Over-Inflated Ego

I'm a college guy working at a local flower shop close to home. It's a part-time job that I enjoy, despite having some of my friends ridicule me for it. My usual response is to remind them of the gorgeous middle-aged women who sometimes come into the shop and are pleasantly surprised to see me behind the counter. I've even gotten a few numbers and date offers!

Today though, I hear the rapid clanking of high-end stiletto heels rush into the shop. The woman adorning them is about 5'5" with dark brown hair tightly tied into a ponytail. Her eyes are a piercing, crystalline blue. She's dressed to the nines in what looks like a designer navy blue jumpsuit that barely covers her gargantuan cleavage, with a white belt secured well enough to accentuate the wideness of her hips.

She urgently snags a bundle of mixed flowers and carelessly throws them onto the counter. Without even turning to face me, she orders, "Give me a full bouquet arrangement and ten colored balloons!"

Though I'm surprised at her conduct, I just shrug my shoulders and get to work. I remove the bundle from its packaging and start laying out cellophane, tissue paper and ribbon to make the arrangement. I watch her scramble to find a card, so I decide to ask her, "Is there anything else I can help you out with, ma'am?"

Stopping dead in her tracks, she turns to look at me. She gives me the 'up-and-down', but not in a seductive way. I can see and feel seering judgement from her thorough examination of me. After what feels like an eternity, she simply says, "Oh..."

"...Oh, what?" I ask, baffled.

"I didn't realize there was a, uh-... man working here." She states as she continues to grill me visually.

Taken aback, I reply, "Is there something wrong with that?"

She hustles over to the front of the counter to face me directly, "It's just that, well... today is my little girl's birthday, and I need to get everything ready PRONTO. I don't want that to be screwed up by-..."

"A man in a flower shop?" I finish her sentence with a raised eyebrow.

With a hand on her hip and her head tilted to one side, she says, "Honestly, yeah. I always see the female manager here who does everything I need very quickly. I need this done the right way, right now!"

I've never had someone outright question my abilities at this job. This qualifies as sexism, right? Whatever, I take a deep, silent breath and reassure her, "Ma'am, don't worry. I've got you covered. Would you like to sign that card in your hand while I work on your arrangement?"

With her eyes narrowed in apparent skepticism, she says, "Alright, but I expect nothing but the best."

I hand her a pen and continue to place the flowers along the new materials. I work quickly but efficiently, as I always do. Within two minutes, she abruptly sets the pen down and screeches, "No, no, no! Not like that! Here, let me arrange it how I want."

Unbelievable. I hardly even started. Gritting my teeth for the sake of keeping my job, I reply, "Whatever you prefer, ma'am."

I head over to the helium tank and open a pack of colored balloons. These packs have one of each major color. I place the mouth of the red balloon over the nozzle, watching it slowly inflate until it's a large enough size. Next is the blue one, gradually inflating.

Meanwhile, I hear this high-maintenance broad rambling to herself, "I really need to speak to her about this. What made her think a man could do this job properly?! Now I'm reduced to having to do it myself, maybe I should get paid instead!"

Despite the helium reaching a higher pitch, the balloon continues to inflate while I'm distracted by this woman's blatant insults towards me. I work in an upscale neighborhood, but this is just too much. I get caught up in my thoughts when suddenly:

BAAAANG!

Shattered remnants of the blue balloon fall to the floor. The noise caused the woman to jump. Once again, she's bossing me around, "Hey! Get over here." She points to the space in front of her.

"Ma'am, I apologize. It's just-"

"Do you even know who I am?! I'm the wife of George Fielding, CEO of this flower shop chain! I've never seen such incompetence from an employee. I'm going to have you written up!"

My heart stops when she tells me her identity. I've met George before, and he's actually a friendly guy. It's hard to believe this erratic and disrespectful woman is his wife, and that he breeded with her! She must be his trophy wife.

I become paralyzed in fear, realizing that I could very well lose my job because of her. She continues to be histrionic and borderline yelling at me in the shop. Looking down at the ground, I see the consequences of my distraction: the blue balloon's demise. I glance back up to see just how perfectly the color matches her jumpsuit.

I'm having a eureka moment, and want to seize it!

She continues, "I told you it's my little girl's birthday, and now she won't get to have every color of balloon for her party! You've managed to ruin EVERYTHING!"

Standing casually beside the helium tank, I pull out the hose and say, "I think I have a solution."

Walking towards her with the helium set to medium capacity, she opens her big mouth again and says, "Wait, what are you talking ab-..."

Without warning, I shove the nozzle of the hose into her mouth. Her lips purse almost naturally around it, and the helium quickly blows up her cheeks.

She widens her eyes in disbelief, "Hmmmmph?!"

I smirk as I witness the effects of the helium on this woman's voluptuous body. Her lower stomach, hips, thighs and ass are ballooning at an alarming rate, constraining her white belt. The loose creases of her jumpsuit gradually become smoother as her parts grow rounder.

I make eye contact with her and nonchalantly explain myself, "Well ma'am, I wouldn't want to disappoint a little girl on her birthday... even if her mother is an annoying bitch. The blue balloon may have exploded, but you'll just be a new balloon for her. I'll even offer to bring you to the party myself!"

"Mmmmmpph, mmmwwwwmmm!!" She protestes, but to no avail. Her massive breasts expand beneath the suit, pulling the fabric tightly over two bulbous mounds of flesh. She has no choice but to spread out her arms and legs to accommodate the growth.

With a loud 'FWUMP!', the belt pops off and the hard buckle winds up hitting me in the leg.

"Just for that, I'm going to pump up the volume!" I shout at her.

She shakes her head 'no' erratically, "Mmmmfff, mmmmpppphhhh!"

Not acknowledging her at all, I crank the pressure up higher. I look over to see her stomach appearing as if she's twenty months pregnant.

"You know, there's something so satisfying about watching a woman blow up to the size of her overinflated ego. It's poetic, really." I say with a soft chuckle.

Her moans are less dramatic now. Instead, they're deeper and shorter. All I can hear from her now is a series of sounds like: "Mmww... wwmm..." She's far too pumped up to vocalize as much as before.

"I knew this would shut you up." I say.

Slowly, I notice her heels are no longer on the ground. She's beginning to float!

Her jumpsuit barely clinging onto her bloated blimp of a body, her feet and shoes look like mere stubs. She looks as though her body parts were made entirely of marshmellow.

As she floats (and bloats) higher, the hose wedged in her mouth is the only thing connecting her to the ground. She makes Violet Beauregarde from the original Willy Wonka seem tiny.

She looks down at me with pleading eyes, continuing to moan between major pumps.

"Oh, don't worry babe. I won't be popping you. I want to see the look on your husband and daughter's faces when they see you!" I laugh hysterially.

As if he read my mind, a visibly older man of about fifty-five walks into the shop.

"Honey, are you here? It's George. The party's in just a few short hours. We need to-"

He sees the hose and looks up towards the high ceiling. Connected at the other end is a woman-shaped blimp with straining blue cloth covering up the naughtiest parts.

"What the hell is-" George starts.

I place my hand on his back, knowing I'm most likely going to get fired by not caring anymore, "Hey George. Listen, your wife came in and was treating me like dirt under her feet. I burst a blue balloon accidentally and she screamed at me in the shop. I know she's your wife, but I don't think it sets a good example for your daughter. Your daughter should have a great birthday, while your wife learns a lesson in respect - so she's the new blue balloon."

Utterly amazed, he looks back up at his blimp of a wife and says, "That humanoid balloon up there is my wife?!"

"It sure is." I reply with a gleeful smile.

Not knowing how he'll react, I anticipate the worst. Instead, I hear booming laughter coming from him. He grabs me to hug me and says, "Kid, you sure did a number on her! All she ever does is complain!" He's nearly in tears. So am I, realizing that I inadvertently did something that impressed the CEO.

He shouts up at his wife, "It's a good look for you, honey! It's almost like when you were pregnant, you just blew the hell up! This is better though, since you can't say anything."

She's continued inflating this entire time, and we suddenly hear three strange 'pops': two were her nipples protruding from under the jumpsuit, the other from her belly button. This caused George to laugh even more hysterically than before.

"My daughter will get a kick out of this, for sure!" George pulls his wife by the hose back down towards him. He takes a cork from one of the glass bottles we sell and pops that into her mouth, containing the massive amounts of helium inside of her. He also ties a few tight ribbons around her swollen ankle, making her look like a circus balloon made by a demented clown.

He turns to me and says, "Kid, I've been dealing with her shit for years. Not only did you do the right thing, it's creative! I'm promoting you to Shop Manager, but listen - I've got to get this big ol' balloon over to my daughter's party. See you Monday?"

Still shocked, I reply, "Y-yeah! See you then, George!"

I wave goodbye and I watch a grown man merrily hold the ribbon of a woman-shaped balloon.