If a Bully Should Burst Me

(Or, "The Red Beam of Inflation")

Brody liked to show up at school early, so he could quickly put his books away in his locker and get to homeroom before anyone noticed him. He didn’t like to be noticed, because that meant being noticed by girls, who laughed at him, and by boys, who would pick on him. Even if it meant getting up ridiculously early and sneaking in the side door to the high school, Brody knew it was essential for self-preservation.

That’s why he couldn’t believe his misfortune when he stepped around the side of the building and saw Colin standing outside the side entrance having a smoke.

What are the freakin’ ODDS? Brody thought.

He didn’t really know Colin--all he knew is what he saw: The youth in the trench coat was muscular but quiet. He could quite easily have become a sports jock from his tall frame and chiseled physique, but apparently he didn’t think much of sports. He didn’t have any friends that Brody could picture. He didn’t hang out with the jocks, or the druggies, the deadbeats, the goths, and certainly not with the nerds, who were Brody’s crowd. Colin was, to Brody, a complete enigma.

That’s probably why he didn’t immediately turn and run. For all he knew, Colin may be the one boy in school who wouldn’t beat the crap out of him. And besides, running away would be a sign of weakness--blood in the water, as it were. So Brody, trying to walk casually but trembling inside, headed for the door, avoiding eye contact and hoping Colin wouldn’t pay any attention to him.

He got within a few feet of the door when Colin said, “Hey, kid.”

Oh, God. Another beating coming. Just remember to curl up into a ball and it will eventually be over.

Colin reached into his trench coat pocket and removed what appeared to be a pen-style flashlight. He pointed it at Brody’s chest, and with a tiny click, a small red dot of light appeared on the front of Brody’s shirt, almost like a sniper rifle’s pinpointer.

Brody was understandably confused, and as usual, he was scared of what it meant. In fact, his stomach felt hollow with fear.

It took a moment to find out it wasn’t fear that was in his stomach. He just felt hollow, period--as if his insides were disappearing and being replaced with air. He looked at the little red light, then at Colin, and then back down to the balloon under his shirt.

Brody’s books fell from his hand and struck the sidewalk. Balloon under his shirt?!

There was no balloon. It was his belly, pumping up under his shirt, lifting his shirt tails from his trousers and exposing his belly button to the elements.

He thought of how he was ready to curl up into a ball--but now it looked like he had swallowed a ball! A good sized inflatable ball, like the kind he gets struck with in gym class all the time during dodgeball games.

But before he could even process his shock, his belly quickly outgrew the dodgeball size, and now looked beachball size.

Brody cast his terrified stare away from his stomach and toward Colin’s “flashlight.” Colin merely grinned as he took another drag on his cig.

“Quit it!” Brody said, more a plea than a command.

“Make me,” Colin said.

Brody’s belly continued to surge, pulling back his shirt even farther. The rest of his body hadn’t yet bloated up, so he just looked comically pregnant, as if he were carrying full-grown adult triplets.

“Just stop!” Brody called, while running a hand over his stomach, as if in the hopes he could push it back under his shirt. He tried, but it continued growing, pushing out from under his hands like rising dough. He tried stepping away from the light, but Colin easily followed him. Finally, Brody threw up his hands, trying to protect his belly from any more exposure to the red beam.

But then his arms plumped up as the light struck his hands.

He moved his arms away, and the light struck him full in the chest. And just like that, his chest bloated out to join his belly.

“Stop it!” Brody pleaded again. “Why are you doing this?”

“It’s fun,” Colin said, as if no explanation were necessary.

Brody looked around for any sign of help. Of course, there was none. He arrived too early for there to be many other students. Faculty? Forget it. They were always there if Brody ran in the hallway, but when some bully was picking on him, they were miles and miles away. Today was no different.

Colin just stood there, holding the red light on Brody, and Brody could do nothing. Nothing but stand there and inflate.

“Ohhhhh, stop!” Brody said, as his body began looking nice and stuffed, from his pudgy neck down to his throbbing legs and bulging ankles.

To his surprise, he stopped. That never happened before, and it was with great trepidation that Brody took his eyes off his bloated frame and looked over at Colin.

Saying nothing, appearing to give Brody no further thought, Colin clicked off the light and replaced it in his pocket. Then he pulled out a small, indeterminate object from his other pocket and reached out toward Brody’s ear.

He stuck it in--it was an earpiece. Brody was too confused to even form a question.

But Colin answered anyway. “That’s so I can keep track of you,” he told his inflatable victim. “For the entire day, you’re going to do exactly what I tell you, no matter what. If I tell you to literally bounce off the walls, you’re going to do it. And if you tell anyone what I’m doing, or if you try to escape, I’ll blow you up so much you’ll... Well. Use your imagination.”

“When will you let me go?” Brody managed the courage to ask.

“Maybe at the end of the day,” said Colin. “Or maybe I won’t. We’ll see. It all depends on how well you amuse me. Or I might just blow you bigger for the hell of it, who knows?”

“I can’t go to school like this!”

Colin calmly withdrew the laser pointer, clicked it on, and directed it at Brody’s belly.

Brody knew what was coming, but was somehow surprised anyway to find his body filling up uncontrollably. “Okay! Okay! Stop! I’ll do it!”

Colin let Brody get just a little bit bigger before finally taking the beam away. “I’ll be watching and listening,” he warned, and before Brody could register it, Colin was inside the doors and gone.

Brody tried to push his bloated body back into shape, to no avail. His attempts to bend over to pick up his books were similarly hopeless. Hoping this would be a nightmare like the times he showed up to school in his underwear, Brody gingerly reached around his massive gut for the door handle, turned sideways to get through the door, and entered the school.

He waddled his way through the nearly empty halls, but his progress was slow, and students were beginning to fill up the building. At first, he got amazed stares, then he heard whispers as he passed various cliques, and finally, the name-calling started.

“Hey, balloon-boy!” shouted Anna, one of several cheerleaders gathered a few feet away from Brody’s locker.

Anna and her friends were all fabulously hot. Brody had always wished they would know he was alive; but at this moment, he wished he could go back to being beneath their notice.

Anna sneered, “Did you just get really fat or did you suddenly get 18 months pregnant?” The other girls squealed with hilarity.

“Someone’s inflating me,” he whispered.

“Someone’s WHAT?” she asked.

“Someone’s--” Brody cut himself off. He looked beyond the gaggle of young beauties to see Colin at the end of the hallway, pointing the pen light at him. The tiny red beam, which was apparently assigned no importance to any observers present, struck Brody in the chest again, and he bloated up even bigger. It was a brief but sudden expansion, as if Colin were just proving a point.

“Oh my GAWD!” said one of Anna’s hot friends. “Did you see that? He’s blowing up like a balloon!”

It was then Brody heard a voice in his ear: “Say, ‘I’m fat AND I’m pregnant!’”

Brody peered back down the hallway. He hadn’t seen Colin use a microphone, but he had recognized the bully’s voice.

“I’m fat AND I’m pregnant!”

The girls looked at each other, each supressing their mocking laughter until it burst out of them.

Colin: “Say, ‘That’s right. And I can make myself even bigger.’”

Brody did NOT want to say that. He hesitated. He saw Colin point the red beam. And then he said, “That’s right! And I can make myself even bigger!”

Colin: “Watch this.”

Brody: “Watch this.”

Colin: “Louder.”

Brody: “Loud--oh, uh...I mean, WATCH THIS!”

Brody closed his eyes and braced for it. Sure enough, he swelled up bigger, his clothes tightening around him as he seemingly fattened up with air. He grew larger, like a frog puffing itself up. Again, it was brief; but Brody was noticeably bigger, rounder, more bloated than ever.

By now, other kids had gathered in the hallway, pointing, laughing, joking amongst themselves.

“Whoa, careful there, balloon-boy!” Anna called out. “Don’t pop yourself!” The other witnesses laughed at the very thought.

Brody looked around at the laughing crowd. Would they laugh that hard if they knew that Colin really MIGHT make him pop?

Probably.

The girls continued laughing amongst themselves, as Brody heard in his ear: “Grab Anna’s boob.”

“What?” Brody asked.

“I didn’t say anything,” Anna said.

Colin: “Grab her boob, or you go boom!”

Brody reached out a bloated arm and grabbed Anna’s breast with his pudgy hand.

“Ewww!” said Anna, slapping his hand away, which made a sound like she was slapping away an inflatable pool toy. “Don’t touch me, freak! If I didn’t want you touching me before, I sure don’t want you touching me now, you big blimp!”

It seemed at first that Brody had no response, and just stood quietly for a moment. But in fact, he was processing Colin’s latest instructions.

“A big blimp?” Brody asked meekly. Pause. Then he said more forcefully: “A BIG BLIMP?! I’LL show you a big blimp!!” And then his body blew out in all directions, inflating like a parade balloon.

“Easy there, balloon-boy!” said one of the other cheerleaders.

“C’mon, let’s get out of her before he blows!” said another.

“He already blows!” said Anna, and they huddled away, occasionally looking over their shoulders at Brody as they headed toward their homerooms.

Brody no longer saw Colin. Was it safe to move? To talk independently? Just to be sure, he made his way very cautiously through the hallway.

After sitting through English class uncomfortably in a desk way too small for him, all the while shaking off the teacher’s suggestion that he see the nurse and denying that he had an eating disorder or a pituitary problem. Biology class would be a little easier, he knew, because they could sit on stools, and he would be unconfined by these tiny desks.

Unfortunately, Miss Miller was substituting.

Miss Miller was the substitute teacher that every boy and several girls had a major crush on. Pushing forty but looking twenty-two, the tall, leggy brunette was so obviously in the wrong profession, she could have had “Playboy model” stamped on her forehead. God, why did SHE have to be here today?!

She entered the classroom, stopped dead in her tracks, and the rest of the class smiled as they waited for her reaction.

“Brody? Are you wearing an inflatable suit?”

“No, ma’am.” PLEASE stop noticing me!

“Do you need to see the nurse?”

“No, ma’am.” PLEASE stop looking at me!

“Okay...” She reluctantly turned her back to the class to write the day’s agenda on the chalkboard.

Her pants weren’t especially tight, but they were clingy enough to fill virtually every student’s mind with the appropriate visual. Why did he have to be humiliated in front of HER?!

Almost as if on cue, Brody inflated bigger.

WTF???!!!

Oh, come on! Colin was standing right outside the classroom window! Didn’t anyone notice him? Of course not, because they were all busy watching their classmate blow up like a balloon. He inflated there on his stool, before his billowing midsection pushed against the lab table, tipping him back on his stool. Brody had time only to wave his bloated arms before he fell backwards, bouncing hard against the floor like a basketball.

The class erupted into peals of laughter. And soon, still lying on his spongy back, Brody was looking up at the tall, leggy, gorgeous Miss Miller. He squirmed on the floor. But he lacked the leverage to stand back up.

“Brody? Do you need to be excused?”

“I--” Colin’s voice in his ear interrupted him. Brody winced, as if the words about to leave his mouth were physically painful. “No, Miss Hot-Ass!”

“I BEG your pardon?!” She glared down at him. He felt as if she were about to raise one of those long legs and plunge her high heels into his increasingly gossamer belly.

But Brody/Colin continued: “I’m a balloon, Miss Hot-Ass! Just a big, fat, happy balloon! I like to go bouncy for you! I’m getting bigger for you, just like I always get bigger in my pants for you!”

“Are you on some kind of medication?” Miss Miller asked. “Should I call someone?”

“What you should do,” said Brody, “is give me a blow job until I burst!”

Brody spent the rest of the day in detention.

He was happy with that: Isolated from all other students, he just bobbed at his desk--actually, on the floor beside his desk, because he was too big to fit behind it. There he sat undisturbed, unnoticed, blissfully alone. But he was also aware that it would end. And he didn’t know what he would face at the day’s end. He had plenty of time to stew about it.

Near the end of the day, Brody was finally excused. But not to go home: He had to attend the school’s pep rally in the gym. “Uh, you’re going to have to help me here,” he told his captor, before resignedly reporting to the gymnasium.

Predictably, the entire school focused their attention on the balloon-boy whose body took up space on the bleachers that would fit at least ten students. He watched the cheerleaders lead the entire school in several victory cheers, listened to the band play (out of tune, natch) several marches. Brody looked for Colin, but couldn’t pick him out in the crowd. Was it over?

And then, near the end of the event, Brody began to inflate again. The other students scooted over on the bleachers to give him room. Some cheered. Others jeered.

“Look! He’s gettin’ bigger again! Someone stop him before he explodes!”

“Knock it off, blimp boy! We’re packed enough as it is!”

By now, Brody was such a large ball he could not see where Colin’s red beam was striking him. Where was he? He couldn’t see Colin anywhere, yet he was somehow still inflating him. And he was inflating him faster than ever: Brody doubled in size in only seconds, becoming more and more ball shaped. His clothes groaned and tore slightly, but managed to stretch even further around him. [Fortunately, Brody bought his clothes at the same store as the Incredible Hulk.]

He didn’t know where Colin was, but Brody’s mission was clear.

Brody shouted over the din of the gymnasium. “Look, everyone! I’m a toy balloon! I’m a giant toy balloon! Pick me up! Bounce me! Play with me!”

A few juvenile students obliged. Several hands grabbed Brody’s inflating body--he was surprisingly light, like a giant beachball--and they tossed him high into the air. He came back down again, and SMACK! Several hands swatted him again…and again…and again! The crowd crowed with amusement as Brody was batted around all over the gym like the toy balloon he was. Brody made no sign for them to stop. In fact, he encouraged it:

“That’s it! Bounce me! Play with me! I’m just a balloon! Bounce me higher! I’m just a helpless balloon-boy! Higher! I’m a toy balloon! I’m a toy BALLOOOOOOONNNNN!!”

The crowd loved the sight of Brody getting smacked around, and all thought it was the greatest pep rally ever. The teachers looked amongst each other and shrugged. There were no rules against inflating oneself, the kids seemed to love it, and Brody didn’t seem to mind. Although, as he bounced from one side of the gym to the other, and back again, Brody did seem to be getting dangerously large…

Brody seemed to awaken as if from a dream. He lay among a sea of balloons from the pep rally, many of them popped, some floating freely, some settling gently on the floor. He felt as if he were lying on a large matt, but he was merely lying there on his gargantuan stomach, now his own personal inflatable mattress. The crowd was gone. The pep rally was over. The school was empty. Empty except the pep rally balloons, and one very big, air-engorged balloon boy.

And then, as he expected, he heard footsteps.

Colin stood in front of him, tossing the red penlight over and over in one hand. “Well, I’ve humilated you in front of the entire school. There’s only one thing left to do now.”

“You’re going to let me go?” asked Brody, knowing the answer.

“Nope. I’m going to blow you up so big you explode.”

“You said you’d let me go!”

“I said maybe. You didn’t really think I wouldn’t pop you, did you?”

Actually, Brody admitted to himself, no. He said nothing.

“Besides,” Colin continued after a pregnant pause, “I AM letting you go. I’m letting you go boom!”

And then he pointed the beam at the center of Brody’s large, spherical body. Brody heard a click. Then he felt himself inflate.

His body grew exponentially larger, swelling like a balloon out of control. “Wait!” he called down to Colin. “Please just tell me: Why?!”

Colin shrugged, still holding down the trigger. He repeated his earlier answer: “It’s fun.”

Brody, as if satisfied with that answer, said no more. He just waited for it to happen. Waited and inflated. He closed his eyes and felt himself grow bigger, his skin grow tighter, the pressure build inside him, until he felt he could take no more, yet he still blew up larger and larger and larger…

Oh God, I’m really going to burst, Brody thought.

I’m actually going to pop like a balloon!

I’m going to EXPLODE!

And…

And…

I think I like it.

BOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMM!! The explosion reverberated throughout the empty gymnasium.

Colin chuckled to himself before replacing the penlight into his pocket. He walked slowly away, chuckling occasionally when he thought of Brody’s screaming during the pep rally.

He hadn’t told Brody to say ANY of those things.

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