I’m not sure when it first started. I mean, it was just another, perfectly normal day at high school, nothing special. My clothes first started feeling snug near the end of Block 3, and they got tighter on the bus ride home. At first I thought they might have shrunk, but then I started noticing the little paunch protruding from my stomach. I managed to get off the bus without anyone noticing and ran to my room without even acknowledging the family member who tried to greet me. I briefly heard my mom say that she was going to the store, but in a moment I had closed my bedroom door and locked it.
I very nearly tore off my shirt, being a little more careful with my bra, and examined my belly. I didn’t need to look very hard to tell that it had swollen considerably, and another look confirmed that my breasts were affected as well. I was already looking a few months pregnant, and my boobs looked like they could put any porn star to shame. The removal of my jeans revealed a round, sexy butt.
Now, normally I would probably have enjoyed most of these changes--I stress the word most--but the problem was I was still growing, which would put a damper on any situation. My panties were already digging into my hips, and my belly had progressed another few months pregnancy. My breasts were wavering on the line between DD and E cup.
To shorten this to a Reader’s Digest super-condensed version, I’ll just skim through the next bit. After my panties shot off I decided that I didn’t want to be stuck in my room in case I got too big for the door. I left my room with the intention of telling my mom to call the hospital, but remembered her saying she was going to the store. I tried getting to the phone myself but tripped and landed on my huge belly. After that I was unable to get up and spent the next half hour gradually expanding until the extent of my movement was flapping my hands, wiggling my feet, and turning my head. The rest of me was a huge ball.
I’m sure my mom got quite a surprise when she came home to see my crotch(or where it used to be) sticking out for all the world to see on my spherical body. Needless to say, an ambulance was dispatched to our house immediately. They had a tough time fitting me into it, but they managed and I was carted into the hospital on a spare delivery cart(the stretcher was too small).
There ends the first part of my story, and here is the next:
The doctors had pretty much no idea how I became inflated. Yes, that’s right, inflated. They managed to figure out that I was filled with standard, run-of-the-mill, perfectly normal air. I was essentially a living balloon. And like a balloon, I was stretched rather taut. The doctors said that my skin was very thin in some places, which was fairly apparent to me, since I could see veins threading their way all across my body. They also said that, since it was thin, they had to be careful or I might pop. Now, I dunno about them, but that’s not exactly the kind of thing you say to a girl like me. Especially when I’m pretty much immobile. I guess they’ll give me shots and stuff in my hand or something.
However, that was just about the extent of their knowledge. Everything else was just a big cloud of “I don’t know”s. For instance, while they knew I was inflated, they didn’t know how it happened or why my body was even able to withstand this much. They assumed that my ultra-sensitive skin was caused by nerve endings being stretched, but they weren’t sure. They didn’t know why my breasts had been spared mostly; they were still E cups, but they had remained where they had been before: right below my face and still right next to eachother. The doctors also had no idea why I seemed to be suffering no ill effects. Well, other than being immobile and in danger of popping if stuck with a pin in the right place. So, in short, the docs were clueless.
Did I mention my skin? It’s driving me crazy. The weirdest thing about it is that I still have the sensation of things touching specific parts of my body. You can touch some random spot in my lower hemisphere(yes, that’s how the docs refer to it, my upper and lower hemisphere), and to me it feels like you’re groping my ass. A spot in my upper hemisphere could easily be my shoulder or elbow. One of the most bizarre feelings I’ve ever had is to see someone trace a wide circle around my hand and have it feel like they’re wrapping their hand around my elbow. And my skin is so maddeningly sensitive. Even an air current will make my sex start dripping, and something touching me’ll nearly make me orgasm. Touch my crotch? I pass out. Literally.
Now, you’re probably wondering why I don’t like this added feature to my body’s functions. Well, I’m sure I’d love it if I were normal, but when you lack arms, it’s kind of hard to relieve the, erm... “tension.” It just sort of builds up during the day and the only way to relieve it is to try rubbing myself against the sheets in my hospital cot. But hey, at least it’s exercise.
Oh, yeah, exercise. The docs make me work out every day, since apparently in my present state it’s “easy to acquire excess fat.” They put me in this room covered floor-to-ceiling in shag carpeting. I honestly don’t want to know what they used it for before I arrived. Anyway, I use my hands and feet as best I can to try and roll around, which I’m surprisingly good at. If I get a foot or a hand right level with the ground I can go spinning towards the opposite wall like a bowling ball. I’ve been thinking of asking them to put some big bowling pins in here. No, seriously, I could make this a sport. Human bowling. All you need is an air pump and some bowling pins and you’re set!
All kidding aside, it’s really not that uncomfortable being inflated. Sure, your skin is sensitive enough to make you orgasm and sure, it is rather embarrassing to have someone help you go to the bathroom, but it’s rather nice. It’s like having your own built in cushion. If it weren’t for my skin I could probably sleep right on the floor. And having parents who are rich does make things easier. I even have my own custom-made hospital gown that allows me to maintain a bit of modesty. I get bathed daily by a team of expert attendants. The docs have set up a computer for me to go on the web. They’ve split this keyboard so I can type with both hands, and a little roller mouse to control with my right hand. I’ve actually found a few sites on the web that cater to inflation enthusiasts. Who knew that there was an entire fetish devoted to blowing up like a balloon? I’ve already sent them pictures to prove my claims. Needless to say, I’ve become a bit of a celebrity.
They just admitted another girl in the same predicament as me. Same age, same school, even. We’ve become good friends, and the fact that now we’ve both got someone to “help” with certain sexual urges certainly played a part.
All in all, it’s rather nice. At least I don’t have to go to school.