Pay-what-you-want story commissions?

Here's something I just tossed into General Chat, in one of those "inflate me!" threads. This is basically what I'm suggesting above; a short prompt (though it can be longer than the below if you like, of course), and I run with it. Once its done, you pay what you like, based on either what you can afford or how happy you are with the story. 

Hi there! It's my first time on these kind of topics (the last one sank before I could have my request ^^)
I'm male, white, hetero, average build. I'm totaly into oral inflation(when a woman inflates someone by blowing really hard into my mouth or especially by blowing hard into a hose/tube attached to the victim's mouth or penis).
Do you think you can put a strong emphasis on the woman's cheeks when she blows into the tube?(realllyyyyyy puffing her cheeks to the maximum, taking loud inhale between each breath)
I really love when a sexy woman inflates someone to pop like this(I'm not into gore though).
Thank you very much and sorry for my crappy english!

And here's the resulting story. It's only lightly proofred/edited, so there's probably some herpaderp mistakes in it. 

You wake up, groggy and disoriented. Last you remember, you were walking home when a small hand came from behind and press a cloth over your mouth. Then, darkness. 

And now...still...darkness? You open your eyes, but can see nothing. As you blink in confusion, trying to catch up to what's going on, a theatrical light snaps on with a resounding echo, yet the scene doesn't become any more clear as to what's going on. 

A woman stands in front of you. She stands in a wide stance, hands on her hips, Wonder Woman style. This might seem comical if she wasn't so CONFIDENT about it--somehow, she makes it work without irony. She stands with her chest especially thrusted out, and it looks fully intentional that she wants you to admire her ample cleavage. The cleavage looks...augmented, really, almost porn-star style with how round, large, and perky they are. But just like the stance, she somehow makes it work without irony. 

She sees your confused, disoriented expression, and smirks as she leans forward. If there was any question before she wants to admire her probably-expensive boobs, she dispells the uncertainty; she practically puts them in your face as she leans forward. 

"Well hello, handsome," she purrs seductively, reaching forward to lightly brush your hair behind your ear with a soft, tickling, teasing touch. From the inky black outside the theatre light, you can see nothing; but multiple female giggles can be heard, and it's obvious you have an unseen audience. 

You gawk, struck silent in surprise. Once you manage to draw your eyes away from the cleavage she's obviously proud of, you're further awed by the woman's face and body. She screams 'porn star' through and through, but you find yourself not minding. Dark, heavily make-uped eyes stare at you through thick lashes, with eyelids half-closed in open seduction. Long, black, curly hair frames her face. Red, pouty lips curl into a smirk against ivory skin. 

"I-I--uhm--" you stammer, but you're nowhere near being able to form coherent sentences when she lifts a leg to staddle you, sitting across your lap and placing an arm on each of your shoulders. 

"Shhh," she sooths, and there's a whistle of appreciate from the unseen audience. 

"No talking," she then intones, yet the second word shifts, taking on an oddly predatory tone. When you open your mouth to inquire, you find yourself gagging in shocked surprised as her hand whips around with lightning speed, shoving something into your mouth with the clear intention of thrusting it down your throat. You gag, and for a thoroughly unpleasant moment, you think she's trying to choke you with a dildo. 

Your mind races to catch up, and you realize that the object is that least too long to be THAT. "Mmpgh, mmh mmph!" are the only surprised sounds you can manage. It appears to be some kind of tube, about 1.5 inches in diameter.

"Shh," she shooshes again. "This will DEFINITELY hurt." Her tone remains reassuring, and she seems to thoroughly enjoy how her tone contradicts her actual words. 

You're helpless. You really should have noticed MUCH before this, but you're restrained to a chair, your arms and legs tied to the arms and legs of the chair. You're forced to crane your neck back as she works the tube deeply into your throat; deeply enough there's no hope of you being able to eject it without pulling it out. You automatically gag and your throat spasms erradically to try to expell the object, but it's no good. Your breath and heartbeat quicken, and the woman is pressed so closely to you that you know she can tell. 

"Nervous?" she purrs. But the reassurance takes on a teasing turn. "No need. I'll be gentle." 

By this time, she's worked the majority of the 18-inch tube down your throat. You can still breath, but it takes more effort than usual. Only about four inches of the tube still juts from your mouth, and your eyes widen as she puts her mouth on the other end, and she meets your eyes as she works it in and out of her mouth briefly, purposefully and consciously making it look like a blowjob-by-proxy. 

Despite the general WEIRD of all this, you find your body responding. But before you have any time to process the arousal, the woman stops the psuedo-blowjob, and even somehow manages to grin around it. Taken a massive breath, she clamps her mouth around the tube and blows. HARD!

Your eyes widen in complete and utter shock. This seems immensely please the unseen crowd as cheers and whistles leak from the darkness. There has to be at least a dozen of them, and all sound female. 

But you have little time or brainpower to put much thought toward them. The single great puff hits your gut virtually immediately, and you're surprised how quick and hard it thrusts your gut out, forcing your to arch your back as it bulges out.

"Ohh, yes," the woman intones appreciatively, and it's obvious she's getting personal enjoyment out of this by a new, if subtle, quiver in her voice. She leans back from you, still in your lap. You're wearing the same clothes as you were before, and she reaches down to lift your shirt, exposing your modestly curved-outward belly.

She rubs it appreciatively, pressing to test the tautness. There's plenty of give, but you're conflicted as you wrestle with conflicting emotions. On one hand, you did NOT sign up for this, and aren't sure you're okay with where this is going. On the other hand, the tightness in your belly, especially as she presses and squeezes, stirs something entirely unexpected but not entirely unpleasant inside of you. 

You're distracted from your conflict as the woman projects her voice to the crowd. "What do you think, ladies? How many puffs can this one take? Place your bets!" 

"He's got tons of room!" one woman calls out. 

"Nahhhh, this ones an early popper," another intones, clearly skeptical. 

"Double or nothing! I'm saying twelve!" yet another calls, sounding confident despite an especially squeaky voice. 

Your...inflator, for lack of a better term, turns back to you. She brings her face next to yours, nuzzling her cheek against yours. "Well well, quite the spread. Let's just see, hmm?" For once, she seems to only be speaking to you. That emerging sense of conflicting, 'I don't want this BUT I DO' assaults you again and that whispering, private voice sends a very special tingle down your spine.

Ironically, your gut clenches with nervousness as she draws away from you and places her mouth back over the tube. She doesn't hesitate to meet your eyes, and your tentative uncertainty seems to spur her on. She takes an even bigger breath than before, and your stomach is more than forced to unclench as it thrusts into a bigger, more-prominent curve. Before it was a mild curve; only two breaths in, it's in thorough 'beer belly' range. The girl who bet 12 may in fact be expecting a lot of you. 

The woman doesn't take her lips from the tube or her eyes from yours, but she keeps rubbing and massaging your belly. It's distinctly tighter now, and you have a feel of being full, and can feel a light, tingling stretch to your skin.

Another deep breath and hard puff. Your inflator is starting to have to work harder; whereas she blew into you with little effort before, her cheeks begin to bulge as she forces the air into you. Your belly has thoroughly rounded out now, and you feel VERY full. She keeps massaging you, and your belly is rapidly losing it's give. 

Deep breath, hard puff. She has to close her eyes briefly with the effort of the puff, and her cheeks pulge still further; like she's trying to blow up an especially large and stubborn balloon. Which, well...maybe she is. 

It's getting uncomfortably tight. Most give to your belly is gone; the light tingle of tight skin from before now feels like a hoard of dancing ants as your skin stretches well beyond what it's used to. Tight and round, it easily looks like you've swallowed a generously sized melon. You can feel her press herself over your very rounded belly, having to work harder to stay in your lap and still reach close to your face. She grips your elbows for leverage, since she doesn't have much perch left. 

Another deep breath and hard blow. She's REALLY having to work now, and you can both feel and see it. Her cheeks bulge so dramatically that it might make the best trumpet player jealous of their balloony properties. Her well-sculpted brow furrows in the effort of it, and how much she needs to strain her otherwise delicate features adds a whole new facet to the 'I'm really starting to like this' battle. 

Meanwhile, an intense bubbling inside of you brings an additionally new facet to the battle of bulge assaulting the balloon-y void previously known as "your stomach." Your feel full and tight, fuller than you've EVER felt. But your insides seem willing to--QUITE literally--rise to the occasionally. You feel a gurgling percolation rumble through you, and you realize the air must have escaped from JUST your stomach. Your entire torso billows out, and you find yourself wondering for the first time if she ACTUALLY means to pop you. The renewed shiver down your spine is unexpected but by no means unpleasant. 

Your inflator giggles. "Woah there champ!" she teases as she has to readjust herself yet again to stay wrapped around you. "Don't blow all your spare room at once, hmm?"

Your gut and torso has billowed out far enough there's really no more room for her in your lap, but she seems practiced at this. She readjusts, so that she's practically laying on top of the expanse of your gut and torso as she hooks her heels under the chair arms. There's a long, distinct, CREEEEAK as she puts her weight on you, and you find yourself almost entirely lost to the situation. She purposefully squishes her breasts against your upper torso well within your restricted line of sight, and the combined feeling of her warm, soft body against yours sends fireworks tingling across your tightened, hyper-sensitive flesh. 

But she's not done, and--lost in the moment--your find yourself internally begging for more, yet you're still surprised when a pleased moan slips from your occupied throat. 

"Oh, ENJOYING it, are you?" she predictably teases, but you find yourself not minding. She leans forward to briefly, oh-so teasingly lick at the end of your nose before readying for another blow. "Buckle up, honey." 

She takes a huge breath, and blows bigger and harder than she has yet. You're shocked to feel your body swell in entirely new directions; your gut and torso still expand, but only modestly compared to your ass and limbs. Your upper arms and legs thicken, you find yourself finding that this chair now feels QUITE small; restraining, even. Your pants tighten...well, for much more than one reason, but in this instance because the billowing thickness of your ass and thighs threatens to shred your steady jeans. 

"Tired, Marcie?" a girl from the peanut gallery calls. 

Through the foggy haze of this all, you belatedly realize your captor--Marcie?--is in fact breathing hard, out of breath from the strain of blowing you up. She smirks, meeting you right in the eyes as she gets an especially predatory look. But she then throws her voice to the peanut gallery, rising to the challenge. "What do you think, girls? Think he can handle three more big puffs?" 

"Yeah!" the squeaky, confident one says. 

"No WAY," says the skeptical one.

"Well, maybe," intones an entirely new voice, contemplative. 

She addresses you again. "Two of three, more or less. Not bad." She strokes your cheek, that now familiar predatory tone coming back. "Let's find out, hmm?" 

And with that, she wastes no time in placing her mouth back around the tube. She seems to have taken the previous call as an honest challenge; this starts to feel like a battle of wills, except it's her lungs against your billowing body. 

She takes a huge breath, her chest expanding and boobs even bouncing a bit with the effort of it. She blows into the tube like her life depends on it, and you're startled--but not displeased--to feel what a dramatic effect and single immense lung-full can do to you body. You billow and balloon in all directions. The seams of your pants rip wide open, and you feel your waist press hard against each constraining arm of the chair. The swelling leaks to your lower arms and legs, and you can feel your constraints biting against your expanding flesh. 

Marcie is forced to lay fully on top of you, else she can't reach the tube at all. Your ballooned gut has thrust well past your knees, and your chest has billowed out enough that she has plenty of room to lay on top of you, despite you still being in the chair. 

Your body is making the most astounding creaks and moans; even the slightest movement from Marcie sends a torrent of fireworks flashing over your hyper-sensitized, hyper-stretched flesh. 

Marcie is having to work...and HARD. Her ragged, sultry breath sounds like she just run a mile. But she's determined to be the victor over the confines of your body. 

Another huge breath, another huge blow. Two down, one to go. Her cheeks themselves form miniature balloons, shiny and immensely stretched by how much force it takes to put ANY more air in your intensely overfilled body. 

You body gives every sign that it's on the brink of what it can. The tightness of a drum has NOTHING on you. What little you can see of your own body is stretched, shiny, and almost slightly blue from the transluscence of it. You feel what seems like tiny earthquakes throughout your entire body, as you body and flesh pulses with effort to contain your immensity. 

You're convinced there's no room left. But she blows, and blows hard. She's not giving up. You couldn't imagine being ANY fuller, ANY tighter, but it somehow manages to happen anyway. Your body only modestly swells despite the increased pressure. The creaking intensifies. The ethereal earthquakes intensify. And most importantly of all, your PLEASURE reaches heights you had no idea were even possible. 

Two down, one to go. Even if Marcie stopped now, you're not sure your body wouldn't blow from the barely contained pressure in an hour or two anyway. You know you're a goner...that there's no getting out of this, no escape. So you see no reason not to just accept it. You're caught in ecstacy as it is; and though you know the thought is insane, you want to find out what that feeling is right at the brink, the moment just before...before...

Explosion. Marcie is immensely winded, but she sees victory in sight. The girls cheer her on, though they feel and sound far away to you now. You're intoxicated by this, and you close your eyes and drink in the insane sensations as Marcie does the final blow. 

Your body billows in all directions again, and you know a critical threshold has been crossed. There's no turning back, no getting away. The pressure squeezes you in every direction; it's an intensely odd, and invigorating feeling to both feel like you're being crushed even though your body is billowing in any and all directions. You're a human balloon, inflated to the point of bursting. 

A resevoire breaks inside of you, and for a split second, you feel the purest ecstacy of anything you can ever imagine. You can feel that critical mass breaking, and feel one last burst of expanding intensity before...

BOOM.