No Competition

A man sat in a booth at the dark end of the bar, a clutch of balloons drifting back and forth above his head as air currents from the heating toyed with the pretty rubber globes. His posture and alert response every time the door opened denoted he was waiting for someone with great eagerness. The perfect victim.

Mandy wasn’t concerned with who he was there to see. She liked his face and, despite reassuring herself she merely wanted to fulfill her sexual desires, she really wanted to bust up someone else’s fun. Waiting around on his own and bearing gifts, the girl he waited for must mean a lot to him. If his girl meant a lot to him it could make Mandy’s triumph all the more valuable as she stomped on their affections, getting her rocks off into the act. And with that carefully constructed foreshadowing out of the way, she homed in on her prey.

Walking with confidence bordering on hubris, she went gliding toward the end booth, the clinging, shiny, red dress wrinkling with each gentle shift of her curves, her face held carefully in the perfect, sleepy-eyed coquette pose. Laces joining the sides of her dress ran up her front, allowing her not so secret weapons ample opportunity to do their work, half globes of pale flesh taking turns to peak at their intended target in time each deliberate swaying step.

“Are those for me?” she asked, pouting the words breathily while indicating his bright, bobbling friends.

“No, my girl-friend’s due here any minute,” he replied, short but just short of terse.

“She’s not here yet and it’s late. You sure she’s coming?” She swayed to non existent music to keep her curves on undulating display, enjoying the yawing heft of her breasts against the strings that barely kept them decent.

“She’ll be here.”

“I’m here now. Why don’t you give them to me?” She indicated the balloons once more. “Then I could be your girlfriend. I’d like to be your girlfriend. If I was your girlfriend I could do all sorts of naughty things to you in this dark corner” Her hands gripped the material of her dress over her thighs and their gradual upward progress and her gyrating hips showed him that not only was the red dress inappropriate for the middle of winter, but that she had failed to dress in layers too.

“I think I’ll hold on to them just in case her meeting ran late, thanks all the same.” His response was warmer than his body language. He continued to stare intently at the door and failed to notice Mandy’s hand range upward and tug aside the material covering her left breast, the nipple and areola poking out, taut string pressing into the milky surrounding flesh.

“Your friend always this late, or just when you’ve made yourself a laughing stock carrying a bunch of kid’s toys around town in the middle of the night?”

He rounded on her and his response was unexpectedly heated. “They’re not just for kids. She’ll be here soon.” He calmed quickly. “Besides, I didn’t have to carry them around the town. The publican here is a friend and he let me use the gas tank he keeps in the back room.” Thinking his outburst meant she was at least starting to get a reaction, Mandy pressed on, her hands tweaking her exposed flesh and leaning forward over the table, letting her impressive, trussed bust hover over his face.

“I was only ask…” Mandy had glanced down at the finish line and been surprised to see his trousers tented out and all but bumping the underside of the table.

“Is that for me?” she purred.

“NO! It’s for Heather and she’ll be here any second.”

“I think you’re lying. I think you’ve been enjoying my little show…” she pirouetted and pulled her hem higher, exposing perfect hemispheres of snowy flesh as her butt passed by his eye level. “…and you’ve made me an even better present. Thank-you so much,” she gushed as she finished her spin with a full flourish of her bare crotch and much digital manipulation. She made to slide into the booth next to him but as her buttocks hit the vinyl he slid deep into the recesses and pulled the balloons down, forming a latex cloud between them.

“Now, now, don’t be shy. You and your willy have been very flattering and I intend to repay the favour. Just let me get close and we’ll see if we can’t make that nasty hard-on go away.”

“Thanks, but no thanks, came the distant, bubble muffled reply. I’m happy waiting here for Heather with my balloons.”

“But what if she arrives and you don’t have any balloons any more?” Mandy raked a nail noisily over the skin of a red balloon. “What if she finds me, sitting in your lap and a bunch of used rubber all around us?” She began to dig her nail into the red balloon’s skin. The squeaking of tortured rubber sang in the air but was cut by the words “Hi Honey.” The words were spoken chirpily and Mandy turned to see why her competitor had failed to be upset to find her, half undressed and clearly out to cause trouble, homing in on her man. This was unusual and Mandy found herself a little put off her stride.

“Hello Heather,” came the reply from deep within the balloon cocoon.

Heather noticed Mandy’s fingernail, still threatening the red balloon with destruction.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Geoff loves his balloons.”

Mandy didn’t hesitate. Her finger jabbed forward and the balloon disappeared as a red mist of flying debris. The pop rang throughout the bar.

“I’m sure he does like balloons,” she drawled, eyeing up her competition as Heather slid into the opposite seat. “He’ll like my balloons a lot more than those tiny bubbles once he’s had a taste.” She pointed at Heather’s chest and began to laugh uproariously, as though her comment had been the wittiest epithet since Wilde. She reached to her side and began squeezing the life out of a blue balloon that gave out with a satisfying bang and brought her closer to her hidden prize.

Heather leant forward. Mandy leant back and brought her hands up to defend against the coming slap. Heather’s hand shot into the balloon cloud and pulled out a silver orb. While Mandy tried to work out what this new and unexpected step was about, Heather deftly removed the clip from the balloon’s neck and held it up for Mandy and Geoff to see. Holding their full attention, she drew the balloon to her mouth, pouted and blew a deep lungfull into it. The balloon grew but all eyes were fixed on Heather’s chest. Beneath the open sides of her parka, the sensible woolen jersey and the neatly buttoned shirt, the bubbles were growing. Heather’s hands dropped to her front and cupped them. The balloon continued to weave about in front of her face. Another breath was forcefully released and the swelling deep under the many layers was more obvious. Heather’s hands were pushed aside as her breasts fought the clothing, gaps showed between buttons and the cloud of balloons around Geoff began to pulse rhythmically.

Heather raised a hand to the balloon and removed it long enough to say “Not yet honey, plenty more fun when we’re alone,” before a third breath was sent into the distended globe, causing even more sartorial torment. Heather applied both hands to the task of re-clipping the balloon’s neck. As she allowed the extra large balloon to float back amongst its friends, she took a deep breath and shot a shirt button clear across the table and between the strings holding Mandy’s far inferior balloons in position.

Mandy’s jaw dropped and she was clearly making ready for violence, even though it appeared she didn’t now how it might be expressed. Heather held up a cautioning finger. She leant forward once more, making sure to bounce heavily, newly expanded boobs flattening against the table top as she did, and pulled out a second balloon. She toyed with the yellow skin as she watched her transfixed audience.

“I learnt a new trick up on the hill tonight. One that’s going to make Geoff’s dreams come true,” there was a sudden burst of rustling among the balloons until she cast a sharp look into the middle of the clutch, “and that’s going to give you nightmares.”

She began undoing the clip and Mandy mistook the gesture.

“I can take whatever you can give me you stupid slapper. Bring it on. I could do with a few extra cup sizes. It’ll save me going under the knife again.”

Heather held the balloon neck to her mouth and inhaled. Mandy braced herself but tried to look indifferent.

Heather opened her fingers wide and breathed out, her breath joining the stream of Helium escaping from the shrinking balloon.

Mandy shrieked and clutched at her breasts. The flesh, once so prominently displayed, withdrew from sight behind its shiny curtains and then the curves the curtains skirted began to disappear. Heather’s hands followed the shrinking process inward as Heather smiled ruefully at the balloon, its skin becoming wrinkled and opaque. Mandy’s hands finished flush upon a chest flat as the proverbial board. Large, dark pockets of shiny red material showed where once all was tight and filled.

Heather flicked the balloon across the table and it caught in the formerly stretched strings, lacing back and forth over nothing.

Mandy shrieked again and leapt from the booth. Her anguished cries receded as Heather swung out and round the table to join her lover under a clutch of balloons, drifting back and forth above their heads as air currents from the heating toyed with the pretty rubber globes. They kissed and Heather explained why she’d asked him for the late rendezvous and the balloons.

Mandy ran from the terrifying power and abject humiliation she’d experienced. She blundered through the nearest door and away from the drunken stares of the bar patrons. She stumbled down a poorly lit corridor, clutching at her absent assets and crying bitter tears. She’d lost to that prissy cow. Lost a target, lost face and, most terrifying of all, lost her trump cards. She tried a door and found it unlocked. She ducked into a darkened room where she could hide her embarrassment and start formulating revenge. The door was marked Function Prep. She switched on the light and saw how vengeance might take its shape. A gas cylinder. But would it work for her? She took the limp yellow balloon from its nest among the unemployed strings of her dress front and held it up. Was it the balloon that was magic, or Heather? She drew it to her lips and gave it a little puff. To her immense relief she felt something in her chest. A hand shot into position to confirm her hope. It worked. She gave the balloon another breath. Her chest was rising like a soft, fleshy phoenix. The hand made a quick check that things were progressing evenly on both sides and her eyes caught the tank of gas once more. That could be interesting, she thought.

Trying to slip the balloon’s mouth over the inflation nozzle without losing any air proved beyond Mandy, and she was close to overwhelmed again as she felt the breasts she’d barely dared hope for disappear again. But now she had the power to give herself the biggest boobs in the town. Probably the biggest in the country, and without the slightest hint of sag.

“Let’s see who Geoff chooses when faced with the ultimate balloon boobs,” she crooned to herself as she opened the valve and depressed the nozzle. The hissing of the gas was overwhelmed by her hooting as she saw her wrath expressed in breast form. Her boobs sprang from nothing, quickly covering the ground they’d lost most recently to fill her cupped free hand, then overfilled, then approached their former glory. The shiny material kept pace with its charges, unrucking and relaxing back into its familiar shape as the yellow balloon regained it transparent lustre. Then, feeling her earlier comments about saving herself another trip to the surgeons still rang true, Mandy allowed the balloon to swell further. Her breasts, pressing ever more firmly into the material surrounding them, began to leak out through the available gaps. Her cleavage became a tight, dark line behind the taut strings. A nipple sought space by squeezing through a diamond shaped gap. The balloon was nearly double its original size and her breasts were trying to keep pace. The dress, its material designed to cling without stretching, was struggling to do likewise. Mandy could feel it strain. It dug into her back as the front was pulled forward and out to each side. She gazed down, rapt with the view of cleavage and breast flesh that hid her feet.

The balloon had reached its maximum size. Its spherical skin no longer swelled. She kept the gas going, hoping to gain every cubic centimetre she could while the strings holding her outfit together began to sing with tension. She gazed adoringly at her breasts once more and noticed that they too had ceased to grow. She looked up at the balloon and saw its neck distending, then felt the rest of her body taking on the same inflation. Her butt pressed against its confinement. Her thighs rubbed deliciously together as their surface area increased. Every inch of her was on the increase and soon she would have more of herself than any man could handle and any woman could compete against. With that thought she nearly lost all her gains and only managed to hold the balloon to the nozzle by the merest friction, for she lost her footing unexpectedly. But she didn’t fall to the floor in a heap. She fell upward. Her feet had slipped because she’d achieved liftoff and she bobbed there above the gas cylider, holding the balloon with its still expanding neck, feeling her curves grow bigger still for sevearl seconds before she realised she couldn’t get down, particularly when every second she inflated the balloon she was adding to her own lift.

Struggling with unfamiliarly distended fingers, she tugged the balloon’s neck free of the nozzle, managing to clamp it shut to keep her gorgeously distended breasts from shrinking. She floated upward, drifting backward through the air until her plushly ballooned butt and shoulders made contact with the ceiling. She was trying to force her fingers to make a knot in the balloon’s overfilled neck, and failing, when she realised keeping her breasts in their current state wouldn’t be worth much if she was stuck way up with the light fittings. She had to let some gas out of the balloon. She opened her fingers slowly, terrified that she might let go altogether and lose her breasts again as well as suffer a nasty fall to the floor. A tiny hissing greeted her and she could feel the internal pressure easing off a little.

“Just the neck, not the boobs,” she called to the yellow balloon she clutched. True to her wishes, the balloon’s neck was the first to show obvious signs of loss and Mandy noticed it becoming easier to use her fingers and move her thighs.

She began to drift down again and let out just one last puff for good measure before tying the yellow balloon’s neck off. She reached the floor and let go the balloon, which shot back to the ceiling. She ran a hand over her beach ball breasts in their red tents and was rewarded with a rubbery squeal.

“Geoff likes balloons. I’ll show him some balloons.”

She strode to the door, swaying more than ever before as bulging thighs fought for space. Each step caused a great deal of bobbling, squeaking and strained twanging up top.

Heather and Geoff had just finished their celebratory drinks and a quiet, satisfying game in the dark corner booth. Many toasts had been drunk to Heather’s new skills and they were heading home to explore the possibilities together. Geoff was finally able to walk upright once more, though some of Heather’s teasing remarks about what might happen later were threatening to cause him further discomfort. Heather carried the strings to the clutch of balloons, tied in a common slip knot and looped around her wrist. As the crossed the car park they gently ribbed each other about things that inflate when they heard the bar door slam open and turned to see the Michelin man in drag bouncing down the steps toward them.

“Check these balloons out Geoff. Bet your little whippet can’t get this big. You like balloons, well I’m…Hey! Get away. What’re you up to you crazy bitch?”

Heather calmly walked back to Geoff’s side with her single, oversized silver balloon in hand. Together they watched Mandy, with the clutch of balloons snagged to her ankle, drift up and away. There was much squeaking and rustling as she attempted to undo her undoing, but it’s hard to untie a knot you can’t see and she was soon too high for them to make out her alternating threats and pleading.