The "UP" - Grade

Date Written: 
07/26/2017

The “UP” – Grade    by Heliumfloater

Maggie loved the fact that she had lost the weight after the surgery, but didn’t like the side effects. But she had heard that it would happen, and had expected it, but was not expecting that it would affect her as much as it had.

It had been a year since the gastric bypass surgery, and in that span of time she had lost 136 pounds. She was now back to the same weight she was when in high school. But the consequences of losing that much weight meant she was left with some sagging skin. And the first place on her body that she noticed diminishing was her breasts, before the rest of her followed suit. She had deflated from a pert DD bra to needing barely a B cup, and her husband had seen her many times grasping her limp tit-flesh when she stepped out of the shower or was getting dressed, complaining about the ‘empty cups’.

And she was determined to do something about it. And the fix was not going to be cheap.

Or was it?

Being the dutiful husband, Dave couldn’t stand to see how depressed his wife was over the shrinking of her chest. Though he had always thought of her as beautiful, even at her heaviest, he had to admit that she became even more sexy as the pounds came off. It was she, though, that found herself missing ‘the twins’, more than him. Therefore, when the year had passed and her weight had stabilized, they made an appointment to see the least reputable plastic surgeon in town to talk about ‘filling the girls back up’.

“I mean, just look at them!” Maggie said, exasperated. She sat on the exam table with the paper gown open in the front so that the doctor could see her deflated chest balloons. Doctor Ludwig Von Groper took a breast in each hand, testing their weight and skin elasticity for so long that Dave had to clear his throat loudly to stop the medical professional from rhythmically fondling the patient. Maggie seemed oblivious to the overzealous lechery. “What can you do for me?”

“What can I do to you?” the doctor’s voice shook excitedly. “I mean…ahem…what would I recommend be done to replace nature’s abundance?”

Maggie blushed. “Yes, I want my big, bouncy boobs back!” she said, a little more forcefully that she had planned. “But without all the rest of my weight back, of course. Or neck strain.”

“Then I have good news and bad news,” Dr. Groper announced, settling onto a rolling stool while Maggie covered herself up. “The good news is that there are several option to give you back your youthful volume and bounce, but, unfortunately, your health insurance doesn’t cover this type of cosmetic surgery.”

“Options?” Dave asked. “Like what types of breast implants?”

“More like, what your options are with what kind of implant AND where you might have it done,” the doctor said while typing some notes into his laptop computer. “You have one advantage going for you right now. Your skin hasn’t shrunk much yet, so your breasts, like partially deflated balloons, still have the capacity to stretch back to their original size; if not bigger.”

“Bigger?” Maggie mumbled with the hint of a smile.

He halted his notations. “But I just want to be, for the lack of a better phrase, ‘upfront’ with you. The insurance company you prescribe to doesn’t provide for the work you want. You will be paying out of pocket, but that also removes you from the limitations an insurer can put upon you. You can go where you want and have done what you want, as long as you have the money.”

The discussion turned, at this point, to sums of money, and how much Dr. Groper would charge for the procedure for the patient to achieve the desired results. The sum was astronomical compared to what Maggie had planned for, and she and her husband left the doctor’s office that day a little disappointed and dejected.

Later that week, Maggie, undaunted, remembered what Dr. Groper had hinted at, that there might be other practitioners out there that could do the procedure and giving her what she wanted so badly. Even in other countries that were less strict with medical oversight and regulation. Doing searches in less reputable areas of the internet yielded several options, which Dave refused to agree on, such as a clinic in Bermuda, another in Belize, two in Granada, and a few in Mexico. With no guarantee of proper surgical training and no follow-up for the procedure, Dave shot down the suggestions. “It’s not worth saving a few dollars if you get sick from complications to a plastic surgery procedure done in a third world foreign country,” he said, matter-of-fact.

Maggie knew what he meant, but still didn’t agree with him. Though she said she would stop pushing to get implants until they could afford them, she secretly plotted and planned what to do to get what she wanted much sooner. When the opportunity presented itself, Maggie allowed her obsession to get the best of her, and she put her plan into place.

Two friends had proposed a girls-only weekend in San Diego, saying that a few days on the beach in La Jolla would be just the thing to lift Maggie’s spirits. Dave reluctantly kissed her goodbye on Thursday morning, and by afternoon the three ladies were basking in the California sun. Krissi and Heather had already agreed to cover for their friend as Maggie slipped across the border and had the procedure done at the Pecho Globo Clinic in Tijuana. By Monday, with the surgical swelling beginning to decline, the two friends drove Maggie from the airport and dropped her off at home. She had arrived an hour before Dave got off work, and so she took the time to prepare herself for when he came through the door, and the questions he was bound to have at that time.

When Dave arrived at home, her found his wife lying seductively on their bed, clad only in black panties and a very overstuffed matching bra. Her breasts, he noticed, were not only as big as they had been before the weight-loss surgery, but Maggie had requested to go one cup size larger than before. A smile crossed her face when his jaw hit the floor. “You didn’t!” he exclaimed, flabbergasted.

“Yes, I did,” she answered coyly. “And this birthday gift to you has a no-return policy.”

Stepping carefully to the side of the bed, Dave reached a hand tenuously towards his wife. “But my birthday isn’t for another month. Can I touch them?”

“Very lightly,” Maggie said, taking his hands and gently placing them on her swollen mounds. “I didn’t understand all of the instructions from the doctor, since he only spoke Spanish, but the one thing I did hear him say was that the swelling would be gone in a week, and the healing would take another three weeks after that, during which time there is to be no aggressive fondling.  So, by the time your birthday is here, the twins will be ready for some seriously playtime!”

Maggie was glad that Dave hadn’t reacted angrily, as she had expected him to do so. She had anticipated that once he found out that she had snuck to Mexico for the treatment, he would be mad that he was left out of the decision for the procedure. But as he sat, fascinated, stroking the overstretched bra cups and her swollen flesh, she knew that all would be alright.

A month later, on the day before Dave’s birthday, a small package unexpectedly arrived. The postmark from where is was sent from bore the logo of the Pecho Globo Clinic of Tijuana. Maggie open the box, only to find a device about the size of an iPod and a single sheet of paper with a set of instructions in very broken English, which she mentally translated.

“Dear Senora Castillo,

We at the Pecho Globo Clinic would like to say muchos gracias (thanks) for using our services, and hope that your condicion medico is mucho mejor (you are feeling better after the surgery)! Since you were such a bonito paciente (good patient), the doctor made decision to give you the upgrade to the implant you requested for no extra pesos. The nuevo ajustar (new adjustable) implant can you make grande or pequena (big or small). This implant is made in our country (hencho Mexico), and we get them very cheap (barato). We think you like nuevo implant.”

Maggie turned the device over in her hand. She noticed that it looked more like a small television remote, with three buttons for pushing: one with an up arrow, one with a down arrow, and a third with a square on it.

“The arriba fleche (up arrow) make you mas grande (bigger), abajo fleche (down arrow) make you mas pequena (smaller). Cuadrado (square) make you normal. You try!. As Americans say, have fun!”
“What the…” Maggie mumbled, reading over the instruction sheet again. “They put in a different implant? And what does this remote have to do with what they put in me?”

She pushed the up arrow on the remote…and nothing happened. She tried it again, with the same result. Disappointed, Maggie pushed the other two buttons, and still nothing. Undaunted, she turned the remote over and opened the door to the power supply. No batteries there, so she scavenged through her kitchen until she found the right ones and placed them in the receptacles. Once again, she pressed the up arrow, and a light blinked above the button, and this time she was rewarded with a high-pitched hissing sound.

Strangely, the sound was accompanied by a tightness in her chest under her shirt. Since the surgery, Maggie had been wearing sports tight bras to reduce the lasting post-surgical swelling. Tomorrow was to be the first day of wearing a regular bra, which she had bought the week before. The sports bra she was currently wearing had a little more stretch to it, but not a lot more. “What the…” she exclaimed loudly, causing the poodle at her feet to jump away and bark sharply at her. “Frida, hush!” Maggie commanded, waving the temperamental dog away as sought the origin of the hissing. The sports bra was suddenly digging into her back and shoulders from under her oversized t-shirt, and she had to put the remote down so that she could use both hands to adjust the impeding garment. That was when she looked down and noticed that she could no longer see her feet. “This can’t be happening! I’m not supposed to still be having post-op swelling by now. I have big plans for my husband’s birthday tomorrow!”

Whatever the hissing was from, it had stopped. The remote’s light had stopped flashing as well. Picking it up, Maggie wondered if the hissing was somehow connected to the remote. Pushing the ‘up’ button again, the light flashed several times, and the hissing started again, and suddenly the bra clamped tighter as she watched her t-shirt rise upward and outward away from her chest. Excitedly, she stripped off the shirt and unhooked the sports bra, now staring at the twins that were now two cup sizes bigger than they had been a minute before. Taking the remote in hand again, she depressed the up arrow once more, and this time saw and felt her breasts expand before her eyes. “Holy shit, I’m inflatable!” she laughed, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet in amusement. “Wait until Dave sees them. They will be the best birthday present he has ever had!”

Looking closer at the remote, rubbing one hand over her expanded tits, she wondered, “So what are the other buttons for?” Pressing the down arrow, she saw the light flash again, and this time the hissing changed in tone to a more low, hollow sound. Her breasts slowly began to shrink, slightly, but after a few seconds the contraction ceased. They remained bigger than when she had first opened the package, though. Pushing the button with the square, her breasts rapidly diminished back to their original size, with a sound emitting from them like that of a balloon that had been untied and the air expelled from it. “So, when I push the up button, I blow up a little. And when I push the down button, they deflate a little. And when I push the square button, they deflate all the way rapidly. Got it.”

Positioning herself in front of the full-length mirror in the bedroom, Maggie gave into the temptation and pressed the up arrow twice. The hissing and inflating started again, this time continuing for several seconds longer than before. Her breast balloons expanded more as a smile that spread across her face. This time, though, the feeling of elation was accompanied by a particularly familiar tingle in her loins. Watching her boobs inflate was turning her on. He set the remote down again, and slid a hand down her pants, sweeping her finger over her engorged clit and into her wet pussy. “Ooooooo…” she moaned, waddling over to the bed while stroking herself. Lying down, her one hand rubbed faster while the other played with a swollen nipple of an inflated tit. Sooner than expected, she exploded with a cry of ecstasy, her body awash oxytocin and warmth. She lay there, catching her breath, a hand cradling each blown-up boob, as sweat trickled from her forehead. “Wow, this is quite the upgrade” she murmured, half-dazed from the orgasm. “What ‘till Dave sees me tomorrow.”

Unfortunately, her husband still had to work at the bank on his birthday. But it still meant that he would be home for dinner, with plenty of time for other festivities. When he got home, he found his favorite meal prepared, warm and inviting on the table. Maggie met him at the door with a long, passionate kiss, and proceeded to serve him dinner while wearing a belted red silk robe with nothing on underneath except for a matching pair of red panties. She left her E cup breasts exposed and glistening throughout the meal just to tease him. “It’s been a month since your implant surgery,” he stammered, fighting to comfortably sit in the dining room chair with a hard on. “Does this mean I can finally do some ‘aggressive fondling’ of your new assets?”

“Oh, you will be doing a lot of that, and more, I promise,” Maggie said seductively. She rose and took his hand, silently commanding him out of the chair. “I have a little show and tell for you first. And then I plan to start the night off with a bang by doing you in your favorite way.”

“You mean…” he faltered excitedly, following her into the living room.

“Yes,” she answered his unspoken question. “I plan on using my new assets on you.” She guided him to his favorite reclining chair, but before pushing him into the seat, Maggie undid his belt and slowly slipped his pants and boxers to the floor. His dick throbbed with anticipation, standing at attention as rigid as a flag pole. “So, what is this about ‘show and tell’?” Dave panted expectantly.

Maggie stood before her husband, looking down on him as she unbelted the robe and allow it to slide off her lithe frame to the floor. “My surgery came with a bit of a surprise. The doctor who did the procedure said that since I was such a good patient, he decided to upgrade my implants to a different model, one that had not been approved for use yet in the United States. I didn’t find out until yesterday just what kind of an ‘upgrade’ he put in me…but I think you will like it. See that remote-control unit?” She pointed to the grey device on the table next to his chair. “Pick it up and press the ‘up’ arrow once.”

Dave did as he was instructed. He pushed the button, and a light flickered on the top of the remote. A slight hissing sound could be heard, like a tire being filled from an air compressor. Dave, transfixed, watched as his wife placed a hand underneath each breast for emphasis, and he saw them grow larger. “One more time,” she purred when the hissing stopped. He obeyed, and his eyes grew wider as her boobs blew up more. “There, that should be enough,” Maggie smiled, lowering herself to her knees. “do you like the upgrade?”

“Are you kidding?” Dave said, almost choking. “I have a blow-up doll for a wife!”

“Yes,” she cooed, shuffling on her knees closer to his so her breasts were in his lap. “But could a blow-up doll do this?” She grabbed a small bottle of flavored lubricant from the table and smeared a generous portion onto his upright manhood. Then she lowered her boobs so that his rigid dick slid into her inflated cleavage and pressed them together so that they surrounded him tightly. “I have been waiting all day to tit-fuck you with my new inflatables. I hope you don’t mind.”

“This is the best birthday present ever!” he said as his wife began to bob up and down, her warm breast-flesh gliding over his fully engorged tent pole. He placed the remote down on the table next to his chair so that both of his hands were free to reach out and squeeze her burgeoning tits as she stroked him. Maggie closed her eyes, knowing that her actions were turning her on as much as it was her husband. A moan escaped her mouth when Dave tweaked and twisted her nipples. She felt his dick grow harder and longer, knowing that it did that when he was getting close to climax. But then she felt something else. She was growing too.

“Hey, stop that!” she said sharply. “I think I’m big enough already.”

Dave had been drowning in the feeling of near orgasm, but her statement snapped him out of his reverie. “What?”

“I said stop blowing me up bigger,” Maggie stopped her stroking, since it was getting harder to press her inflating boobs together.

“But I’m not doing anything,” Dave replied. He saw that she was right; her breasts were much bigger than they had been a few minutes before.

“You aren’t pushing the buttons on the remote?” she asked over the increasing hissing noise.

“No”, he said, looking to his right to where the remote had been. It wasn’t on the table anymore, and the hissing wasn’t stopping.

“Find it,” Maggie said, a note of panic in her voice. “I’m still inflating. We need to make it stop.”

Dave jumped up out of the recliner, and promptly feel on his face. His pants and underwear were still in a tangle around his ankles. He looked up to see his wife trying to squeeze her basketball-sized breasts smaller but was losing the fight. Her face was slowly being obscured by the blossoming balloons. “Is it down there?” she asked, thinking that he had gone to the floor to find the remote. Dave glanced around and couldn’t see the device anywhere near where it had been, and could hear the hissing getting louder. He scrambled to his knees, searching blindly with his hands under nearby furniture but coming back empty.

“Where could it be?” she demanded. “I’m getting too big!”

A low growl issued from the corner of the room. Both people turned in unison to see their poodle, Frida, thrashing her head from side to side with something in her mouth. Dave gasped as he recognized the grey remote which was clamped in the dog’s jaws, and with each bite the up arrow was being pushed. “The dog!” Maggie yelled, pointing. Dave pulled off the clothes around his ankles and dashed after the mutt.  The yelling woman and the running half-naked man startled the pet, and Frida ran for the doggie-door in the kitchen, jumping through at full speed without dropping the remote and bolting into the back yard.

Dave ran through the kitchen doorway and into the yard after the furry thief. He didn’t care that his half-mast junk was au natural as he pursued the beast. His wife was inflating out of control back in the house, and he needed that remote to get her back to normal. The dog, seeing it’s owner chasing after it, thought that this was a game, and played keep-away with the remote while the half-naked man chased her round and round while yelling obscenities.

Meanwhile, inside the house, Maggie, still only clad in red panties, was going crazy listening to the deafening tone of the increasing hiss. Her boobs, now the size of beachballs, continued to stretch and expand before her eyes, rising slightly with each passing second that the remote was being chewed.  Because of her nakedness, she feared to open the blinds to the window to see if her husband had caught the dog yet. But she couldn’t have seen much through the window anyway, with her fem-balloons bobbing upward and growing outward, blocking her vision.  

But then a vaguely familiar sensation touched her. It reminded her of the time she and Dave went parasailing, with the upward, insistent tug of the parachute before they were launched skyward. Her breasts drifted slowly toward the ceiling, arching her back as they insistently pulled her feet off the carpeted floor. “What the hell?” Maggie exclaimed, reaching for the headrest of the Dave’s reclining easy-chair. “I’m floating!” She was only able to clamp one hand tenuously to the piece of furniture, and groped blindly with the other for another anchor as her boobs ballooned into her face. Screaming for her husband to “Get back in here!”, Maggie felt her fingers slowly losing their grip on the leather chair as the upward pull became too strong to oppose. With a shriek, her grip failed, and she shot for the ceiling.

“Honey, I got it!” Dave called out as he ran through the door. The remote was marred with teeth-marks, and his hands were covered in doggie drool, since he had had to wrestle with the hairy hijacker to get the device back. “What do you want me to do with…” he stopped when he noticed that his wife was not in the living room.

“Up here!” Maggie cried. Dave’s eyes followed the sound in the heights of the darkened room. What he saw was his wife’s familiar legs dangling below a pair of racy silk panties that protruded out from under a set of skin-colored blimps. “Get me down!”

“How the hell did you get up there?”

“Don’t ask,” she growled. “I stopped inflating as soon as you got the remote away from the dog. Now deflate me before I pop!”

“How do I deflate you?” Dave asked, proffering the remote in her direction.

“Push any button except the ‘up’ arrow.”

“Okay,” Dave asked, wiping his drool-soaked hand on his shirt before pressing a button.

Maggie took a split second before realizing what she had failed to tell him to do. “Wait…” she blurted at the same time his finger hit the square button.

All the pressure and buoyant gas rushed out of her tits and back into the receptacles inside the implants. Maggie deflated so rapidly that she was falling the ten feet to the floor before she could say another word of warning to her husband. Dave tried to catch her, but both fell into a heap, crashing into and upending the recliner in the process. Fortunately, neither was left with lasting damage. Maybe a bruise or two for their troubles.

As Maggie tried to detangle herself from Dave, her flattened boob balloons slapped him in the head. As the distended, shrinking skin slid off his face, their eyes locked…and they both burst into laughter. “Wow!” she chortled. “I was really floating!”

“How the hell did that happen?” Dave said, placing a hand on her deflated chest. “One minute you were yelling at me to get the dog, and the next minute you are hovering in the air attached to a couple of skin blimps! And what the hell kind of gas is in your implants that caused you to float?”

“Damned if I know,” Maggie replied, watching her stretched skin slowly retract back to the dimensions it was before the blow-up. “Maybe that’s what they meant by giving me an ‘UP’-grade.”
Dave snorted, laying on his back, looking up at the spot where his wife’s nipples had touched the ceiling above him. “Well, you certainly were UP there for the minute.”

She smiled. “That’s the last time I have a medical procedure in another country just because it was cheap.”

He sighed. “Damn, you had me feeling so good there for a moment that I was about to cum all over your inflated tits.”

Maggie climbed on top of Dave, feeling his deflated balloon nudge against her own sweet spot. “Who says we can’t try it again?” She reached for the remote, which Dave had dropped to the floor next to him when he had tried to catch his falling wife. She pushed the up arrow once, twice, and a third time, and her boobs blossomed, stopping their growth in the F-cup range. Dave felt a familiar tingle in his loins, and began to rise to the occasion as Maggie stroked her hands gingerly across the reinflated surfaces of her lady bumps. “Now, where were we?” she said, tossing the remote nonchalantly over her shoulder and taking his dick again into her cleavage canyon.

Just as she began to slide up and down on his pole, she heard yet another burst of hissing.


Gasping, she stopped her erotic action and asked, “Honey, where’s the dog?”

Author's Note: 

Maggie goes to Mexico to get cheap breast implants, but the doctor 'upgraded' them without telling her to inflatable implants

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