Room Service

Inflation Types:
Sexual Content:
Date Written: 

The hotel room door swung open and Elise strode silently in, her neatly-tied hair swishing behind her as she pushed a small cart over the threshold. A soft click sounded at the closing of the door and she glanced quickly around the room before sighing, dropping her perfect posture into an easy slouch. The cart concealed her equipment and the stolen maid outfit made her practically invisible as she moved, but she was glad not to put either of them to the test. All of the guests were out and about at this hour, it seemed. All except one.

She turned her attention to the bed where the room's sole occupant lay fast asleep, sprawled on top of the fluffy covers in the midday heat. Abby, the star center forward, her pristine white jersey emblazoned with a bold, black 17 to match her shorts and knee-length socks. Freckles adorned her face, her deep red hair swept along the curve of her body in the memory of a ponytail.

The information was correct, then. A single bed for a singular talent, held back from practice lest anything happen to her. Elise smiled at the irony of it. She didn't need to be told twice what an opportunity she had to fulfill her obligation as her own team's "lucky charm." And now, with the threat of prying eyes decidedly behind her, she was practically bouncing with giddiness to get started.
To that end she knelt down beside the cart and slid the bottom compartment open, revealing a compact metal cylinder and a coil of red rubber hose, which she withdrew carefully and set on the carpet at the foot of the bed. One end of the hose she fastened onto the cylinder. The other she popped into her mouth, sucking on it with relish and imagining the depths of the reservoir ready to burst forth at her command.
She straightened up and moved to the head of the bed. With gloved fingers she unplugged the hotel landline and scooped Abby's phone off the nightstand, dropping it into her pocket. From another pocket she drew out her own phone and walked back to set it on the tv stand, propping it up so the camera peeked out behind a stack of books. A burner, of course, untraceable, but carefully set up to record it all. Through the magic of streaming, she wasn't going to miss a second.
Smiling, she turned back around and leaned in over the sleeping girl. Abby was completely oblivious, still and silent, her breathing a shallow rhythm. A sight so peaceful and endearing that Elise couldn't help reaching out and sweeping of wisp of stray hair gently away from her face. Just as tenderly, she slipped the hose from her mouth and threaded it, slick and warm, up the leg of Abby's shorts. She guided it carefully until Abby's breathing suddenly caught and then slowly released. The sleeping girl squirmed and sighed, wiggling her hips and then settling back into her slumber.
Elise waited a couple seconds while Abby journeyed back to dreamland and walked back around to the cylinder at the foot of the bed. Watching her mark carefully, she gripped the valve and opened it just a crack, and then a little more. Abby made no response. Elise twisted the knob further, increasing the flow as much as she dared. A barely-audible hiss sounded, building slowly to the volume of a harsh whisper. Another daring half-turn and Abby finally stirred, rubbing her thighs together and squeezing the hose between them before settling onto her back, legs sprawled, a trace of a smile on her face and a pinkness rising in her freckled cheeks.
The pretend maid stood watching for a good ten seconds before tearing herself away, grinning. Abby's stomach was rising already, a tiny bulge pushing up among the wrinkles of her jersey. All there was left was to retreat to a safe distance where she could watch it all unfold. Which—she took another long gaze at the sleeping girl—she'd better get to quickly. She winked at the tiny light on her clandestine camera, then blew Abby a kiss and pushed the cart silently out the door.
Abby slept on, oblivious to the slow plumping, the steady filling, of her own body. The bulge in her stomach continued to blossom and grow like a soccer ball being pumped up inside her. A mountain rising among wrinkled foothills. Gradually it spread, not just upward but outward as well, smoothing her jersey as it crept out until the whole of her body from her breasts to her hips was one gentle curve. She yawned and sent one hand down to the hem of her jersey, which was riding up her growing stomach, separating from the waistband of her shorts and leaving a widening stripe of bare skin between them. She gave it a little tug, which did nothing to close the gap, and then lay still again, hand resting on her abdomen and color rising in her cheeks, legs twitching occasionally at the stream rushing in between them.
Bigger and bigger she swelled, expanding at a steady pace. Her stomach reached full soccer ball size and kept on going, making no pause to respect the landmark it had passed. The rushing air continued to gain new territory, spreading out to her thighs and plumping out her butt in her now too-small shorts. Her breasts lifted and separated, engorging with air and starting on the path from well-shaped molehills to glorious mountains. Her breath came heavier now, catching and then rushing out in quivering bursts. The hand still resting on her belly remained stationary as the growth of her body slid the hem of her jersey beneath her fingers, and then taut skin. She looked beyond pregnant not just in size but the way her pneumatic bulk was distributed, her arms and legs growing thick, stomach like an exercise ball and breasts the size of cantaloupes. She began to pant, rolling her hips, skimming just under the surface of wakefulness, rolling her head back and forth as her cheeks went redder until finally,
"Unghhh. Oooh!"
Abby woke with a sharp moan then smiled and closed her eyes and sank back into her pillow. Her dream had been so pleasurably warm and, well, pleasurable, that she hadn't wanted to wake from it. She hugged herself, arms barely stretching around, as that notion drifted sluggishly towards the surface beneath the thick fog of slumber.
She cracked open an eye, the fog burning rapidly away. The sensations were too sharp, the details too fine. It wasn't a dream, she realized with a jolt. She really was stuck on the end of a hose that—somehow—was blowing her up like a balloon. Had already blown her up. Her belly was curving out farther than she thought possible, and tapping her fingers against herself produced an odd, echoing feeling and a faint, hollow note. How long had she been lying there with the hose stuck between her legs, pumping air into her until she grew taut and round with it, hissing and vibrating deep inside her-
She blushed and squealed and clenched at the thought, cheeks going hot with shame and burning even hotter as she recognized the eagerness underlying it. The feeling of it was uniquely enthralling, like nothing else she'd ever felt. There was so much of her, and every inch was being massaged from within by the roiling pressure inside her. Especially down below, where the hose swelled out and she swelled in, slick rubber and sensitive flesh locking together in the most delightful kiss...
She moaned and squeezed herself, displacing the air inside her body so that her thighs bulged and her breasts swelled magnificently, pulling the front of her jersey taut and then ripping their way suddenly to freedom. With a gasp of dizzy delight and relief she squeezed herself again, harder, flexing her thighs until her shorts tore open, her panties hanging on a second longer before popping free with a soft snap.
With that she lay back and closed her eyes again, losing herself in her unfettered expansion. Just her bare skin against the air, not just able but desperate to take in everything the hose had to offer. She stretched out further and further under the rising pressure, slowly enough to savor every inch of growth, yet swiftly enough that her vast expanse was never quite the same from one moment to the next. Her thighs began to splay as she relaxed, her arms straightening out to her sides, nudged by their growing internal pressure as if invisible ropes were fastened around her and tugging slowly toward the corners of the bed.
Abby sighed deeply and settled in, wriggling deeper into the depths of the fluffy covers. The hose shifted subtly inside her as she moved until she gave a sudden loud gasp, eyes shooting open, back arching and legs quivering as the thrumming rubber nestled in right beneath her puffed-up clit. She spasmed again and it remained where it was, gripped tight by her swollen, sensitive nethers. She moaned and squirmed, sliding the soles of her socks over the covers as if to scurry away from it, but there was no escaping the hose stuck deep inside her. It gushed relentlessly, delightfully, right into the spot of her greatest weakness, carrying her to the brink of climax and then hurling her over the edge. She tried and failed to suppress a gleeful cry at the eruption of sensation, toes clenching and fingers digging into the covers as she held on desperately against the thrill that rose so powerfully within her she thought she might explode from the pleasure itself. Gasping and giggling she lay back in surrender as the hose did its work, vibrating between her legs, injecting more and more compressed air into her as she thrashed helplessly, unable to do anything but let it pump her up until she was throbbing with the strain of holding it all in.
Tiny tremors flitted through her body as the acuteness of her glee drained gradually away. Deep-seated groans sounded with every twitch she made, and then as she made no movement at all. She felt so ripe, so ready to burst that she couldn't help but imagine herself pumped to her quaking limit and then slowly, inevitably, creeping past the point of no return. A fantasy she found less and less enthralling as it crept closer and closer to reality, the pressure building beneath her skin more threat than tease. She blinked suddenly, as if startled, and then gazed down at herself. The sight that greeted her was shocking—she'd tripled in size at least since she'd awoken, the summit of her stomach halfway to the ceiling, her arms and legs still jutting distinctly from the main mass of her body but growing stiffer and rounder by the minute. She was stuffed so tightly that it was becoming difficult to even move, but the pressurized jet was relentless, pushing in fresh as ever no matter how tense her skin became, how hard her body fought against it, how ominously she creaked as she stretched to contain it all.
There was no question about it. She had to get the hose out before she became completely immobile or worse. Dire as the thought was, she couldn't deny the edge of rebellious satisfaction that came with it. The defiant thrill of being only just in time to save herself from the siren song of her own ecstasy. Of course, there remained the small obstacle of actually getting the hose out, and the vast expanse of her body combined with the stiffness of her arms made the hose seem about as easy to wrap her fingers around as the far side of the moon. So she fumbled for it with her feet instead, finding it by touch and pinching it messily between them to give as good a pull as she could manage. It stayed stuck fast inside her. Swallowing an uneasiness that rose like her ever-filling stomach, she tried again, clamping her feet solidly around the hose and tugging sharply, but her clenched nethers refused to give it up. With an edge of desperation she curled her toes in instead, choking the hose between them until the flow began to taper and then died away entirely.
It was a partial victory, but Abby let off a heartfelt sigh of relief. The thrumming was gone, the pressure still there but no longer rising. She gathered her strength and gave the hose another tug, but even squeezing hard enough to pinch the flow off, she couldn't generate enough traction through her slick socks to pull it free. Worse, she could feel the air beginning to back up against her toes, bubbling out against her block in a bulge she couldn't see over the curve of her body but which felt about the size of a softball and growing swiftly.
Panting, she closed her eyes, trying to think through the situation as seconds measured themselves in inches added to the bulge pressing against her feet. Already it seemed big enough that letting go simply wasn't an option—if she let her hold slip, it would all come gushing through at once, and she didn't trust her creaking body to withstand the shock of it. But she didn't dare try another push against it, lest her socks slip around the smooth rubber and let it all in that way. There was only one option left to her; reluctantly she reached for her phone, preemptive embarrassment stewing as she formulated her call for help, but much preferring the notion of explaining over exploding.
It wasn't there.
She turned her head and swept the nightstand frantically, to no avail. Where had she put it, anyway? The bulge continued to bloom against her toes as she considered the situation, pushing her clamped feet slowly back toward herself as it crept steadily forward. With a great effort she stretched her arm out to the landline instead, but the clumsy motion of her puffed-up fingers succeeded only in batting it over the edge, where it tumbled freely to the floor with a sharp clatter.
Panic seized her. How much air had poured into the bulge by now? A minute's worth? Two? And how much longer could she have let it all flow into her before she burst? That wasn't a question she was willing to explore. She searched the barren nightstand uselessly again as sweat rose on her temples and her legs began to quiver, losing ground to the advancing swell, shuddering with effort rather than exhilaration now. She couldn't hold it back much longer.
Abby gave a last desperate heave, pushing with all her might against a bulge that had grown to the size of a watermelon. She held her ground and then, miraculously, began to push forward. The hose began to slide slowly out of her, tickling deep inside as it went.

Her knees went weak at the sensation. Her legs buckled, toes slipping apart a fraction of an inch. A tiny jet of air hissed through her block. The first syllable of a laugh rang out as her strength left her entirely and the rest of the bulge shot through, sinking home between her legs and detonating like a torpedo inside her. Abby's eyes widened as the wave of pressure slammed out in all directions, her body briefly pulsing outward before her tight-stretched skin gave way and she exploded with a blast that rolled through the surrounding streets, buildings—and soccer fields—like thunder.

Average: 4.7 (39 votes)
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Nice work!

Nice work!

CharlesBarkley's picture
Thumbs Up

some quality there bud