I'm about to EXPLODE! What did you DO??

I giggle nervously as we check in with the AirBnB owner, who gives us the keys to this lovely log cabin up in the north. These last six months have been a whirlwind; I never though I'd meet someone with the same kink who I'd also click so well with.

This evening is it...what we've both been wanting almost from the beginning. And what I hold in my purse holds the key to it.

A bottle of pills. But not ANY pills: so-called Inflatra pills. They were hard to learn about, and even harder to actually get. But my Google-fu is sharp, and it wasn't really so hard to figure out how to navigate the dark web.

As we get into to the cabin and set up the cameras, I put the bottle on the breakfast bar area. It's a cheerful little bottle, with it's official name of "DEFLATRA" in big but girly letters, atop a picture of a woman with a perfectly flat belly. But the fine print is what we're both interested in, and what earned it its new name:

WARNING. SIDE EFFECTS MIGHT INCLUDE:
Gas, bloating, distention of the abdomen, swelling of hands, legs, or feet, enlarged or sensitive breasts, feelings of pressure, and stretchmarks.

Ironically, it was developed to relieve gas. Needless to say, it failed, and hasn't been sold retail.

We excitedly chat and play all day, rowing on the lake and taking several hikes until dinner time. Unsurprisingly, by dinner time, we can barely think or talk about anything except what we plan. You cooked dinner, and we've both sat down to eat. I eagerly shovel the food in my mouth, hungry from all we did today.

"I fink," I say around a mouthful of mashed potatoes, because I'm a lady like that, "Fat I'll at least 'ook pregnant."

You laugh, and I notice you're looking at me more intently than usual. You eye me up and down. "I think you'll look like a gorgeous hourglass, a goddess of big thighs and mountainous boobs."

I giggle back, still piling into my food. "Well, aren't you feeling poetic?"

I'm over half-way through my plate with a feel a large grumble in the bottom of my belly. I pause, and don't think much about it until I feel a second one only a few seconds later. "Woah, that feels...weird," I comment, putting down my fork to put a hand over my belly.

I look up at you, and you look absolutely delighted, obviously expecting this. Grinning begin that I've ever seen, you hold up the bottle and shake it. No rattling. Empty.

"Oh, you scamp!" I say, but I'm secretly delighted. "You cooked it into dinner?!"

"Yep!" you reply, clearly pleased. "I thought it'd be more fun as a surprise."

I rub my belly. "Well...I don't disgree, really! Ohh..." I place both hands on my belly, feeling pressure begin to grow with each curning gurgle of my belly.

"So weird," I repeat.

"But good?" you press.

I nod, growing breathless. "C'mere."

You quickly shift seats, sitting in the chair next to me instead of across from me. I grab your hand, lift my shirt, and press it against the still-soft skin of my belly. "Feel."

You stay silent for a couple beats as you feel the gurgling churning inside of me. "Woah...what does that feel like?"

I moan again before I can reply, and my belly bows out modestly under you hand. "K-kind of like..." I try to think of the best comparison. "Popcorn belly popped in my belly, filling it up."

My whole body starts to feel tingly, and a tightening of my bra makes me realize my boobs are swelling out too. "I can't b-believe this is working!"

"Me either," you admit, awe-struck. "Here, stand up," you invite, taking my hand and tugging.

I oblige, as my belly forms a more obvious curve, and my breasts gently squish around the confines of my bra. My center of gravity is already changing, so you have to put a hand on the small of my back to keep me balanced. I rub my belly with both hands, amazed at the sensations. "W-why?" I stammer with breathlessness.

"So I can you admire you," you explain, taking your hand off the small of my back so you can admire me from several sides.

My posture shifts, rapibly becoming that of a pregnant woman: one hand on my back, one on my belly, and concentrating to stay balanced. My belly has begun to become truly round, now, and my breasts squish hard againt my too-small bra The fabric of my pants rides down, and I know my butt must be getting bigger too.

"Well, I think we were both right," you intone. "You're bloating to look like an hourglass AND pregnant!"

I can't help but moan a bit with each breath. "D-do I look nice?" I squeak, a touch of insecurity entering my voice.

(TBC..!)

"Never again shall anyone laugh at Balloon Boy!" you bellow to the growing crowd.

But...I can't help it. Balloon Boy. That's an undeniably silly name, and I laugh loudly if voluntarily. But the laugh is cut short when I see you turn to look at me. Your eyes shoot venom.

You lower your voice, but me and everyone else can still hear you. "What did I just. Say."

I don't have time to respond. You throw out your hands, shooting out a blue aura.

I impulsively duck, and remain petrified for a good three seconds before I realize...I don't feel anything. Did you miss?

Then, just as suddenly, a sudden pressure explodes within my belly. With a startled cry, my flat belly erupts outward, sending the buttons of my shirt flying in all directions and my back arching against the sudden whiplash.

I gawk at my now pregnant sized belly. People scramble to get away from me.

You send a new blast of energy at me with each terse word. "No one."

BAM. My breasts rocket to a monumental size, with each melon-like boob bigger than my head.

"Will."

BAM. I barely manage to stay on my feet as my butt rips out of the confines of my jeans.

"Ever."

BAM. My whole body swells by several sizes, thickening my thighs and puffing out my arms.

"Laugh."

BAM. My skin creaks as yet more of your power engorges my poor, swollen body.

"At."

BAM. My huge belly and cantelope boobs surge more agressively outward, absorbing my thighs and upper arms and severely limiting my movement.

"Me."

BAM. My belly, butt, and boobs catapult every wider, to form an more singular, swollen orb.

"Again!"

BAM. Only massively swollen, compressed sausages form my arms and legs, half consumed by the monumental sphere of my belly.

Mot startling of all, however, I feel myself begin to float. As my feet rise a few inches off the ground, I kick helplessly. But there's nothing I can do.

"Now, aren't you a pretty balloon?" you taunt, watching with glee as I rise helplessly into the air like a released party balloon. As I rise into the air, I can see the shocked and horrified faces of all those around me.

Yet as I rise, thinner air forces taut skin to swell to even larger diameters. My skin gives a loud, rubbery creak, and I become little more than a helplessly swollen orb, every inch of me unthinkably stretched. The pressure within me swells to a breaking point.

I moan and wiggle, urging my body to stay in one piece. But it's no use! My breath hitches, but I manage to softly, desperately gasp, "T-too much! Oh, no no no..."

My body throbs and pulses. There's only seconds left. "Please!" I beg, though I'm not sure who: you, or the universe in general?

But I have no time to dwell. "I'm going to explode! I--uhhhhn--ohh, ohh, its happening!" 

As my body gives a final, monumental creak and my last moan turns into a startled yell...

I explode.

Yep, I can do that! Just give me some time, 'cause my interest in this comes and goes.