Chemistry

He leaned back on the sofa, casting an appreciative eye across the penthouse apartment. "It's a very nice place you have here."

"Thank you." She poured two glasses of wine, setting the bottle down on the kitchen counter.

"It must not come cheap."

"Oh, it's quite expensive." She palmed a small tablet, glancing at him to ensure he was distracted before dropping it into one of the glasses with practiced ease.  The tablet broke apart, rapidly dissolving in the wine. "But it's a small price to pay for privacy."

She took up both glasses and left the kitchen, heels clicking on the tile floor as she crossed the open room.  As she approached she offered him the glass; he took it gratefully, swirling the wine around a bit before taking a sip.  Smiling, she walked away, acting as if she was looking out the wide window in front of her even as she carefully observed his reflection.  Judging from how eagerly he downed the wine the club didn't seem to whet his desire for drink, and he clearly didn't notice anything odd about it, seeming more focused on her how ass looked in that dress.

"So what do you do?" he asked.

She ran down the list in her mind: Chemistry, biology, engineering... "A bit of everything," she replied, turning to face him.  He had the look of a man who was out of it yet too out of it to realize it.  Not completely drunk, but still pliable.  She smiled as she neared him, setting her glass down on the low coffee table.

"So you're a... Renaissance... woman?"

She knelt down in front of him and began unbuckling his belt. "You could say that.  I'm a woman of many talents."  She pulled him out of his boxers, watching as he stiffened before her eyes. "Allow me to demonstrate."

His back involuntarily arched as she took him into her mouth, slowly working its length.  Her tongue gently stroked him as she lowered her lips onto him, and as she drew back she swirled her tongue around the tip.  It was as if she knew his body as well as he did, pushing him forward, yet stopping just short of the edge.

She looked up at him, staring at the ceiling, oblivious to the fact that his once-trim and toned stomach was suddenly beginning to rise up.  She pulled him out of her mouth, working him with her hands as she watched, dress shirt stretching across his girth.  She wanted to touch it, caressing his skin as it grew beneath her fingertips, but no.  Not yet.

He realized something was wrong just as the first button snapped off, sailing into the air and revealing a diamond-shaped patch of skin.  He looked down at her in shock, his view half-blocked by the dome of his stomach and growing smaller as two more buttons shot off into the distance.  He tried to speak, but could only muster a "what-" before she cut him short by burying his shaft in her mouth, working it with a newfound intensity.

The rest of his words came out as a series of moans as he gripped the sides of the sofa, paralyzed by her ministrations.  The last of the buttons on his shirt gave way as his pectorals swelled, his chest soon rivaling, then surpassing her own.  His stomach continued growing wider and fuller, blocking his view of her even as it spread to his sides and back.  Below, his ass was filling his pants to bursting and beyond, stitches tearing as it tore the material apart.

Drawing him from her mouth a second time she stood up, watching as his hips and chest began to merge with his belly, his body beginning to take on a more rounded shape.  She found the sight of the puffed-up man lying on her sofa almost comical: A growing ball with a head and limbs, with shoes, torn pant legs and shirt sleeves as the last remnants of his decency.  But not his dignity, she thought, as she watched him rock to and fro, attempting to stand up while simultaneously feeling himself over and trying to squeeze the air out.

She took a sip of her wine to cleanse her palate before lifting her leg and pressing the heel of her shoe into the underside of his belly. "Stop wiggling, please."

He froze, too scared of what might happen should he move. "What's going on?!  Why am I... why am I getting-"

"Inflated?" She tipped her glass, finishing off the last of the wine. "It's very simple.  Your drink contained a substance of my own devising that causes you to expand when sexually aroused."  She lowered her leg before kicking off her shoes. "So if you want to stop getting bigger I suggest thinking of a cold shower."

As his face was blocked by his body she could only imagine his reaction, but as she slipped out of her dress she noticed his growth slowing before stopping entirely, leaving him the size of a beanbag chair.  He had no fair amount of self-control, she thought, but judging from his heavy breathing he was still shaken up.  "Good." She slipped out of her panties, leaving her in her pantyhose and garterbelt.  "There's something I should warn you of, however.  I've noticed that as the subject grows larger they tend to grow more sensitive."

She sprang up onto the sofa before mounting him, straddling his body with her thighs.  She stared down at him, lust smouldering in her eyes as she rubbed her hands across his chest. As she leaned forward she pressed her breasts into him as she lowered her voice sultry whisper. "...so try not to think about how good this feels."

His eyes widened in fear as he felt himself stiffen, followed by the unmistakable sensation of growth.  She laughed, bouncing and grinding on him, reveling in the tautness of his skin and the movement of air beneath her. "Come on," she breathed, "be my blimp... bigger... bigger..."

As his body inflated so too did his limbs.  His biceps and thighs grew thicker, going from normal to muscled to fat to beyond in a matter of moments, tearing apart the last bits of his clothing.  As the air spread down his arms and legs they filled out into overstuffed caricatures of themselves, thick and conical, still able to move and bend but comically misproportioned to his round body and utterly useless to him now.

He clenched his fists, only to have them be forced open by his swelling palms.  He flexed his fingers, only to have them puff up as his hands transformed into a collection of flesh-toned balloons.  His shoes began to bulge, and seconds later they exploded off of him, ripped apart by two bloated loaves twice their size.  Even his face was not untouched as his cheeks bulged, forcing him to squint.

Every part of him was filled with air, wanting to and yet unable to stop, spurred onward by the woman riding him.  The pressure slowly began to rise, and still he grew.  His skin began to grow tighter, and still he grew.  His body creaked more and more with each of her bounces, and still he grew.

"Please... stop it." He forced the words through pursed lips as loudly as he could. "I'm too big!"

"No," she panted, in a haze of lust. "No.  Not too big.  Can... can barely touch ceiling."

His body was filled to the brim, aching for release. "You're going to pop me!"  

"No.  The biggest.  Too big to pop.  Special formula.  Perfect."

As she said that the pressure stopped rising, leaving him with a near-unbearable tightness and fullness.  Nearly enough to pop him, but stopping just short of the edge.

"Yes!  My blimp!"  Atop his belly her bouncing grew more frantic, his body groaning as she ground into him harder and harder. "So big, so huge, so tight, so-" Her body tensed up as she trembled and came, letting out a silent cry before falling forward onto him, panting, a dreamy expression on her face.

"Please," he grunted. "You have to deflate me."

"No.  Never.  You're the biggest I've ever had."

"What are you going to do to me?"

A weary, satisfied laugh left her lips; it was the single most terrifying thing he had ever heard. "Whatever I want."