it would go. Claire's inflation rate tripled. Soon her legs were like sausages, stuffed in her bell bottoms. Seams were strained down the length of the pants. Her calves and ankles flared out with the bell, and the one foot Francis had managed to get the sock off of was little more than a round ball with five painted toenails on the surface. He struggled with the other sock and soon had it off too. Almost faster then the eye could see, her foot swelled into a sphere the size of a basketball.
Claire's torso filled the tub from side to side. Her once graceful neck had disappeared into her body, even her head was starting to be absorbed. Insignificant breasts had become huge, and disappeared again. Rosy circles were the only hint of their existance. Her arms were like hotdogs with five red fingernails on the ends. Francis was incredibly turned on by this. He didn't know why, but he had to see what she looked like with nothing on in this swollen state. His hands dove into the fold at her waist. It took considerable force to undo her button, but the fly on the jeans fairly flew open. Her groin leapt out, instantly straining her light pink panties. Francis tugged at the jeans like a man possessed; trying to free Claire's legs from their confines. It took a few minutes, but he wretsled them down to her ankles. He had to squeeze water from her feet to get the jeans actually off.
The entire tub was filled with Claire. It had been a half an hour since Francis had first turned the water on. It had been three quarters of an hour since Claire had left the living room. Steve was starting to wonder where she was, but in the bathroom was only Francis and Claire. Claire's head was gone. Her face was stretched out over the blob her body had pretty much entirely become. Everything except her groin was bloated beyond belief. The only thing stopping that was her light pink panties, but not for long. There was a creak, then Claire's panties burst at the seams. Francis' eyes nearly popped out at what happened next. With speed unmatched by anything he'd ever seen, Claire's crotch shot down her legs. Her body became one shapeless mass. The previouly neatly trimmed triangle of dense pubic hair became a sparse circle two feet wide. Her labia did not exist, nor her clitoris. There was just a smooth bald patch in the middle of the circle with a tight hole on the bull's eye.
The massive and sudden shift finally brought Claire around. Her eyes slowly opened and she tried to shake her head to clear it. She couldn't. Why couldn't she move her head? Why did she feel so full? Why was there a hose in her mouth? It felt like someone had a hand deep inside her, caressing her most intimate parts. She tried to move a hand but couldn't. She tried to kick but couldn't. She did the only thing she could do. She spit out the hose and screamed.
Steve sat bolt upright. That sounded like Claire. He'd been getting worried. He lept to his feet, followed by Harold who was not as far gone as everyone else. Steve ran to the bathroom, Harold lumbered after him. The first thing he saw was Claire, rising out of the tub like a loaf of bread. The only think that made him think it was her was the colour. The he saw one scared eyeball an he knew. Next he saw Francis looking frightened, his pants undone and his prized pen in his hand, looking ready to stab with two things.
Francis jumped when he heard Claire scream. He'd been playing with the bull's eye in Claire's groin, and himself, when it happened. She wasn't supposed to wake up. Even if she did, she was supposed to be enjoying this. He was soo close. He couldn't have her ruin it now. He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out his prized pen. He lifted the pen up, then felt an agonizing pain in his shoulder as his arm was wrenched back and he was thrown to the floor. "What the fuck are you doing Francis?!" Steve shouted. Harold grabbed Francis from the floor. "That's just wrong, man." he said, looking at Claire. Harold carried Francis like a baby and tossed him out the back door.
Claire was crying as the water streamed out her mouth. Never in her life had anything even close to this happened. Nothing could have prepared her for such an event. She felt utterly betrayed and violated. She promised herself she'd never inflate for anyone again. Steve was saying something, but Claire wasn't listening.
A half hour later, Claire was empty. She wasn't physically hurt except a bump on the head. As soon as the others had heard, the party was over. They could not abide such an act happening in such close proximity. The joy was gone for the evening. Amy lent Claire a top to wear while Steve took her home. It was a quiet drive. Steve didn't know what to say and Claire didn't feel like speaking. She was staring out window at the houses as they drove by. Her tears had dried up a while ago.
Soon they were at her place. Steve helped Claire out of the car and walked her to her apartment door on the fifth floor. "I'm sorry I didn't get there sooner, Claire." he said. Claire didn't say anything. She unlocked her door, opened it, and stepped inside. As the door was about to shut Steve said good bye. The door clicked shut. Steve stared at it and clenched his fist. He couldn't believe what Francis had done; what it looked like he was going to do. Steve felt his hand curl into a fist. He wanted to hit something. Instead he started walking to the elevator. He was half way there where Claire's door opened again. "Steve, please stay with me tonight." she pleaded. He did.
When morning came, Steve was still awake in Claire's living room. She emerged from the bedroom in a rumpled night gown. "Thank you Steve." she said. "Would you like some breakfast?"
"Yeah, sure." He followed her into the kitchen.
Claire cracked four eggs into a frying pan. "What would make someone do that Steve?" She asked as she scrambled the eggs.
"I don't know. Alcohol, insecurity, mental instability, who knows. Too many things." Steve replied.
"Do you think I'm weird?"
"What? You have a very special talent, Claire. Something nobody else has as far as I know. Does it make you different? Yes. Does it make you weird? Yes. Exciting? Definitely."
Claire was quiet for a bit. She pushed half the eggs onto a plate for Steve, and the other half onto an empty plate for herself. "Thank you Steve; for last night, for what you just said. Thank you." She smiled at him.
Steve grinned. "No problem." They sat at the kitchen table and started eating. "Do you want to hang around for a bit?" Claire asked. Steve nodded.
"Do you like my 'talent'?" Steve stopped chewing and swallowed his mouthful. Slowly, he nodded. Claire was relieved. "That's good Steve." Maybe she would relax her promise to herself.
The lights at their table were dim. Steve and Claire were having a quiet dinner together. The waiter filled their wine glasses and faded away. Both were partially done their fish and chatting softly.
"I felt I was right to kick those guys out of the restaurant. I mean they were loud, rude, and were disturbing the other customers and their children." Claire stated.
Steve nodded. "I totally agree with you Claire. So what's the problem?"
"Apparently the owner didn't think it was my place to make that kind of a decision." Steve frowned, Claire continued. "At the end of the day he called me to his office and told me out. That's why I was a little late getting here."
Steve shook his head. "No way you should have gotten in trouble for that. Someone has to show these kids what kind of behaviour is not acceptable. If their parents won't do it, then it's up to other people."
Claire thought on that and finished chewing. "But why should it be. It's a parent's responsibility to make sure a child grows up right, not everyone else's. These people aren't even half our age. Who am I to tell them what to and what not to do. I don't even know them."
"Yes, but as manager it's your responsibility to ensure a safe and harassment free environment for your patrons." Steve sipped his wine. "If not, you may well go out of business."
"I get it; I just wish the owner would. He's too... something."
"Poopy-brained?" Steve suggested. Claire giggled.
"Poopy-brained? I can't believe you just said that Steve. Yes, that fits him perfectly." Steve laughed at that, so did Claire.
"Joking aside now, Claire. I have something I want to ask you and I figure now is as good a time as any. Actually, it's the reason I wanted to meet you here."
"Pray tell, what is it dear?"
"I know you're an independent woman, and I know you have all your own furniture and stuff, but sometimes I just think that my apartment feels somehow empty." Claire knew what was coming next. "I was hoping I could fill that emptiness with you Claire. Would you like to move in with me?"
"Yes Steve, there is nothing I would like more."
"Excellent. Do you want to come over after dinner?"
Claire took a deep breath and strained her blouse. She looked at Steve and smiled. "Why wait?" Steve signalled the waiter and asked for the bill.
Francis thought before he replied to the psychologist. "I don't know why. I just absolutely had to get that deal. What does this have to do with anything?"
The doctor leaned back in is chair. "I think that perhaps each time things don't go your way you have problems sleeping. Tell me about this arena. You said that's when you started having problems sleeping and it just got worse from there. Was there anything about this deal that didn't go your way?"
"It was pretty much my original design." Francis said simply.
"Pretty much?"
"Well yeah. I didn't have to change much to get the deal. It's essentially my original design, but they didn't like my ceiling. They wanted a plain concrete ceiling. Nothing too fancy they said. I know my job. Like I said, it was no big deal.
"But it was soon after that that I started having problems. Do you think that was the start of it?"
"I don't know Francis. You tell me."
Francis thought about it for a bit, and then shook his head. "No, I don't think so. But wait, what happened that night?"
The doctor leaned forwards. "What night Francis? What happened?"
"I'm not sure Doctor. It was a party with some university buddies and I had way too much to drink. I remember heading to a bar after the party and waking up in the tank. What the hell did I do?" The doctor was silent, letting Francis figure it out. "Claire? I remember her. Oh my god." Francis covered his face with his hands.
"What happened, Francis?" The psychologist prodded.
"I think I almost killed her." Francis' voice was muffled by his hands. "I was thrown out by Amy's husband. Steve stopped me." The memories were coming back now. "I told them about the arena deal and showed them my pen. This pen." He said taking it out of his pocket and showing to the doctor. "I remember Claire... inflating."
"Inflating?" The psychologist sounded surprised. "What do you mean?"
"I mean inflating, like a tire or a balloon. And I -- I forced myself upon her. Forced her to inflate. She was unconscious doctor."
"Did you knock her out?"
"No, no, it was an accident. But what happened after wasn't. Good god, I almost popped her. With this pen I almost popped her."
"Popped?" The doctor raised his eyebrows.
Francis sat up on the couch. "Yes, I nearly stabbed her while she was inflated, but I didn't. I didn't because of Steve. Fuck! What the hell was I thinking?"
"Why did you want to do that Francis?" The doctor asked.
"Because she woke up and I wasn't done. I wasn't finished doing what I was doing." Francis put his head in his hands.
"What were you doing?"
"Masturbating."
"And you didn't finish?"
"No."
"What made you want to do that?"
"I don't know." Francis replied. "The alcohol?"
"It could be, but I think it goes deeper than that Francis. Why did you start to force yourself upon this Claire? Were you maybe making up for something? some feeling of inadequacy?"
Francis looked up at the psychologist. "Do you think that happened because of the arena roof?"
The doctor leaned back in his chair. This Claire person intrigued him. He filed that name away for later. "I don't know, you tell me."
Claire waited for Steve to come home. She had been out of work for a month and Steve had not had any luck selling his articles. After the incident at the restaurant the owner started to pay extra attention to Claire. He started finding fault in everything she did and essentially made working there unbearable. Barely a month after the incident he fired her saying she was causing tension in the workplace and was not contributing to a healthy working environment. She filed for Employment Insurance, but the paperwork had not made it through yet. She also tried looking for a job, but with the economic downturn people were not spending as much as they used to, so companies could not hire as much as they used to.
They'd gotten a letter from the insurance company. It was too much. Had Claire not been there without a job Steve might have been able to cover it, but supporting two essentially unemployed people had wiped out her saving and taken a toll on his. It looked like she would have to sell her car. That thought she did not relish. Claire put the letter down and picked up the next one. It was addressed to her, and hand written. Curious, she opened it and pulled out a letter with small, neat script. It read:
Dear Claire:
What follows is a proposition you might find interesting, but; before you begin, please know that I will not divulge your secret no matter what the outcome of this proposition. I am quite well off and can compensate you handsomely for your services should you wish to render them.
I heard of your secret though a slip of the tongue in conversation. Rest assured that it was not from your current love interest. Of him I know nothing about save that he cares for you quite deeply to have sheltered you in such a way at such a delicate time in your life. My information comes from another source. Suffice to say I trust this source, and am putting my self at risk of considerable ridicule from my peers should he be wrong. I am also putting my job at considerable risk of being terminated should you take this to any kind of authority.
My proposition is thus: you display your talent at a birthday party of a close friend of mine. I wish for you to be a part of the party, not an act in the party. I want for you to enjoy the company of me and my friends. In turn we will enjoy your company, and your talent at your discretion. If anything happens in the vein of what happened before, rest assured that you will be protected and there will be repercussions against the instigator.
If you wish to take up my offer, please mail a note of confirmation to my P.O. Box below. Please also include your phone number that we might seal this deal in a timely fashion.
Sincerely,
An interested party
Claire lowered the letter. Her first reaction was fear. Who was this person? How much did they know? Who told them? She nearly picked up the phone to call the police, but paused. Handsome compensation? She and Steve did have a lack of funds. Claire put the letter aside. Would it really be that bad? Maybe if Steve came along to ensure nothing happened.
Steve didn't know what to think when Claire told him of the invite. He was concerned for sure, but Claire seemed to want to go. If she wasn't sitting on his lap he'd have been pacing. "I worry for you dear, I don't want to see you get hurt again."
"I won't go if you can't come." Claire said simply. Steve still looked worried. "I won't go big Steve if that's what you're afraid of."
"No, that's not it."
"Then what is it?"
Steve shook his head. "I don't know. It just seems kind of convenient. That and the fact that he won't give you his name. I don't like his anonymity."
"I won't go without you Steve. You can be my protection."
"Alright, but I still don't like it much."
"Well then, are you afraid I'll find someone who appreciates me that has much more money, and is much better looking than you?"
Steve was shocked. Then his brain switch gears. "You tramp. What if I made a million dollars? Would you still blow up for me?"
"Maybe a part of me would." Claire grinned, sucking air though her teeth. Her flat tummy started to curve.
Steve grinned at her. "What part of you?"
"Any part you want." Her shirt was getting tight around her belly. She stood up. "I think you like when this part grows though." Claire arched her back and her shirt slid up her belly, resting under her breasts. Her pale skin glowed in the soft light.
"Yes, I do like when that part grows. But I like to see all of you." He leaned forward and grabbed hold of a belt loop and pulled her close.
"What are you doing?" Claire playfully asked. "Am I turning you on?"
"Oh no," said Steve as he unbuckled her belt and unbuttoned her pants. "You don't turn me on." He unzipped her pants and pulled them down. "I just don't think we can afford to burst anymore clothes." Claire's belly protruded past her breasts. She coyly tried to cover her panties but couldn't manage it with her belly. Steve pulled her down on his lap again.
"But you're so hard down there Steve." Claire said as she wiggled on him. She lifted his hands to her breasts. "Are you sure I don't turn you on?"
"I don't know, Claire." Steve slipped his hand under her shirt and gently squeezed her breasts though her bra. "It could be that sexy lady I saw walking by the car today."
Claire pushed herself off his lap. "Sexy lady walking by the car, huh? Was she sexier than me?" Claire posed. Her tummy was the size of a globe.
"I dunno, she had bigger breasts than you do."
"Really." Claire sucked in a deep breath. Her breasts swelled to a nice D cup, running over the top of her bra. "Were they this big?" Her shirt was straining. It was obviously not meant to contain such bounty.
"They were bigger, and they looked heavier."
"Well how about you and me head over to the sink and I'll see what I can do." Claire ran her hands over her curves and behind her back. Her breasts relaxed when she unhooked her bra. "Tell me about her butt too. Was it nicer than mine?"
"Jigglier."
"Hmm..." Claire sighed and started to pull Steve towards the kitchen sink. "It looks like I have some work to do then." she said.
The house was fantastic. It sprawled over two lots of land. The circular drive had at least twelve cars parked in it. Claire and Steve approached the front door with trepidation. Claire had the last time she inflated in front of others running though her head. She gripped Steve's arm a little tighter, just to reassure herself.
The doorbell sounded like chimes. When the door opened, Claire and Steve were quickly ushered in. "Hello, Claire," said the man, "and you must be Steve. My name is Dr. Malfour but everybody here calls me Gill, and I would appreciate if you both would too."
Claire recognized the voice from the phone and shook his hand. "I'm glad we can finally meet Gill."
"I'm glad I can meet such a marvelous lady. The pleasure is mine."
Steve shook his hand after Claire. "Gill. Nice to meet you, but I still have some concerns about what is to happen here tonight. You know what happened the last time. I would like to be around when it happens."
"Understandable, Steve. Indeed I would be concerned if you were not. Nobody else here knows what is to happen. This arrangement is private and the time and place are up to Claire. Nobody else knows what she can do, so she can inflate privately if she does not want to expose herself.
"Please, both of you come in and I shall make introductions."
Claire did not immediately follow. "What's wrong, Claire?" asked Gill
"He's not here, is he?" Claire meant Francis.
"No he is not. He and I know each other, but not on this level. He is not here."
"Good." Claire visibly relaxed. "Please, introduce us."
"Excellent. First I shall introduce you to the birthday boy. If you'll just follow me. Ah, Sam, this is Claire and Steve."
The party was taking place mostly in the kitchen and dining room. There was wine in abundance and food was readily available. Steve was discussing the merits of freelance work with a man that Claire did not recognize. She had finished her third glass of wine in two hours and was feeling a little buzzed. She was dancing along with several other people, one of whom was Sam. Sam was the owner of The Grill, a gourmet restaurant down town, and the birthday boy. He was a pretty good dancer too. They danced together for a few songs. Claire was having a good time, but it was tempered by what she was invited here to do.
After a few more songs Claire looked around and saw that Steve was busy. She was ready to do what she came to. She didn't want to disappoint Steve by doing it without him, but she wasn't sure how long her courage would hold. She saw her wine glass and her throat felt dry. Her nerves were jangling; she wanted to get this over with. Claire danced her way over to Sam.
"Hey Sam, could you show me where the bathroom is?"
"Why of course, Claire. Follow me." Still dancing, Sam started towards the back of the house.
"I didn't know you took that picture. I'm impressed." Steve was surprised. The man he was talking to was none other than Roy Matheson. Steve owned two of his photo collections. "That explains why I liked it, I guess."
Roy chuckled. "I do tend to have a distinctive style for my photos. But then your articles and essays are fairly distinctive too. You have a very vivid writing style. I can almost see the photos in my head when I read your descriptions. In fact, I have a proposition for you, Steve."
"I'm listening."
"I'm looking to branch my work out into something more creative; less grounded in reality. I'd love to do an entirely fantastic, multi-media project. I have a friend who is a music producer who wants to expand his horizons as well. Would you like to create a masterpiece with us?" Roy extended his hand for a shake.
Steve was stunned. He took Roy's hand and shook. "I would love to, Roy. Thank you for the invitation. We will all have to meet sometime to discuss." Then he caught Claire out of the corner of his eye leaving the room with Sam.
"If you'll excuse me Roy. I have something that needs to be done."
"Of course Steve. Give me a call later."
"Sure thing Roy."
Steve followed Claire and Sam through the door and down the hall. He saw them enter a room and close the door. He followed and knocked on the door. "Claire, it's Steve." he said. Claire cracked open the door and peeked out. When she saw who it was she let him in.
Claire shut the door behind her. "I don't have to go to the bathroom, Sam." she said. "I just have to give you your birthday present."
"Claire, what? What do you mean?" Sam sputtered. "I don't do that, Claire."
There was a knock on the door and someone saying they were Steve. "Hold that thought Sam." Claire checked, then ushered Steve inside. "Sam, this is my boyfriend. Your present is not what you think. In fact, I'm pretty sure I can guarantee you've never seen the like; not in real life anyway. Sam, would you get me something to drink? Get me a lot to drink."
Sam shook his head. "Look, I don't know what you plan to do, but I won't betray my wife. I don't care that she's away on business. I'm a faithful man."
"And you still will be after this." Claire assured him. "Steve is here to make sure of that. Now go get me something to drink. Do you think Gill would make you do something you wouldn't enjoy? Would he try and ruin your relationship?"
"Gill? Never. He is one of my closest friends. Alright, I'll get you a lot to drink."
After Sam had left Steve turned to Claire. "What the hell? I thought we discussed this. I was supposed to be present. What's with the sneaking off?" he asked crossly.
"I'm sorry Steve, but I couldn't wait any longer. I'm not sure my nerves can take it. Look at me." Claire held up her hand. "I'm shaking." Indeed she was.
Steve hugged her. "I know you're nervous. I am too. I love you. Remember? I just thought you wanted me to be here."
"I do, but I couldn't wait anymore. You don't know what it's like to have an ability like this Steve. Last time was horrible." Claire rested her head on his shoulder.
"They why did you agree to do this?"
She looked up at him. "Because I need to prove to myself that I'm getting over it."
There was a courteous knock, and then the door started to open. Claire and Steve separated. "I found you lots to drink like you wanted." Sam said as he came in. He held up a full bottle of wine. Claire and Steve looked at each other.
"I was thinking water, but this will do." Claire took the bottle from him and closed the door. "Sit." she commanded. The bathroom was a little cramped with three people in it, but it would do. Sam sat on the closed toilet and Steve leaned against the sink. Claire held up the bottle, sizing it up. It was one litre. That would put her up into an E cup. Her shirt could handle it. She handed the bottle to Steve and unbuttoned the first few buttons on her top. Sam shifted, obviously a little uncomfortable with what was happening. Claire bared most of her bust. She kept her areolae covered, but the inside curves of her breasts were unfettered. Steve gave her back the bottle and she raised it to her lips and paused. "Are you ready?"
Sam looked at Steve who smiled. "I don't think anyone is ready their first time." Steve advised him. Sam looked back at Claire and nodded. Claire grinned. She took the mouth of the bottle between her lips and started to drink. At first Sam didn't realize what was happening, and then his jaw fell. He breasts were expanding. Her curves became more pronounced. The bottoms of her breasts slowly slid down until they were hidden by her shirt again. All Sam could see was cleavage. He started to reach for her, but Steve put his hand on Sam's shoulder. The bottle was half done. Claire tilted her head back. The wine swirled down her throat into the reservoir of her breasts. She could feel it sitting there heavily. Her shirt was pulling tight around her burgeoning bust. Claire was glad she picked a stretchy shirt. She had however miscalculated how much her breasts would grow. Sam watched in astoundment as her shirt was pushed farther open. The pink of her areolae was creeping out the gaping neck of her shirt. He could see the bumps her erect nipples were making sliding under the shirt. Just before they came uncovered the bottle was finished.
Claire lowered the empty bottle. "Happy birthday, Sam. Compliments of Gill." Then she looked down. "Eep" she squeaked and covered up. "I'm bigger than expected."
"Oh my god." Sam said, still staring. "What?... How?... Who are you?"
"That, Sam, is my girlfriend." Steve said, smiling at Claire. "Isn't she something?" Claire blushed crimson down to her breasts.
"Thank you, Steve. Now could you help me button up?"
"Sure thing dear." Steve pushed off the sink and pulled the halves of her shirt together.
"How is that possible?" asked a still stunned Sam, sitting on the toilet. He was covering himself.
Claire smiled and started to button her shirt. "It started in High school..."
When they emerged from the bathroom half an hour later, Claire's pants fit a little tighter than they did before and it looked like she had a bit of a tummy. Her breasts still strained her shirt. The alcohol was affecting her. Her speech was starting to slur.
"I'll call you on Monday and let you know when to show up for work," Sam said to Claire. "And once again, thank-you. That was incredible." He turned to Steve. "You sir, are a very lucky man."
"I know." Steve replied and chuckled. "I think you can count yourself lucky too. Your friends are good to you. Everyone here would do anything for you. I wish one of our friends was like that." Claire and Steve had left Francis out of the story the told in the bathroom.
"Yeah, you're right. Enjoy the rest of the party, and have some cake. It's almost time it was brought out."
"Thank-you, Sam, but I think I should leave shoon." Claire slurred. "I don't want to embarash you," she pointed at him, "and him," she pointed at Steve, "and me." She pointed at herself then looked down at her body and giggled.
"I think we should probably leave." Steve suggested. "Before something regrettable happens."
"You might be right, Steve. Thank-you for coming. Are you good to drive?"
"I've only had two glasses of wine. I'm good. I will have to get Roy Matheson's number off of you at some point though."
"I'll send it home with some cake with Claire after her first day of work."
"Excellent. Thanks for having us. Get back to your party now." Steve said and shook Sam's hand.
"Bye, Sam." said Claire, and flung her arms around him. "Happy birthday."
Steve pried her off of him. "We gotta go. Bye."
"Bye bye" Claire said tipsily as Steve pulled her toward the door around the main party area.
"How was work, dear?" Steve asked Claire when she got home. She came into the living room, spun around, fell onto the sofa, and kicked off her shoes, all without dropping the box in her hands.
"It was long, and my feet hurt, but at least I have something to do now. Sam gave me this." she said, holding it out for Steve. "I think it's that piece of birthday cake. He also gave me this for you." Claire pulled a slip of paper from her pocket with a phone number on it.
Steve took the box and the paper from her and put them on the table. "I have some good news. The Herald wants to print my story on the harbour safety issue. With that and the money from Gill there should be enough to tide us over for the next month or two."
"That's great, honey," said Claire as she tilted her head back to rest it on the plush sofa. "I don't get paid for another two weeks."
"Something also came for you." Claire lifter her head. Steve showed her an envelope. It was addressed to her by name, and that was it. "I found this today in our mailbox. I don't know who it's from, but it's addressed to you." He held it out for her to take.
Claire sat up and took the envelope. She opened it and took out a piece of paper with two words on it; "I'm sorry". Confused, Claire turned the envelope over. Out of it fell two objects: two halves of a pen. One part had "Fran" engraved on it. The other part had "cis" engraved on it.