Hit and Run

Date Written: 

Hit & Run

Ginger skidded her “cartoon” cart to a halt as she chided herself for not paying attention to where she was going. “Oh! Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” she said, awkwardly stepping around the other girl’s body. The girl was wearing a trendy, purple sweatshirt with black yoga pants. Ginger had squashed the attractive, young girl completely flat with her cart. She looked like a life-sized sticker on the pavement. “Okay, um…um…ooh! I know!” said Ginger, turning the cart around to reveal a helium tank on the side. “Alright. This’ll do it!” she said, uncoiling the plastic hose from the top of the tank. She got on her knees and carefully stuck it into the flattened girl’s mouth. The girl’s lips wrapped up around the hose like clay. Clapping her hands excitedly, Ginger got up on her feet and went to the tank, wrapping her hand around the valve and twisting it open. The tank made a sharp hissing sound and the hose flexed around a little as the flattened girl’s cheeks puffed up, her face and stomach expanding like rising bread dough. Ginger wasn’t paying attention; she was looking squarely at the PSI gauge on the tank. “Now…how much PSI does a person have?” she asked. Her victim’s arms and legs filled out, and her breasts grew triumphantly like a pair of modestly-sized balloons. Back to her normal dimensions again, she jittered, ramrod-stiff, her cheeks puffed outwards, while her trim stomach started to rise up. “Is it…so, like a person-sized balloon? Or does someone hold less than a balloon?” Ginger asked herself.

“Mmmph!” yelled the girl on the ground, “Mmmmmmmmmph!” as her belly rose up and up, the grey undershirt she was wearing under her purple sweatshirt riding up, revealing a crescent of bare skin between her belly button and her yoga pants. Her stomach rose higher, and higher, and higher, like an inflating beach ball, as her undershirt crept past her belly button, the fabric along the hem creaking as she stretched it out. The black fabric of her yoga pants stretched too, her hips widening as her midriff loomed over her like an exercise ball. “Mmmmph! Mmmmmmph!” she screamed behind the hose, reaching out towards Ginger.

“I just need to make sure it doesn’t get in the yellow – is helium dangerous? …No, no, helium’s not dangerous.” She said to herself. As the girl reached out, her limbs were fattening up. The purple sleeves of her sweatshirt expanded outwards and stretched tight over her arms, which ballooned up around her body and tapered down, creaking and straining, to her uncovered, flapping hands. Her breasts swelled up like two overinflated balloons, stretching the front of her sweatshirt tight on either side of the zipper in the front. Slowly, it unzipped, tooth by tooth, as her breasts blew up to the size of volley balls and slowly heaved the front of her sweatshirt open. Her deep cleavage completely filled the increasingly plunging neckline of her v-neck undershirt, which creaked and strained as it stretched out, widening the fleshy view. The elastic waistline of her yoga pants groaned and stretched as her midsection swelled up, and up, and up, and with a deep groan, the knot tied in the draw string popped itself undone, causing her vast, rising tummy to bounce upwards an extra inch or two. Her pants creaked and protested, but held strong as she stretched the waistline out bigger, and bigger, and rounder, and rounder, her legs jutting straight outwards. The straining material on her swelling, fattening legs making them look like big, conical marshmallows, tapering down to the now comically-small Keds she was wearing on her wiggling feet. She had inflated so large and so round that her back and exercise ball-sized butt cheeks were lifting her upwards. She gyrated her limbs uselessly, but it only served to make her jostle up and down.

“Mmmmph! Mmmmmph! Mmmmmph!” she screamed, her voice high-pitched from the helium, as her sweatshirt and the hem of her undershirt rode up and up and the waist of her pants rode down and down and the end of her huge, round belly ballooned upwards, bigger, and bigger, and bigger. The material of her clothes rasped and squealed as her body expanded in an increasingly spherical shape. Her hands flapped and her shoes wiggled as her sweatshirt and yoga pants moaned and squeaked, her arms and legs puffing outwards and getting shorter with her rounder body. Then, she started to float.

“Hmph!? Mmmmmmph! Mmmmmmmmph!” the girl screamed as she slowly and gently floated up. The strip of exposed skin that she was resting on, surrounded by creaking, groaning clothing, ebbed upwards. Her contact with the ground shrunk and shrunk until her entire round body was airborne. She pitifully moved the pudgy mounds of her arms and legs around, struggling, as she floated upwards, the hose whipping around in her mouth as she jerked her head to and fro, looking over cheeks the size of softballs. Slowly, she turned over, her blonde, highlighted hair draping downwards, until the rounded expanse of her butt was pointed skywards, the brand name of the pants stretched and distorted over the black rolling hills of her huge, inflated butt cheeks.

“And...done!” Ginger said, turning around and looking at the ground where the girl was, now empty. “Oh no. Oh no.” She said, looking around.

“Mmmmmph! Mmmmmph! Mmmmmmph!” the girl screamed, looking down on Ginger, trying ineffectually to get her attention. The waistline of her pants creaked and rode further and further down, exposing an impressive plumber’s crack over the seat of her tightly stretched yoga pants, and a bit of her pink panties, drawn tight and straining down the cavernous depths of her butt cheeks. Ginger spun around, looking, then spotted the hose, followed it up, and jumped back, startled, when she saw the looming, round bulk of the girl’s inflating body. She was ten feet around or more, her stretchy Fall outfit doing an admirable job containing what parts of her expanding, inflating body they could as they widened and stretched. The neckline of her shirt groaned around her ballooning cleavage, the squeaking, squealing hems of her sweatshirt and undershirt stretched across the vast roundness of her exposed midriff, opposite the rounded waistline of her yoga pants, creaking as her butt cheeks blew up and out. She looked down at Ginger, her blonde hair falling down and swaying freely, along with the two dangling drawstrings on the waistline of her yoga pants and the shoelaces of one of her keds, and pointed towards her face and the hose as best she could with her two tiny hands. Ginger quickly grabbed onto the hose and pulled. With a huge gust of wind, the large shadow over her sped away as the girl’s round body rocketed and twirled away, making a reverberating, farty noise similar to a deflating balloon. Ginger watched the girl’s body zoom away into the distance until a building blocked her view. She took a sharp intake of breath between her teeth.


“Yeaaaah…I should probably go…” she said, before taking hold of her cart and running off, hoping nobody else got in her way.

Author's Note: 

I had planned and procrastinated writing this, but ended up doing it last minute to help round out the entries in the "stretchy clothes" category of the semiannual Prose That Blows X contest.  I wasn't completely happy with it and had trouble incorporating the theme, staying within the standards of quality, and keeping it under the word limit, but I must have done something right cause it won Best Overall Story.  I'm just putting this here for all to enjoy, I do the rest of my work on FurAffinity.

Average: 4 (13 votes)