Musings 3: First-Timers

The story of how I got here is kind of a crazy one, but I've talked about it before. Those of you who are curious about my backstory can find it easily enough, I'm sure. Without having to slow down to go into too much detail, I'll just say that I've ended up as a sort-of hire-on for a metaphysical idea agency, helping potential artists come to those first thoughts that spark creativity for future works.

Okay, that's a little too broad. Suffice to say, the old Muses, that is, the spirits of inspiration so sought after by the ancient Greeks and Romans, are still around and doing their jobs. While they mostly take the forms of dreams or "random" thoughts or fortune cookie papers, sometimes they want to get a little more hands-on in their approach, and they appear directly before the creators they are meant to inspire. That's where I come in.

You see, the Muses are by and large female (sometimes both bi and large, as well), and once in a while it comes to pass that a certain mind is deemed to be better influenced by a male apparition instead of a female one. In those cases, I'm told that men get subcontracted in to appear in spirit to these creators. I haven't met any others, but apparently it's not all that uncommon, and tradition is really the only thing that keeps the Muses from branching out into a fully co-ed service. Not that I'm complaining!

Of course, part of what got me pressed into service is the particularly small niche that my creativity seemed to blossom in: inflation fantasy. I know, it's weird and downright perverse to a lot of people, but as long as it's imaginary and nobody gets hurt... The thought of being able to help budding authors come to grips with the idea of blowing up filled me with an erotic thrill, and I couldn't refuse the offer when it had come to me. Until just now, I'd never actually been called upon in any capacity. I have to say, I'd expected better preparation.

I had been settling down for a longish night of gaming in front of my computer screen when I heard a peculiar, faint noise coming from behind me. The singular harmonics of this sound, a low hiss of gas escaping from a hose, reached deep down inside me and triggered memories that I had thought had only appeared in my imagination. It all came flooding back to me: Auria, the elastic-bodied Muse who had appeared to me and unlimbered my mind as well as my libido.

Given the events of the previous times I had seen her, I had to take a deep breath before swivelling my chair around. She was as I'd seen her before, clad in a voluminous white toga, her dark hair held back by a sort of wreath or tiara of greenery. She was sitting on my bed with her legs crossed, with a gas canister standing on the floor beside her.

"Good to see I've got your attention," she smiled.

I tried to play it a little more coolly than before, but the sudden appearance of one's sexual fantasy in one's bedroom has a bad effect on attempts to be suave. "I didn't think I merited another visit from you. Not after last time."

She shrugged, one dusky shoulder popping from the folds of her robe briefly. "Don't you worry about last time. In fact, that's why I'm here." That was a little worrisome. The previous time we'd met, Auria had used me to try to get another Muse into her line of work, but the new girl had had a chip on her shoulder even larger than the belly she had ended up sporting. I hadn't seen either of them since... except in my deepest fantasies, where Auria's globular body pressed down on me harder and harder as she filled with an obscene amount of mystical gas. But, despite the mindblowing sex, the danger of the situation was something of a turnoff to me, and I had counted my blessings in not having to repeat the experience. Still, there had been something more to her visit than just getting me to write. "Do you remember that little job offer I gave you?"

"To do your job for you and help other writers think up balloon sex? Doesn't ring any bells."

She laughed. "Yes, that's the one. Let's just say your time has come."

"What, right now?"

Auria smiled again and tossed me something bulky and white. "Sure. Here, put this on."

I clumsily unfolded the object, which eventually turned out to be a set of togs similar to hers, a toga complete with a little golden leaf-pattern circlet and a pair of leather sandals. "Seriously? Just like that? What if I have things to do tonight?"

She responded with a mocking smile "Okay, there are a few things wrong with that. First, I know you're not doing anything. XCom is just going to have to save the world without you. Second, you'll be gone for no time at all. This is more of a spiritual journey."

I frowned. "Wait, so I'm not actually going anywhere?"

"Right. We'll just borrow your intelligence and have an astral projection to where you need to be. It'll feel real, but you'll be right here the entire time, and when you're done you'll come back to this place."

"So why make me wear this stuff? Can't you just, I don't know, spirit these clothes onto me if I'm not really going to be there?"

"It's easier for you to believe you're wearing something if you're actually wearing it. Stop making this so hard!"

I sat down on the bed beside her and began undoing my pants. "I could say the same to you--" I began in my smoothest voice (which, admittedly, isn't all that smooth), but she laughed and slapped my shoulder.

"Save it for the client, Casanova. Maybe if you're still up for it later there will be time for fun, but there's a task at hand."

"Yeah, okay, about that. I don't know the first thing about actually doing what it is you expect me to do."

Auria gave me an appraising look. "Good, you're asking questions. Don't worry, you're not going to go in completely without answers. Let's get you suited up first."

After some confusing moments with the toga, I was dressed as well as could be expected for a 21st-century guy in a zeroth-century outfit. "All right, now what?"

She tugged at my toga to straighten an errant fold, then smiled. "Now, I teach you." The walls faded to insubstantial shadows--or maybe we did while the walls stayed the same--and things changed.

After what felt like several hours, I appeared in the bedroom of a woman that would be my first human demonstration of power. She had an empty text document open before her while she toyed with a lock of her brown hair. From the way she kept opening her email, checking Facebook, and all the other little time-passing tricks, I guessed that she'd been in this posture for a while. I'd been there myself, telling myself that I was going to write and frittering the time away with meaningless checkups, until ultimately having to resign that night's effort was for nothing. Well, hopefully this night would be something different.

I cleared my throat softly from across the room while allowing myself to fade slightly into visibility. I'd been given a small suite of mythic powers for my deputy-Muse duties, including teleportation, invisibility, and elasticity, as well as the ability to pass these powers on as need be. When the woman didn't react, I said “Ahem” slightly louder. I didn't want to completely freak her out right off that bat, but can you really expect to know how people will react when being granted a divine visitation?

She reacted far more quickly than I would have thought. Her head snapped around, and within an instant an empty tea bottle that had been on her desk whirred through my head and smashed into the wall behind me. Good thing I'd remained incorporeal at the time, or else that surely would have done some damage... and being knocked out within the first minute of my first Musing mission would have gone very poorly for me.

That didn't stop me from flinching and flailing stupidly for a moment before recovering my senses. Already the woman already had a second bottle in her hand, waiting to strike, but my ghostlike shimmer was causing some confusion. "What... What are you?" she asked, eyes narrowed.

"I'm glad you asked," I said. I'd had something rehearsed for this situation, but at the necessary moment, the words escaped and I just went with my gut. I hefted my standard-issue air canister in one hand and pointed towards her computer screen with the other. "In a nutshell, I'm here to help you get into the mindset you need to create what you want to create."

She sat bolt upright and flushed. "I-I don't know what you're talking about!" she stammered. In response, I approached her slowly and took a seat on her bed near her--comfortably out of reach, but close enough for a companionable chat.

"Do I need to type in some web addresses? See if you have accounts on a site or two? Maybe browse your favorites list on that secondary DeviantArt account you keep, just to yourself?" I was only guessing here, but some of that struck a chord with the woman, and she ran a hand through her hair and gulped nervously.

"Do you mean... You're here to...?"

"I'm here because you want to write about what it's like to be big. Very big. And I'm here to let you feel what it is you'll be writing."

She cleared her throat once, twice, before casting a longing glance at the canister I held. "You're here for me? Why?"

I smiled and leaned back. I knew she would be willing; she just had to know that it was fantasy. "Because some ideas need a kick to get going. Think of me as your Muse."

She kept looking from me to the canister as I explained the basic function of the Muse. At least, as well as I understood it, both from what I already knew and from the brief introductory course I had undergone in Auria's realm. Was what we did really real? It certainly felt real, which could be all the argument one needed from a subjective sort of view. Being a semi-mythological being tended to give one a very pointed opinion on the Plato's Cave metaphor, I'd noticed. Suffice it to say, I left out the part about me not actually being a real Muse, but I did tell her that this would be a first time for both of us.

Once the shock of the situation wore off, the woman seemed almost eager to try it, but held back. "You can blow me up. You can put me back, right? I'm not going to pop or be stuck like that, or anything?"

"Not at all. This is going to be for you. You guide the experience. I'm just here to make it... a little less of a mental exercise."

Almost hesitantly, she reached out to touch the canister, then me. "You're really here, and you can really do this, and you know that I want it." She took a deep breath, and her voice steadied. "Let's do it."

"Perhaps you would like to change into something a little more comfortable before we get started?" I asked. She was wearing a pair of flannel pajama pants and a baggy T-shirt; suitable clothing for writing, I knew, but even with the slight elastic magic I could impart, they wouldn't hold up well. After a few minutes of indecision in the closet, she eventually emerged in a pair of slightly loose tan yoga pants and a men's white button-up shirt. "No underwear," she said, sitting on her bed, "but that's not going to be a problem, is it?"

"Not for long," I agreed. "First, this might be personal, but how would you like to take your gas?"

"Huh?"

"I mean, where do you want it to go in? The body has a number of different entry points: mouth, belly button, er... lower..." I guestured.

"Belly button," she answered hastily. "If you can use that, I'd like it."

"All right," I said. "With the belly, the gas is going to naturally concentrate in your midsection. You'll be able to spread it about as you grow, of course, but if you don't keep an eye on it, you'll get pudgy pretty fast."

"Are there differences between the different places?" she asked.

Again, my Musing crash-course came to the rescue. "It turns out, yes. At least, in the mind of the inflatee--that's you--the body tends to expand more in a localized area about the gas's entry point. In the case of the mouth, it goes to the chest, the belly button, into the midsection..."

"And if I wanted it up my ass, it would go straight there." She seemed a little amused by this logic.

"Got it." However, instead of connecting the canister I had to her, I reached into the hammerspace (personal dimensional cache, for the uninitiated) I'd created under her bed and pulled out an old-timey bicycle pump. The hose was metallic and strong, though, and I reached under her shirt to plug the end into her belly button. I noticed that she was already quivering at my touch, and when the hose made its connection, she drew a sharp breath and gripped her bed tightly.

"What's with the pump?" she asked. "Aren't you going to turn on the canister and let me blow up?"

"There are two reasons why we're going to go with the bike pump," I explained. "First, we're going to take this very slowly, so you can get a clear mental image of what's happening at every step. This is so you can remember it for the future, right?"

"Okay," she nodded. "And the other reason?"

"Because you're not mystical, we've got to slowly pump you so that your body acclimates to having pressure inside of it." I was glad Auria had taught me a suitable metaphor for this, for I'd never had to see her do it. "The first time you inflate, your body doesn't know what to do. It's like you're a rubber balloon being blown up for the first time. The very first time you try to blow it up, there's a point where the rubber resists before it begins to stretch. Your body is going to do that, so by using the pump we avoid going too fast."

"You said 'the first time'?" she asked. "Will this happen again?"

"Nope. If you ever end up inflating magically again, your metaphysical 'skin' will already know that it should stretch, and so you only need to go through this once."

"No," she said, "I mean, will you come and blow me up again after this?" There was a touch of breathlessness to her voice.

"I don't know. I guess it depends on how well you take to this first lesson. Are you ready?"

"Wait!" she said, her hands clamping down on her belly. At first I thought she was trying to pull the hose out of herself, but then I realized that she was unbuttoning her shirt and then rebuttoning it around the hose, so that it would stick out between a gap in the buttons instead of snaking underneath.

"Oh, there's one more question before we start." I flicked a small switch on the pump a couple of times for emphasis. "Do you want to float, or not?"

She paused. "You can make me float?"

"Yup. Your choice, but you should decide before I start pumping anything into you. Do you want to be heavier than air or floaty?"

Her eyes glazed over slightly, and she swallowed before answering. "I want to be a real balloon. Make me lighter." She lay back on the bed and arched her back, waiting.

I nodded, set the pump accordingly, and pumped the first small burst of gas into her.

"I feel it!" she gasped, holding her hands over her belly, where the hose trailed between her shirt and into her body.

"What's it like? Is it too hot? Too cold?"

"N-No... It's good. I just... keep going!"

"I'm asking because you need to know how to convey what you're feeling now. Give me a stream-of-thought while I'm pumping you up." I drew up on the handle and sent another slow wave of gas into her.

"I feel my belly... it's tighter, kind of. The air's in me." She poked at her midsection, and ran her hands up and down her body. "I can feel the air under my hands. I can move it around a little..."

Another pump, and she pushed a bubble up and down her side with her hand.

"Guide that air into your body. Let it fill you up. You can send it into the other parts of your body if you want."

With the next pump, she gently nudged a bubble up herself until it reached her breasts. "Oh! Now my breast is tighter, too, a little. The air's in there."

I continued to pump her slowly, letting her push the bubbles to and fro across her midsection to end up in her breasts, her thighs, her buttocks. "Now, for the next few pumps, don't use your hands. Tell your body where it's going to get bigger, even as the gas is coming into it. All the while, keep telling me what you're feeling."

"I can feel the gas in me... I don't feel bad. The air is under my skin, getting puffier. I feel tension, but my body isn't tense. I'm sending it into my breasts... They're larger now. I can feel them tugging on the shirt a little, when they weren't before. My pants are tighter. I know my ass is bigger, and I think my legs are thicker now?"

"They are," I confirmed. "The gas is going to fill your available space before you start to stretch."

She nodded and ran one hand under the waistband of her yoga pants feeling the resistance of the elastic before letting it snap down with a hollow donk. "That's new," she said. "It must be because I'm... emptier now. I have more room in me."

I continued to pump, urging her to continue to describe the feelings she was having. When she did, her voice was huskier, breathier, as if the very act of describing what was happening was stirring her as much as the feelings of pressure within her.

"The air's getting harder to move around without my hands," she reported. "It's going into my middle. I feel it getting tighter against my shirt, and my breasts aren't lying flat anymore." Sure enough, her shirt was beginning to put up some resistance against her swelling midsection, and now I could clearly see the hose where it entered her as her body tried to pull the shirt open. It was nowhere near straining yet, but she was noticeably bigger than before, in every way.Her pants clung to her swollen hips and thighs, the stretchy fabric easily taking in her growing lower body. Seeing the waistband slowly creeping down her rounding belly reminded me of watching Auria's body as she had swelled, but I knew this was different. For one thing, despite my own growing excitement, this inflation was far, far, slower, and it wasn't for my benefit.

"Okay, now stop directing the gas. Let it go where it wants, but keep in mind what's happening to you." I slowed down the pumps, but tried to retain a smooth rhythm.

"I... The air is bunching up in my midsection." She ran her hands over her newly-rounded body as she described each area. "It's not just my belly, but out to the sides, too. My waistband feels much tighter. My back... I can't feel the small of my back going in anymore. There's just my ass, oh god it's round and full, and then my skin curves out. My breasts are almost totally round now, and I'm starting to feel tight all over.

"The air's in my belly, and I'm getting bigger, pushing against my clothes... No, that's not my clothes. My skin isn't pushing out any further, and I feel... just tighter. There isn't any more room for this air." She finally started to sound concerned, as she realized that I was showing no sign of relenting my slow pumping. "I'm filling up! No, I'm full! I'm full, you can stop!" She was hardly full. She was puffy, but she hadn't truly begun to stretch. But there was no way for her to know this; after all, she'd only ever imagined this could happen.

I did stop pumping, though, and ran my hand over her inflated body. She moaned slightly at my touch, then grabbed my hand. "Thank you for showing me this. I feel so much bigger." Her belly pushed against her shirt, and now a band of her skin was visible between the bottom of her shirt and the waistband of her pants as the it rode up her body.

I pressed down on her belly, causing her to squeal while the gas within her was pushed to her extremities. "You remember what I said about the balloon, right? You aren't inflating yet. Your body's still pushing back before you can expand." I pulled my hand free of hers and disconnected the hose from the bicycle pump, then connected the same hose, still planted in her belly, to the the gas canister.

"No," she whispered. "You promised I wouldn't pop. You--"

I turned the wheel on the canister, letting a slow but steady flow of bouyant gas into her. Without having to manually pump her up, I could help her more directly, and I took her hands again, holding them against her belly.

"You're not going to pop. You're going to get bigger. Repeat that with me."

"I'm not going to p-p-pop... I'm g-going to get b-b-bigger..." she stumbled, as the gas continued to well up within her body.

"You aren't even floating yet. You're nowhere near big enough to pop."

"I still n-need to float... Not gonna pop..." She closed her eyes and shivered as the pressure continued to mount. Her belly groaned, and her breasts quivered, but her skin remained smooth and unblemished.

After just a few more seconds of this buildup (which must have felt like an eternity to her), her body began to swell again, her belly forcing its way to stretch her shirt as far as it could even as her butt and legs grew even larger. A familiar low-pitched whooshing noise filled the room: the sound of a helium balloon beginning to inflate, but magnified and much, much deeper.

Her eyes snapped open, and she cried out once. "I'm growing again! My body..."

I ran her hands over her belly and hips, caressing them with my own hands. "Now you're starting to swell up. Your body's reached that point where it stops resisting, and now you're expanding for real."

"Oh... It was so powerful," she groaned. "And you say I never have to go through that again?"

"Well, not from Muses," I admitted.

"That might be a shame," she said. "I think... I came a little, right at the end there."

"I wouldn't be surprised," I said, "but there's still time."

Still, that frank admission of release was new to me. I did let my hands wander over her lower body for a few seconds as the gas continue to work its way inside her. Her newly-rounded hips and thighs were still soft and smooth, and the yoga pants cling gamely to her new curves along her rear and across her groin, which was beginning to push outwards as her lower torso met her belly.

"Help me up," she said. "I want to see myself." I pulled her upright and helped her stand, where she took a pose in front of the full-length mirror in her room. Her breasts bobbled up beneath her shirt, and she grinned. "See? Parts of me are lighter already." She hopped up and down slightly, watching her breasts bounce while her midsection shimmied slightly. Her shirt was stretched tight across her body now, both as her breasts and her belly continued to grow within it. The lower part of her shirt in particular was strained across her midsection as she swelled out to the sides and back, but the buttons were hanging in there, keeping the garment closed.

"Tell me what you're feeling." I said, getting her back on track.

She stared at herself in the mirror for a moment longer, then wrapped her arms about herself. "That tightness from before is gone, but I feel pressure on my waist, and around my chest. My skin feels more sensitive, I think because I'm actually stretching now. I feel... bigger, but not clumsier or slower."

"That pressure's probably just your clothing," I said, trailing a finger around the waistline of her amazingly stretchy pants and then tapping her shirt. "You're still getting going to bigger, if you want to."

"Of course I want to!" she sighed. "You couldn't stop me now, could you? Not after what happened on the bed? And, besides, you said I could fly!"

"I said you could float. If you think you're getting out of this room, you're crazy."

"Crazy enough to find this incredibly stirring. But, you knew that, right? You wouldn't even have come to do to this to me if I didn't."

"Uh... Let's get back to focusing on your impressions. Remember how this all feels, as your body fills."

She sighed and closed her eyes, crossing her arms under her breasts and letting them rest on the new pillow of her belly. "Right now... I feel like things are slowing down. I know I'm still getting bigger, but the pressure and the tension are subsiding. I still feel a fullness, but my skin feels softer, not as severe as before."

"Okay, you're entering a safe stretch," I said, drawing on the specialized vocabulary Auria had drilled into me.

"Pun intended?" She cocked her head, brown hair spilling onto her shoulder.

"Very much so, more's the pity. But what I mean is now that your body's begun to expand, you've passed a safe milestone and you can relax for a bit."

"I don't want to relax! I want to feel a thrill! I want to float!" She bobbed on her toes again, and her breasts almost broke free from the shirt now. "Don't tell me that this gets actually dull once I start getting big!"

"Hardly!" I said, with all the experience of having watched this being done a mere two times. "We're taking it slow because this is your first time, remember? At this point in most fantasies, the inflation actually increases until something happens."

"That's the problem," she said. "My fantasy involves getting bigger, faster. I want to feel that pressure again. I want dramatic change!"

"Careful," I said. "Don't get all adrenaline junkie on me now. Besides, from the looks of things you're about to cross another line fairly soon."

"Is it taking these constrictive clothes off?" She leaned forward and squeezed her breasts between her arms, causing them to strain at the already-stricken shirt enough that a button popped loose.

"Oh!" she gasped, "That felt... liberating. Being able to break free, that sudden release... It's kind of like that first stretch again."

"At least, in the stories, that's how it goes, right?" I nodded. "The clothing has to come off sometime. If you want, I can take it off for you, or..."

"No! I want to bust out of them." She sat back on the bed. "How long is it going to take?"

"Well, you're already pretty big. But usually the growth is faster at this point. I could turn up the pressure..."

"Yes!" she exclaimed, almost hungrily.

"In return, though, you need to get back into the zone. Remember what's happening. Relax, and feel your body swelling."

She lay back down on the bed, the new curves of her body resting comfortably. The waistband of her yoga pants, still being driven downwards as her belly and sides grew, gave her the impression of a comparative waist, and her hips, ass, and thighs flared out cartoonishly below it. Above, the shirt was taut against her belly and sides, and an escaping glimpse of breast peeked from the broken button near the top. "I feel... tight, but not dangerously so. I'm constrained, and I can get bigger if I can get free."

"How's your skin?" I asked, tapping the rising crown of her belly with a finger. Even lying down, her body was a good yard high.

"Still... Mmm... Soft and sensitive. Do that again." I obliged, and she laughed at the dull bwom sound that resonated through her.

"All right. I'm going to turn it up. Get ready." She bit her lip and nodded. I opened the valve on the canister a bit more, increasing the gas's flow into her.

She sighed contentedly and rubbed at her belly. Soon she began to rub herself faster and faster. "The pressure's building again..." she said. "I can still be bigger, but first... I've got to get out of this!" Her breasts burst forth, popping two buttons at once with a staccato ripping sound. She gasped with pleasure as her flesh heaved to, straining against her shirt. The rising swell of her was getting visibly larger, pushing at the final few threads keeping her from being free.

"It's tight... but I can be bigger." she whispered. Sure enough, the shirt finally gave in, the buttons tearing off one after another as she lay, a triumphant mound of woman in her tan stretch pants and the remains of a white shirt.

"What about the pants?" I asked.

"Can I get them off?" she panted. "I can't see." The curve of her oversized belly was preventing her from seeing below her waist, where the spandex seemed laminated to every curve of her lower half.

"I don't know," I said. "Whichever brand you bought, you really picked a winner."

"Just get them off of me," she said. "I want to be free to grow, and they're so tight..."

Even as her body continued to blow up with the increased gas flow, I knew that ripping these pants might be more trouble than it was worth, so I climbed on top of her bed and straddled her legs. I found a handhold on either side of her massively flaring hips and tugged downwards, but the swell of her immense rear kept me from pulling them off.

"I need to flip you over to do this," I said, and slowly rolled her onto her side and then onto her front. She bit her lip and grunted as she took her weight on the gas-filled pillow of her belly, and the globes of her now-immense rear rose up before me. I hooked my thumbs into her waistband on either side, then hauled her towards me, shoving against her to pull her pants down. Every inch of the clothing's movement was accompanied by her swelling ass pressing closer and closer to me, as her own body pressure worked to help me peel the pants away from what was becoming a smooth expanse of cheek and thigh. At one spot, the flare of her hips was even wider than her waist had been, and I struggled with the stubborn clothing. How had this thing stayed intact?

My tugging had had a second effect on her, however. As I pulled, she rocked back and forth on her stomach, and when I began to work her faster, she gasped and tried to slip a hand down below her belly, but was unable to reach. She contented herself with playing with her sides, running her fingers along her hips and across as much of her rear as she could manage.

"This feels so good," she moaned. "The pressure is sliding down my legs, and I can feel my ass growing again, now that it's out of there." Her cheeks were expanding more rapidly, taking on gas and forcing her thighs to press against each other tightly as the pants held her legs together around her knees. I was going to make another go at pulling, but she waived a hand for me to stop. "Leave it there. I like the way my thighs are mashing together, against each other and into my crotch. It just feels so... electric."

I rolled her over again and pulled her into a sitting position, her hugely inflated belly riding against her swollen thighs, her bottom another pair of exaggetated curves below that. Her back was bulging out behind her head, rounding out her entire upper body. Obviously her front was stretched out much more than her back, but she was thicker all around, and her waist was rapidly becoming more of an equator to envelop her hips.

"Keep thinking about how it feels." I said. "Is there anything else I can do?" Instead of responding directly, she closed her eyes and nodded, driving her chin between her massive breasts and setting them to bouncing. Her hands remained busily stroking at the sides of her immense body, and she seemed to be shaking with excitement.

After a few moments of this, her body still slowly inflating, she looked over to me and smiled. "I feel lighter. The sense of pressure on my ass is getting less, even though I know it's still getting bigger, and I know why. It's because I don't weigh as much!"

I nodded. "You're starting to float."

"I'm starting to float." She sighed and leaned forward as much as she could, pressing against her belly and holding herself tightly. "Hurry. Speed it up. I want this so bad right now."

I gave the canister another twist, and the rate of flow into her increased once more.

"Yessss..." she hissed, and she began to slowly rock against herself. Each time she pulled back, her belly was slightly larger, further restricting her movements.

"I can feel it," she whispered. "There's so little weight to me. It's just this incredible feeling of fullness and my skin is so sensitive." I placed my hand on her belly, near the hose, and she shuddered with pleasure.

Her voice was low and fast, almost like a mantra or a woman in a dream. "I'm going to float. It's coming. I feel it in the pit of my stomach, like when you're going up a roller coaster and about to drop. It's building up so much inside me and I just can't stand it and--"

Her belly began to waver, and she slowly rose up off the bed. She gasped and lay backwards, twisting her hips as her rear lost contact with the sheets. Her calves and knees were still effectively held fast by her pants, and her hugely bulging thighs ground together, the globes of her ass working against each other. Her feet trailed against the bed for a moment, for she was obviously being lifted by her belly and her legs were still the heaviest part of her, but in a moment even they had risen up off the bed and she was rising up into the air.

I caught her by the ankles and towed her more towards the center of the room, then tugged her downwards and took a hold of the hose. She rolled in the air to face downwards, tethered by the hose to the canister, her almost spherical belly and torso meeting with her hips and ass in a series of smooth, flawless orbs.

"I'm floating... I'm floating..." she moaned, her head back and her face flushed. She seemed lost in the throes of passion, and from the way she had been waiting for this very moment, I wasn't surprised. I teased my other hand along the curve of her belly, out of her reach, starting between her breasts and tracing down to the hose, then further along to where her thighs pressed in a firm grip of inflated flesh. Somewhere between them, her body must have been swollen mightily as well, but with her pants forcing her legs tightly together by her knees, there must have been an incredible amount of pressure there between the inflation of her thighs, her belly, and her groin. For a moment I considered thrusting my hand up and finding the spot that was giving her so much pleasure as her body pressed itself into her more delicate areas.

But, no. Unless she asked, I wouldn't take liberty with her like that. After all, this was to be her fantasy, and she could stimulate herself all she liked. With her mind, at least, since she obviously couldn't reach there with arms.

Eventually, even the thrill of floating must have worn down slightly, and she tapped against her belly with one hand to create a series of kettle-drum booms. "Stop," she commanded. "Turn it off. I... I'm big enough now."

"Are you sure?" I asked, squeezing a breast slightly. "There's still some give in your body. You could be bigger." Still, I stopped fondling her long enough to turn off the flow of gas, but kept holding on to the hose.

"Yeah," she replied. "It felt... feels so amazing, but I don't want to strain myself. Being big and soft is better than drum-tight, I think." She sighed, laying her head down on the curve of her body, and let her arms dangle. "I'm finally a balloon, and it's so good. I can't get lost in it." Funnily enough, I hadn't had that degree of self-control in my first inflation session with the Muses, and I hadn't even been the one blowing up. I was impressed by her

"What are you thinking of?" I asked, tugging on the hose to let her bob in the air. She giggled slightly.

"I have to put this into words. I know that I was probably repeating myself a lot while it was happening, and I need to do better than that to make it worth reading."

"You'd be surprised," I said. "An honest, natural-sounding voice is much more immersive than a thesaurus for 'big.' Just stay away from fruit and sporting goods and I think you'll do okay."

"I'm still not quite over it. It really happened. I'm so huge, and round, and it all really happened."

"Try to remember that." I reassured her. "It's going to feel like a dream later. A fantastic dream, and you'll tell yourself that it was impossible. But, hold on to how you feel, dream or not, and keep it in your mind."

I set the gas canister to its last setting--a harmless anesthetic-- and let it slowly feed into her, so slowly that its passage was silent. Within a few short moments, she fell asleep even as she grew a tiny bit bigger, lolling in the air as contentedly as a cloud given feminine form.

It was a fairly quick task to guide her over to the bed and gently deflate her, using the hose's valve to magically suck every trace of the gases from her body. I repaired her shirt with a touch and tossed it into the closet, but left her pants around her knees and covered her with her blanket. Even though she had changed her clothes, the restored shirt would contradict her memory of the event, giving the whole experience an even more dreamlike feel when she woke up.

I gave the room one more look and set everything back to the way I remembered it being when I first arrived, then said the spell to take me back to the etherial plane where the Muses made their home.

"A good first run," Auria said when I returned to the cloud-enveiled room that she had made her office. "Very polite, very professional."

"It helped that she didn't want me to be really dominating during the whole thing," I said. "I'm not sure I could have gotten into that."

"The point isn't for you to get into it," she replied harshly. "It's for her, and you'll do as she likes. That's the point. Still, though, it's nice that you enjoyed it."

"I did," I agreed, "though I'm not sure I have it in me to do it very often."

"Maybe you won't need to," Auria said. "We'll watch how this takes hold in her creative centers and keep an eye on her output. You may have just done something very special for one person, or maybe it'll spark something that gives pleasure to a lot more than just her. That's the thrill of this job, the potential of making your simple actions for one mind ripple outwards to reach many more. Now change back into your own clothing and I'll send you home."

I smiled and did so. When I was done, Auria made a note in the file she was reading and shut the folder, which then flew into an open file cabinet and neatly alphabetized itself under "I" (it was a fairly large section, I noticed). "There is one more thing I should mention," she said. "This isn't the sort of thing we Muses had to deal with when we first started out, so I can see why it's a rookie mistake."

"What's that?" I asked. "I thought everything went fairly well."

"Oh, it did," she said with a smile, waving her hands to cause a cloud to form around me to take me back. "But, in the future, make sure anyone you visit has her webcam off before you appear to her." She winked and snapped her fingers, and everything went black.

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