One of Our Own

For most people, one of the pleasures of travelling by train is that you can simply sit back and do nothing. For Kimmy however, there was always more to do on a four hour journey than simply watch the countryside passing by her window, she supressed a naughty smirk as she ran a hand along the side of her thigh, feeling the outline of her phone. It was thrilling to think how many delights that phone contained, that she could lay her hands on at moment’s notice. A middle-aged couple sat across from her carefully deploying their packed lunch onto the table, while over the aisle was a youngish gentleman reading a magazine. They had no idea what Kimmy was about to do, just checking text messages probably, or Facebook. These missing moments were always her favourite time to indulge in her secret little pleasure, especially given the public setting. She took the phone out and carefully held it up to her face, making sure that nobody else could see what she was looking at.

Kimmy had a fetish, something that turned her on that nobody else knew about. Her secret desire was to be inflated like a balloon, her entire body blown up as though she were hollow and would just expand in all directions if air were to be pumped into her. All fantasy, of course, sadly for Kimmy her longings could never be realised, but it was fun to imagine, especially when surrounded by other people. There was something she loved about the fact that everyone in the train could watch her, small, uninflated exterior blushing ever so slightly, giving only the tiniest hint of the huge blimp girl writhing within, desperate to burst free from her demure cage.

The plan was to enjoy a surreptitious session of ogling some pictures of inflated women and imagining each one as herself. To aid her with this, she had built up a small collection of such images where the drawn inflatee bore some resemblance to her; the same fairy-tale blonde hair and magical brown eyes. She opened the browser on her phone and typed in the address of a website where those who had the same fetish could share stories they had written and pictures they had drawn. As it loaded she carefully slid her hand under the table, biting her bottom-lip gently as she imagined her arse and thighs expanding at her touch, before remembering where she was. She blushed slightly as she put her hand on top of the table and attempted to hide a small involuntary smile behind her phone.

Unfortunately for Kimmy, the train company had some policy about protecting kids from the evils of porn. Despite having a fast connection, a stern firewall stood between her and her fetish fuel. ‘This website has been flagged as adult content’ the notice on her screen wagged its finger in admonishment, ‘web users are blocked from accessing such content from this location’. She gnashed her teeth in frustration, the train was pulling away from the city now and rows of suburban semis gave way to the familiar blur of high-speed hedgerows, farmhouses and cows that made up most of her journey. She looked back at her phone. No signal. Damn it!

Kimmy flushed with unmet sexual desire. It was bad enough she couldn't actually be pumped full of air but being denied a little something to get her going meant she was just going to have to stare out of the window, wishing for the next four hours. The couple over the table from her were busily eating their packed lunch, while the guy across the aisle turned a page of his magazine. Elsewhere in the carriage groups of teenagers laughed without it ever being clear what was so funny, football fans drank cans of beer and recalled previous escapades, most of which seemed to involve drinking an inordinate amount and then flushing someone’s head down a public toilet or telling some ‘bird’ to ‘get her tits out’, people worked on laptops, watched DVDs or tried to control bored kids. This was going to be hell.

Then Kimmy remembered, she had something on her phone already downloaded, that she could look at. There wasn't going to be much choice, and nothing she hadn't gotten her rocks off to many times before, but it was better than nothing. She searched for the dark corner of her phone where she had hidden such things, and brought up a list of files with names like ‘inflated girl.jpeg’. Just as she was about to click on one of them, she got the feeling that she was being watched. She glanced up from her phone, accidentally making eye contact with the woman opposite. Blushing slightly she brought her phone back up to her face, she felt exposed, the woman couldn't see the phone’s screen, she didn't know what Kimmy was looking at, but somehow Kimmy was worried that it would be seen in her face. It was as though someone could just look at her and say ‘there is a girl thinking about herself being inflated, she's looking at pictures of women blowing up like balloons and imagining herself doing the same thing’. Then she became aware of the young woman listening to an iPod in the seat directly behind her. Could she see what was on Kimmy’s phone? Kimmy didn't know for sure and tried to contort herself with the phone facing out of the window so that nobody could see it, but now she knew she looked suspicious, and even then, what if people could see in the reflection in the window?

Just as all seemed lost, Kimmy remembered she had a story on her phone she hadn’t read yet. Reading a story might actually not be such a bad idea, it wouldn’t be so embarrassing for her if someone saw over her shoulder; she could just get lost amongst the words and imagine herself inflating. She couldn’t remember where she came by the story now, she didn’t generally save them to her phone but surely she must have done so at some point. Hopefully, she thought, the story would feature the right kind of scenarios, with the right kind of girl inflating in just the right way. With a click the screen of her phone was filled with text and she started to read.

The story didn’t have a title; it was about a girl who had an inflation fetish, and who, Kimmy presumed, would soon be inflating herself. It was quite interesting to be reading about a girl who from the beginning had a fetish, ‘one of us’ Kimmy thought, ‘a girl just like me’. Normally stories were written about girls for whom being blown up was some confusing and scary process of which they knew nothing. It turned out as she read the exposition, which had been inelegantly tacked on to the start, that the girl in the story was a girl like Kimmy in more ways than just this. She was described as having long blonde hair, tied back loosely with a few strands hanging free. She had light brown eyes and well-defined, slightly angular features. Kimmy ran her hand along the side of her own face, and wondered why the author had placed so much importance on getting that description in early. It was spooky how perfectly the opening paragraph described Kimmy, and also highly arousing to her when she imagined that everyone who had read this story had done so with the image in their head of a girl who had to be the absolute spit of herself. As she read on more similarities emerged, this girl was also in a public situation, and was also trying hard not to give the game away to the innocent bystanders around her. Kimmy squirmed slightly uncomfortably, again feeling almost as though her thoughts were so strong that everyone else on the carriage could read her mind. By now, the girl in the story was beginning to inflate, and as her tummy filled with air, Kimmy couldn’t resist the urge to stroke her hand over her own tummy, secretly untucking one side of her top to slide a finger over her bare flesh.

She concentrated as hard as she could on the thought of her own tummy swelling up, so hard in fact she could be forgiven for not noticing a subtle gassy sensation in her abdomen. The further into the story she got, the more her own imagination took control of her, meaning the small moan she let out was completely involuntary. Kimmy’s eyes snapped open, she had her hand on her tummy, had just moaned quietly but audibly, and Mr and Mrs Packed Lunch were both looking at her. As this is Britain, no sooner had eye contact been made, than it was broken. Kimmy surmised that they probably thought she had indigestion, this in itself would certainly be quite embarrassing, but a let-off if they didn’t assume she was living out some sexual fantasy. She felt her tummy gurgle lightly; it was like there was some pressure deep inside her. Smiling to herself she leant back in her chair and used this feeling to build her fantasy world back up; the story continued and the girl in it grew bigger and rounder, filling up with air. Kimmy enjoyed the descriptions of the sounds the poor girl’s body made as the pressure inside her built up; reading it was proving so pleasurable that she was having to stop and close her eyes every few minutes just to let her imagination work. She opened one eye slightly just to peep at the people around her ensuring nobody was looking straight at her before sliding a hand beneath the table for a second time, running it up the inside of her thigh and gently up the crease between her legs, having to bite her tongue to keep herself from moaning aloud again.

The ‘Kimmy’ in the story grew bigger and fatter, creaking and groaning until the pressure inside her was too much to bear then with a gasp and a boom, she exploded. A shiver ran down Kimmy’s spine, this was too much for her to bear, and she felt an aching desire to be the girl in the story. Her stomach grumbled again, and Kimmy idly slid her hand upwards and over it. It felt rounder than normal, and that sensation of pressure inside her was somewhat stronger. Opening her eyes she looked down to see it protruding slightly, and pressing her hand on it compressed the bulge she saw, only for the feeling of pressure to increase and her tummy spring back out again. Kimmy didn’t know what was happening now, but a voice in her head was telling her that this was a good thing, she was a little bit bloated, that was all, but she could pretend to herself that she was inflating, her belly was being pumped with air just like the girls in the stories she read.

As she gently stroked her hand in little circles around the circumference of her ball-shaped abdomen, it made another bubbling sound. She looked up apologetically at the couple opposite, but they either didn’t hear, or they heard and didn’t want to acknowledge it. Her tummy wasn’t half getting big though, and as much as the thought of herself being inflated was tickling her lemons, Kimmy had to contend with the fact that it had always just been a fantasy, a girl blowing up like a human balloon on public transport couldn’t be a good thing. Her belly had now swollen to the point that it was stretching her top, making her look like a pregnant woman who hadn’t been able to find any suitable maternity clothes.

Kimmy continued to bloat up, her abdomen gurgling some more and becoming rounder and tighter with every passing second. If she placed her hand against it she could actually feel her hand being pushed away by the expanding gases inside her; yet even as she felt the panic levels rising, these were matched by her state of arousal, causing her to blush bright red, and pushing her nipples through the light cotton of her top. She rubbed her hand over her crotch even as the space between it and the underside of the table became narrower. Then, suddenly, Mrs Packed Lunch leant across the table and placed her hand on the top of Kimmy’s arm.

“Are you OK my dear” she asked, glancing down at Kimmy’s bulging tummy, which was now pushing against the edge of the table. Kimmy just gave her a wide-eyed expression so she continued “you must be due any day now”, giving Kimmy a kindly but concerned smile. Kimmy looked down and indeed her belly had plumped up and widened to the point where she did look like she was nine-months pregnant, if not bigger. How had the woman, who saw her before not noticed that Kimmy’s size was a new development? She supposed that it wasn’t every-day girls just blew up like balloons, and if the woman couldn’t remember Kimmy being this big before then she must just assume she’d misremembered.
“I… I…” Kimmy stammered, again feeling almost as if to speak would be to allow the woman to read her mind, and give away just how arousing it was for her to inflate. Even just having this stranger eyeing up her expanding body and touching her arm was something of an excitement.

“I’ll get someone for you” Mrs Packed-Lunch replied as Kimmy looked down at her body again. Her hips had bulged out to the sides and her leggings felt tight. As she squirmed she could feel that her thighs were more tightly pressed together than they had been; they too were being pumped full of air. It felt as though she were sitting on an inflatable cushion as her bum expanded, spreading out to the sides onto the empty seat beside her and pressing against the wall on the other side. Mr Magazine had also glanced up from his reading material at Kimmy’s predicament, causing her to blush again. From his vantage point he could see what Mrs Packed-Lunch could not, he could see Kimmy’s bulging thighs and arse stretching her leggings tightly. She knew she would have to get up out of her seat as she could feel that she would soon be wedged in by her voluminous body.

Mrs Packed-Lunch had managed to get the attention of the train conductor who was heading down the carriage towards them as Kimmy squeezed herself out of the chair and into the aisle. Now everyone could see just how her bum and thighs had blimped up, along with her hips, which were much more vivaciously curved than before, and almost as wide as the aisle. Her belly was now so big that it was clear she wasn’t just heavily pregnant, it was the size of a Pilates ball and bulging out from just beneath her crotch, took up almost the full length of her torso such that her breasts, which themselves looked fuller than before rested on top of her bloated mid-section. Kimmy could hear some chatter from elsewhere in the carriage as people giggled and remarked on this huge blimp-girl blocking the aisle.

“What’s going on here?” came the conductor’s voice from behind her.

“This pregnant lady appeared to be in some difficulty” came the reply, as Mrs Packed lunch eyed Kimmy’s bulging body up and down, her mouth slightly agape as she tried to figure out whether Kimmy had always been this large.

“I’m… not pregnant!” Kimmy squeaked, still scared to speak too loud lest her enthusiasm for her state be heard.

“You weren’t this big before either” Mrs P-L replied, “I’m sure when you sat down opposite me you were just a mere slip of a girl”

“Y- Yes” Kimmy gasped “I’m… I’m getting bigger!”, and true enough as everyone now gazed at her expanding body, she was getting larger and rounder; her hips were now touching the chairs either side of her, her clothes stretched so tight it felt like they could burst off her and her breasts had filled out like two balloons, her nipples still standing proud like little flags of arousal indicating her sexual excitement.

She felt a hand against her pumped thigh behind her, just softly groping at her and turned her head to get a look over her shoulder, it was Miss iPod, who had taken an interest in her plight.

“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you” she said, “I’m a student doctor… now we just need to work out what’s happening to you.”

“She’s inflating!” remarked the conductor “It’s as though she were blowing up like a balloon, an allergic reaction perhaps”. Kimmy felt herself glow deep purple as more and more people turned their attentions towards her. She could feel the rumbling still going on deep within her and the pressure inside her was increasing still. She could hear a creaking and popping sound, and a small blast of cold air against her naked buttocks along with some more giggling from behind her. Her shorts had begun to split open. All Kimmy wanted to do was to get out of this situation, she wanted a little bit of privacy, partly to save her from embarrassment, partly so she could let her emotions go and actually enjoy being pumped up, but also because she had started to wonder if she might pop. It seemed that she was going down a very similar route to the girl in the story, and if that were the case, and this was a scenario Kimmy knew all too well from the fantasies she played out in her head and the role-plays she had with guys she met online, she was going to explode, loudly and pleasurably, detonate with a giant bang and that would be the climax of the pleasure that was also building up inside her.

“I should get out” Kimmy said, blushing uncontrollably, “It’ll be alright, I just…” she tried to think of an excuse, but instead just concluded by saying “if I don’t get out of here I’ll explode!”. By now some of the people further down the carriage were convinced Kimmy was playing a huge practical joke.

“Don’t worry” replied Miss iPod. “People don’t explode, it may feel like you’re burning up right now, but you’re not about to pop like a balloon”. She was right about the first part. “You just need some anti-histamines or something.” Kimmy’s body creaked loudly as her bulging hips pressed against the chairs either side of the aisle. She gasped and twisted her body around, hoping that she could fit through sideways. After some struggling she managed to get stuck with her swollen rear pressing against the table, much to the displeasure of the couple sat there. Her crotch surged forward, pressing against the seat that the unfortunate Mr Magazine was sat in. Kimmy grunted softy with the discomfort but as the pressure inside her pulsed, the sensation in her crotch was not altogether unpleasant, especially as she felt a hand on it. The man she had trapped in his seat was pushing back against her mounting flesh.

“Is this one of those hidden camera shows?” he asked. He continued to rub his hand over Kimmy’s crotch, seemingly unaware of what was actually beneath her taut denim shorts. Meanwhile another young lady who had been sat behind him eating a yoghurt reached over and gave her bloated bottom a gentle poke as it began to intrude into her personal space. All this prodding and squeezing from complete strangers, unaware they were touching up a big bloated girl made Kimmy blush and she sank her head into her swollen bosom, hoping to avoid any eye contact and wishing for an end to this.

“It must be” replied Miss Yoghurt  “I saw something on Trigger Happy TV once where a guy wore an inflatable suit in a lift, this must be the same kind of thing.” The girl ran her hand down Kimmy’s bloated thigh, feeling the firm fabric of her leggings “she’s wearing some kind of suit under her clothes, and then there’s a cylinder of compressed air somewhere that she’s using to blow the suit up.”

“It’s not a joke.” Kimmy grunted as her breasts puffed up against her chin and her arms began to rise away from her body “I’m inflating, I’m filling up with air and I think I may go pop at any moment!” Her body creaking loudly gave credence to this claim but still the passengers didn’t seem to believe that this was really a girl swelling up. If only her clothes revealed some skin then they could see it was her inflating beneath them and not a suit, but she was headed to an interview for a summer placement and had therefore dressed conservatively, apart from her shorts, which she had planned to change for a pencil-skirt upon arrival. In Kimmy’s fantasies, the girl always burst in the end, and now Kimmy was living her own fantasies, it felt fantastic to be honest but she was in two minds about whether she really wanted to explode. She had a good career to look forward to if she got this placement, and swelling up and going bang on a train before getting to the interview would, hurt her chances to put it lightly.

As the pulsating gases pumped and pumped inside her she felt her hands swell slightly, stiffening and forcing her to drop her phone, which bounced off her bloated hip with a deep booming sound as though it were hitting a trampoline and landed at the conductor’s feet.

“What’s this?” said the conductor, reading from the conclusion of the story open on the screen. “something about an inflating girl, and er… this is erotic fiction!” Kimmy wished she could sink her head into her puffy body as her secret was broadcast to the entire carriage.

“Woah!” Mrs Yoghurt swiftly withdrew the hand that had been sliding almost lovingly over Kimmy’s swollen arse while Mr Magazine’s unknowing caressing of Kimmy’s bulging crotch slowed a little.

“So she’s done this to herself, and is saying about how she’s going to explode, just for her own sexual pleasure” he snapped. “well I feel used”. Everyone who had been exploring Kimmy’s balloon body backed away from her.

“We should puncture her suit” the conductor said “she’s blocking the aisle and creating a hazard”. Kimmy heard more people laughing at her, and commenting about this girl who, in their view had worn an inflatable suit onto a train for her own perverted desires, how selfish of her. She really wished she could explode now, and if the conductor did try and puncture her, with the immense pressure within, that was surely what would happen. Her whole body creaked ominously as she grew bigger and fatter, bulging out into every nook and cranny of the carriage around her and pressing Mr Magazine and the poor Mr and Mrs Packed-Lunch, neither of whom had scolded her against the edges of their seating areas.

“Gonna blow” Kimmy tried to cry out, only managing a muffled scream. Miss iPod and Miss Yoghurt were now up off their seats and backing nervously away, while other people decided to run for the exits leaving only those unfortunates that Kimmy had trapped stuck on the carriage with her. Mr Magazine was pushing frantically against Kimmy’s crotch, hoping to somehow prevent it from smothering him, but Kimmy knew she would explode before that happened, her body was quivering and every part of her stretched as tight as a drum. With a tearing sound further stitches blew in her clothing, leaving huge holes for her swollen flesh to poke through, and the pitch of her body’s creaking deepened further. Kimmy closed her eyes tightly.

BOOM!

The explosion was deafening to those within earshot, and shattered the windows on the carriage, but it wasn’t as messy as everyone feared… or at least as those who realised it wasn’t a suit feared. Those that expected to see Kimmy stood there naked when they re-entered the carriage saw only a pair of high-heels in the middle of the aisle, and scraps of denim and cotton scattered over all the tables and chairs. Those who had been trapped were free to get up and survey the wreckage, but no trace of Kimmy was ever found, and nobody would ever believe the story that was told when the police wished to file their missing person’s report.