Clarissa's Uplifting Accident

Clarissa stared out the large window and into the vast starry expanse of space.

Bored. That’s how she felt. Bored.

She was traveling alone in her own spaceship. She was a successful entrepreneur, after all. Yet even with all the amenities afforded to her, she still got bored.

It would be another six or so hours before she would arrive at the station. She was by herself, age twenty-four, already flying her own spaceship for leisure, standing in a luxurious custom bedroom, larger and roomier than any other part of the ship, and still she was bored.

She reached for her phone (which got good reception out in the middle of nowhere) and called her best friend slash favorite contractor. “Clare! Clare!” A boisterous young woman responded, “How ya been?”

“Good enough. So Cynthia, you finished analyzing the data on my report yet?”

“Dude,” Cynthia said with concern, “It’s the middle of the night in my locale, and yer calling about work? Seriously girl! Did you not learn how to loosen up? I bet yer still dressed for an interview right now in that big ol’ ship of yours.”

“Not true,” Clarissa said. Even though she was in her white pantsuit, “I don’t have any shoes on.” She wasn’t lying; Clarissa did like to be barefoot when not doing anything important.

Cynthia sighed, “Yer gonna burn yerself out, Clare. You don’t need the data for another forty or so hours, right? Why not take it slow till then? At this rate, yer gonna end up on that documentary series that’s all about young geniuses that die of drug-fueled depression. I can see it now!”

“Thanks. I’ll consider it.”

The two made idle meaningless chatter then hung up. Clarissa had no interest in anything else to kill time. Reading books was boring (she had already read them cover to cover), as were video games (she already beat the classics). Not much left to do now except set the ship to autopilot and catch some Z’s.

Clarissa and Cynthia were opposites in many ways. Cynthia always wore bright baggy clothes, always dyed her hair multiple colors, painted all her nails different colors, piercings, tattoos, anything that would anger older generations. Clarissa on the other hand had no body modding, her natural dark brown hair always straightened and always reaching to just above the top of her shoulders, always dressed professionally, never got a tan for her fair skin, never wore trendy contacts to obscure her brown eyes. I can have fun, she thought, but first, sleep. Her eyelids were getting heavy.

She changed out of her white pantsuit and into her pink pajamas. Her uncovered hands and feet were freezing. Unlike Earth, there was no atmosphere to trap radiation out in space. She heaved a sigh and said aloud, “Raise the cabin temperature to a comfortable level.”

In seconds, she felt slightly warmer, but only slightly. Her fingers and toes were still cold. “Raise the temperature a little higher.” A moment later, and her feet were warm even when standing on the cold hull of the ship.

Okay, that was dealt with. Clarissa felt like doing last minute stretches before slipping into bed. She spread her legs and started rotating her torso. The movement got her blood flowing, spreading vitality throughout her body. Her calves started to burn in a good way, but her stomach also started to feel full, like she just drank an entire can of soda.

Strange; she continued her exercise, but the fullness of her belly did not subside. If anything, she only felt even more full. Not only that, her nipples started to feel sensitive, very sensitive. What was going on?

She stopped her exercise. That’s when she saw her bed. The bed itself looked the same as always, but Clarissa noticed she appeared to be moving. Her eye level went up ever so slowly, even though she was standing still. It was like she was very slowly standing onto the tip of her toes, even though her feet were flat on the ground.

Huh? What?

Clarissa looked down. That’s when she finally noticed; she had developed a stomach pout. A stomach pout that became more pronounced by the second. No, it wasn’t just growing outward; it was growing wider too! She put her hand on her stomach, which was incredibly smooth and taut to the touch. She poked as hard as she could; her tummy really was getting bigger, like she had sucked in a lot of air, even though she didn’t. She exhaled the biggest exhale she could muster. Her stomach didn’t retract; it only continued to grow. Wait, it wasn’t just her stomach; her bra and panties started to feel tighter, much much tighter. Same with her sleeves and her pant legs. That same ticklish sensation in her nipples was growing stronger, and she even started feeling an aroused fullness in her clitoris and labia.

No. NO.

Clarissa lifted her pajama top. Her flat belly was no longer flat; it was slowly but surely expanding out every which way. She rolled up one of her sleeves; her arms were growing thicker, like she was developing a lot of muscle sans sculpturing. She looked behind her and gasped; her butt was getting bigger, taller, and rounder. Her ankles were becoming chubbier, much like her arms.

“What the funky!” She exclaimed, “I’m blowing up like a balloon!”

Her face was incredibly flushed. She felt like she was in a sauna, even though she wasn’t. She saw her nipples, which were also expanding to keep up with her inflating breasts, poke through her pajamas, pajamas that no longer covered her expanding belly. She even saw her belly button, which was growing larger to match with her ever-expanding proportions.

“Lower the temperature! Now!” She ordered.

“Unable to comply. Error. Error.”

“What?” Her panties were cutting into her widening hips and thighs as she said this. She grimaced as the panties around her waist cut deeper and deeper, then relief. She couldn’t feel her panties anymore. Her vagina felt like it could breathe, breathe and grow not just with whatever was inflating her, but whatever was arousing her too.

Which led to her noticing her bra and straps were gnawing into her growing body. Her pajama top had become more like a bra, a pink sports bra covering what appearing to be double H cups, curious for someone that normally wore B cups.

Just then, the straps of her bra gave out. Rips began to appear at random on her sleeves from her burgeoning arms. The black lace that once made up her underwear was on the ground, though she could barely see that on account of the expanding mass of her legs.

Clarissa felt a tickle on her upper back. The tips of her hair were touching something soft behind her. She looked; her backside was inflating too, not just her enormous bubbly ass. Her shoulders, shoulder blades, and back were growing thicker and wider. Her neck disappeared into her growing arms and shoulders as evidenced by her chin feeling the warmth of expanded mass beneath it, yet she didn’t feel suffocated. Her back was incredibly sensitive to the touch of her hair, enough to turn her on further. All of a sudden, the pink covering her shoulders was gone. Her nipples were free, as was her back, now caressed by the air in the cabin.

She grimaced again. Her hips had a mind of their own, and they wanted to push against the static pink pajama bottom that somehow remained on her massive figure. Her ballooning legs were already tearing holes in the fabric of her pantlegs, legs so thick they were pushing against each other, forcing her to clumsily spread her legs as much as possible to avoid falling. Her wet genitals were feeling a burn they were not meant to, that of one-hundred percent cotton pajamas against a highly sensitive labia, then like with the ripped panties came freedom and relief. All her clothes had torn off. She became naked on account of inhabiting a still-growing body too big for the clothes she was wearing only a few minutes ago.

The computer said, “Analysis of current situation complete.”

Clarissa’s eyes widened, “You know what’s happening to me?”

“Alteration of cabin temperature triggered a rupture in the climate generator, causing an unidentified gas to replace the oxygen content. Cabin is currently filled with unidentified gas. This gas is lighter than hydrogen, breathable as oxygen, and stable as helium. As the discoverer, shall we name this Finley Particles, after your surname?”

“Breathable?” She asked with a neck cushioned by the mass of her shoulders, “Is that why you’re not sounding the alarm?”

“Correct.”

“But can’t you see how big I am?” Judging from her current eye level, Clarissa could no longer fit through the door into the rest of the ship.

The ship’s AI said, “Deactivation of life support will not put you in any danger. The Finley Particles will sustain you for the time being. Do you wish to take this action? Admin—"

“Yes!”

“Required.”

Clarissa felt vaginal fluid running down her enormous thighs, “Bee Beta Two Nine.”

“Error. Unable to deactivate.”

“What?” There was no way to stop whatever was happening to her? Is this how she was going to die? By expanding beyond the limit?

Clarissa saw a reflection on herself on the window. She noticed she wasn’t becoming completely rounded like a balloon, more like her body parts were inflating in their own independent way: her pert gravity-defying breasts were the size of beach balls, her belly appeared to be twenty months pregnant, her legs were smoothened tree trunks, her arms reminiscent of cylindrical pillows, her butt a concaving mound that required two sets of four chairs to fit, and her vagina fattened to fit much more than a newborn’s crown. Come to think of it, the hair on her head was still the same, still going down with the artificial gravity while her face cheeks had become distended, even when she breathed out.

How curious, Clarissa thought. Face cheeks aside, her head, hair, round face, hands, and feet were all still the same size. Her wrists had become swollen mounds whose circumference was much wider than the hands they supported, as did her ankles to her feet. So strange; her delicate petite hands and feet were still the same in spite of everything, as were her large eyes, modest lips, tiny nose and thin eyebrows. What of everything else? Her internal organs? Her skeleton? Her muscles? Were they all expanding too? Was she perhaps mutating in real time? Whatever was happening, it was making her develop a massive curvaceous body that didn’t stop expanding. Not to mention becoming taller as well; the doctor said she was five-foot-five at her last physical; judging by the size of the bedroom and the height of her belly and ass, she looked more like eight-five, and still growing as evidenced by her butt crack growing taller by the second.

What the? Her toes wiggled in the air. Her feet couldn’t feel the ground. She fell backward like she tripped, except her body didn’t hit the ground. One moment, she was looking at the ceiling, the next, everything was upside down as evident by her hair falling straight down, still affected by the artificial gravity…wait…no way! Now she was floating in the master bedroom! This was absurd; she had gained an unbelievable amount of mass, yet was lighter than anything else on the ship. She really was turning into a balloon! A balloon with a very womanly shape!

As her body rotated, Clarissa looked at her growing body again on the window reflection. She had no stretch marks anywhere, no flab. Whatever was inflating her, it was making her plush, tight, muscular but smooth, a well-fed well-maintained young feminine body. She thought she was…she was…beautiful? Would that even be the right word for this? She did think her butt looked the best it ever did, now that each cheek was wide enough from top to bottom to cushion a (normal-sized) adult. She didn’t mind her legs growing longer too, even if they were wider than her whole body was before this all started.

More lube ran down her legs. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt this turned on. Must be a side effects of the particles. The urge was so strong, she wanted to cum right now, impending death or not. Only problem was she literally couldn’t pleasure herself.

Her arms were wider than her head now. Not only had they grown wider, but stiffer too. She couldn’t move her arms anymore, not even bend her elbows. They had become so inflated, they could only be spread out in a mockery of a Christ pose. Her legs too had become too swollen for her to move anymore, knees included. She could still flap her hands and feet to no effect, though the feeling of her knuckles brushing against her gigantic wrists made her giggle from the ticklish sensation, if for only a moment.

Clarissa couldn’t even see much of herself now, since her swollen breasts, arms and shoulders had obscured every other part of her massive bloated figure. She could still feel her neck, which apparently didn’t expand, rather was surrounded by the mass of everything, yet still did not suffocate. Her belly was large enough to fit a normal-sized Clarissa, and it still didn’t stop expanding.

The height of the bedroom was eighteen feet, and the length and width were twenty-four feet. Judging by her current size, she had to be at least fifteen feet from head to toe alone. Her belly and legs began to push against the floor of the bedroom. Her right side, massive breast included, pushed against the window, along with the palm of her right hand, unable to move. How long would this continue? She could burst the window if she didn’t explode first.

Her butt felt the cold steel of the ceiling. This was followed by her bed collapsing underneath her belly. Her left side was pushing against the wall opposite the window. Her stiff swollen legs dangled down the sides of her enormous ass and belly, her feet pressed to the floor once again. Above all else, her genitalia was getting larger and more stimulated. It was hot, yet she wasn’t sweaty at all.

“I feel like I’m…I’m…”

Like she was going to explode? Like she was going to orgasm? Like she was going to transcend the very concept of existence?

Her heart pounded. She started cumming. Her mind forgot the situation. This orgasm was not only nonstop and incredibly gratifying, it was smooth. Smooth, effortless, painless. Her mind was aflutter as she discharged, feeling euphoric, grateful to be alive. As she orgasmed, she felt another urge to discharge, not from her vagina, but around that same area. No, it couldn’t…

A force shot out of her enlarged anus. It didn’t feel like a fart, more like the spray of a bidet going in reverse, but with invisible air instead of water. It didn’t sound like a standard fart either. It sounded like someone cut the tip of a balloon and it was shooting off into the distance, except she was the balloon, and the air was coming out of her massive bum.

Her body didn’t feel so pressed against the room anymore. Her hands stopped touching the wall and window. Her eye level went down. She breathed in and out rapidly; she was still cumming, but this air just wouldn’t stop.

She saw her breasts shrink before her very eyes. She landed on her belly, and her venting caused her to slide across the room on her padded belly, albeit very slowly. She hit the wall with her head, which felt more like a slight tap than anything painful.

Down and down she went. The orgasm stopped. She could see more than a curvaceous mound of alabaster skin on account of her body getting smaller. Eventually, the venting stopped. She caught her breath.

Clarissa stood on her lube-stained feet, facing away from the wall. She was still bigger than normal, but her body felt “manageable”. She wasn’t floating, and her arms were “only” the size of drain pipes. It felt good to move her arms and legs again, massive though they may be.

Her heart rate was still high. She still felt flushed in her cheeks and elsewhere. She breathed in deeply, slowly in through the nostrils, slowly out through the nostrils. In, out, in, out. Her chest didn’t move to the rhythm of her breathing. She placed her hand on her belly. It was expanding without her breathing. So were her arms. So was everything else. Again.

Wait. She could move again. She had to see what exactly was causing this gas to form. She dashed out of the room, thankful she was alone on the ship. Her legs were powerful, carrying her faster than expected.

The climate generator was in the engine room. Clarissa, naked and comically oversized at what she estimated to be six-foot-nine, made a beeline for the engine room. She ducked her head to get in, scraping her shoulders in the process.

The engine room was a complex series of machines few people could understand inside and out. Clarissa was by no means a mechanical genius, but she had to do something. She approached the climate generator. Sure enough, there was a tear on the base of the oxygenator.

She looked closely. Something about that was causing the oxygenator to create what the ship’s AI called Finley Particles. It was breathable like oxygen, but turned Clarissa into a giant fluffy balloon girl that apparently could only deflate with a lot of outside pressure, in her case, the hull of the ship. Spending the next six hours getting big and small would be inconvenient, to say the least, not to mention the potential embarrassment of a promising businesswoman being seen with tits that would make an exotic dancer blush with envy.

She could cover the tear with duct tape, but not too much. If she cut off the Finley Particles entirely, she would suffocate. For now, the best solution would be to slow down the rate to a point where she would still have to live with an inflating body, but one that didn’t morph so quickly.

She may not know a lot about mechanical work, but she knew math. She placed her hand on her thick belly. She counted seconds. She calculated exactly how much her body expanded, in both inches and centimeters. Based on that, if she covered about seventy percent of the tear, she might be able to arrive at the station without blowing up too much.

Only problem now is her head was already hitting the ceiling. Why was this room so small in comparison? Her cheeks were puffing out again.

She lied on her back. She wiggled toward the supply cabinet as best as her bloated body could. She arrived head-first at the cabinet. She had a hard time seeing since her shoulders and bust were starting to obscure her view again. She opened the cabinet and rifled through the knick-knacks blindly, rushing herself before her arms got too big to even reach in there. Ah ha! A sticky surface. She pulled the roll of duct tape out.

Clarissa, still unable to stand in the engine room because of its lower height, wiggled toward the oxygenator, still on her back since her belly inflated faster than anything else. Once she reached it, she tried to tear off a piece of duct tape. This proved impossible on account of her body now being too wide for both hands to come together.

No worries. She could still reach her mouth. She brought up her sizeable arm to the corner of her mouth, bit down, and pulled just enough tape to cover seventy percent of the cut on the oxygenator. She brought her left arm down. She didn’t bother to tear off the duct tape; just leave the whole roll here and plug it with the sticky side.

The only problem now was she was so big, she couldn’t move to the side. She could still wiggle up and down, but that was it; her sides were pressing against everything in the engine room. She could still get the tape on the cut. She had the momentum from the constant body expansion, so she just needed to reposition. She maneuvered so the cut was in front of her left hand. Her body pushed out in all directions, including her left. Just a few seconds more…there! Her inflating body got her hand to cover up most of the rip.

Clarissa heaved a sigh. Next problem? She was too big to get up, not to mention too big to exit the door. She didn’t feel the urge to fart out the (thankfully odorless) Finley Particles out just yet. Then again…what if? This entire situation did remind her of some old cartoons. What if?

She exhaled. She exhaled and exhaled, never pausing to inhale. If the math was correct, there should be fewer Finley Particles now. It felt strange exhaling for as long as she was.

Sure enough, her body began to shrink. Her massive tits with pointed nipples went back down to a more manageable size. Everything slowly but surely went back down to a more modest size. Her body wasn’t pushing up against anything anymore. Her butt didn’t feel so spacious. Her belly didn’t feel so full and sensitive. She could see her surroundings clearly again. Finally, she couldn’t exhale anymore. Her body was still larger than normal, but not like before.

She stood up and went back into her room. She put on her hand on her belly. Yep, still blowing up, but much more slowly now. It took about fifteen second to expand as much as she did for one second before the repair work.

Clarissa couldn’t sleep on the bed. She’d have to get a new one after accidentally breaking it. Then again, she didn’t need a bed. The Finley Particles were comforting enough, so long as she wasn’t pressed against anything.

She reached for the tablet. First thing she did was close the shutters for the large bedroom window. The scandal of a naked businesswoman floating in her cabin with expanded proportions could last for months, if not her entire life. Once secure from prying eyes, she opened up the artificial gravity control on her tablet. She lowered the gravity until she started floating up, toes wiggling freely in the air. She configured the AI to readjust the gravity anytime she was about to hit the ceiling. She released the tablet, watching it fall to the ground in slow motion. She closed her eyes. Her arms and legs became limp. Her lips curled into a gentle smile.

Clarissa didn’t feel aroused anymore. Her face and body didn’t feel flushed. With the window closed and the cabin temperature just right, she felt relaxed. The air caressed her massive body, her girth amplifying the sensation. The sensation was akin to a massage that reached into every crevice, even those she didn’t perceive before.

Why sleep on a bed? That was boring. Cynthia was wrong; Clarissa knew how to loosen up. For one night, she slept in zero-g space as the largest human being that ever lived. Arriving at the station and trying to convince port authorities not to enter until she could get some proper engineers to correct what was wrong with the oxygenator would be an issue, but her mind wasn’t occupied with that. In-between the best orgasm she ever had and the most relaxing sleep she had in years, new ideas came into her head, ideas of how to capitalize on these Finley Particles.