Girl Code

Inflation Types:
Popping:
Sexual Content:
Date Written: 
09/23/2022

Not now, goddamnit! Please, just five more minutes!

Of course, Janet had learned by now that there was no negotiating with the Monthly Curse. It happened when it happened, heedless of how it upended her life, and nothing on this Earth would push it back for even a second. But this was her first time leading the weekly sales review meeting, and she'd really been hoping to make a good impression with the board. She'd even managed to get it rescheduled to first thing in the morning, just to buy herself a few more hours by putting the meeting as early in the "danger zone" as she could. But just as she was starting to wrap up, the all-too-familiar pressure in her abdomen let her know that her plans were for naught. There was no way she'd be able to finish before the signs would be visible to all, so she just excused herself as discreetly as she could manage and made her way outside to get herself under control.

The back exit was all the way at the far end of the cubicle farm, and Janet had to walk slowly to not draw attention to herself. By now, her lips and cheeks would be swelling up, and anyone who looked wouldn't have trouble guessing what was going on. Alas, just about everyone she passed glanced up at her. The guys mostly looked confused at first, then had the good grace to turn back to their business when they realized the state Janet was in. Some of the women gave her sympathetic looks, but others radiated scorn and contempt. Like I'm imitating a pufferfish just to be a drama queen. Girls could be so awful when they thought they had an advantage over you. Finally she made it to the door and slipped outside with what remained of her dignity.

And much to her chagrin, she still wasn't alone. Her back was to Janet, but judging by her ponytail, and the fact that she was wearing jeans at a company that didn't have casual Fridays, this must be one of the college interns. She could probably handle dealing with her condition in front of a colleague, but to have her defective body on display for a girl no older than her niece?! But then she saw that those jeans were clinging tighter to her generous curves than the raciest leather pants, and how the tautness of her shirt threw into sharp relief the deep grooves her bra was digging into her back. And when Intern swiveled around in surprise, Janet's heart softened as she regarded a face as swollen as her own -- this girl had a Curse of her own to deal with.

But she wasn't dealing with it very well, judging by the rookie mistakes on display. Janet was fortunate enough to have most of the month as a safe zone, but on danger days she stuck with yoga pants, pleated skirts, and other expansion-friendly fabrics. Her burgeoning breasts were comfortably contained in an oversized sports bra, not constricted in some underwired push-up torture device. And as Intern struggled against her denim-swaddled legs to pivot around, Janet saw that she'd managed to get her thumbs caught between her waistband and her swelling belly. Even as a teenager, I knew better than to entrap myself like that! Her expression must have given her thoughts away, because the girl's face betrayed a mixture of embarrassment and desperation, like she wanted to simultaneously run for help and hide under a rock, if her body would only let her move to do the former or fit under the latter. Intern's lips were too swollen to speak, but her expression said everything Janet needed to know.

I've got my own situation to worry about. It's her own fault if she's stuck on the spot until she bursts out of her clothes. Ending up naked as a jaybird and round as a beach ball will teach her a lesson that she needs to learn, for her own sake. It all made perfect, logical sense in her head. And yet... in Intern's eyes, Janet saw the same fear and confusion she'd felt, when her Curse made its surprise debut during high school gym class. They could've helped me... but they just pointed and laughed as I bobbed in the pool like a discarded inflatable toy. So heedless of her own worsening condition, she stepped forward to help this girl with hers.

The first thing to do was to stop her from suffocating under her own bosom. Her shirt had already burst most of its buttons, revealing an expensive-looking black lace bra. Intern must have blown an entire paycheck on it, and loved how sexy and confident it made her feel. Well, consider this a lesson learned about wearing nice things without a quick-release cord. The girl flinched and tried to pull away as Janet retrieved a penknife from her purse, to the older woman's annoyance. I'm not going to pop you, you little twit. Finally she settled down, and after some brief sawing, Intern's chest burst free, the relief in her eyes mingling with a brief pang of loss.

Now to get you out of those pants... God, that sounds like something you'd hear from one of your frat boy classmates. It was too dangerous to use the knife that close to her skin, so Janet was reduced to slowly working down the zipper of her fly. She soon discovered that Intern's bra was part of a matching set, and knew that the other half was about to join its sister in Unmentionable Heaven. Sure enough, once free of the constricting denim, the girl let out a muffled squeal of alarm as her billowing hips and ass swiftly tore the delicate fabric to shreds.

And then it was Janet's turn to give a muffled squeal -- of surprise, as the unfortunate being in front of her started to rise into the air! Who would've thought she was a floater?! Janet had some "skyward tendencies" of her own, and sometimes she had to be careful about high winds or running up stairs, but she'd always been able to keep her feet on the ground. Even so, the weights discreetly sewn into the hem of her skirt were a constant source of reassurance. She caught Intern around the waist, nearly being pulled off her feet herself as she fought the girl's momentum. With her ear pressed to her bloated abdomen, Janet could hear the gentle gurgling of gas being generated, which, by the sound of things, wasn't even slowing down.

This is getting out of hand... to hell with her modesty, I've got to get her inside before I lose my grip on her. But so caught up was Janet in managing her comrade's condition that she'd been neglecting her own. Dress code for employees at her level was business formal, no exceptions, and Janet's skirt suit had discreet stretch panels deployed to strategic locations to accommodate her body's demands. But they were stretching to their limit, and stitches were starting to pop in her blouse. And of more pressing concern, her pencil skirt was hobbling her thickening thighs, slowing her down as she shuffled towards the door. Intern's tumescent curves were growing firmer and less yielding, her skin slicking with sweat, and she shifted upwards in Janet's grasp, putting them on more intimate terms than she ever wanted to be with a coworker. Janet redoubled her grip on her slippery charge as she sidled the last few inches towards the door.

And she was a mere inch from the handle when her feet left the pavement.

No... no, NO! But no amount of denial would change the fact that what little weight she had left could no longer counter Intern's burgeoning buoyancy. Janet had known this would happen someday, but nothing had prepared her for the sight of the ground receding beneath her. Or her blouse and bra finally giving up the ghost. Or floating up past the IT support department and giving a room full of neckbeards an eyeful of their bare, ballooned bodies. One of them grabbed for his phone, and Janet gave thanks for the small mercy that the little creep fumbled it and missed his chance to take the picture of a lifetime.

Janet's Curse was on a cycle, and in a few minutes she'd start passing out her gas, slowly enough to make a soft landing. But... I'm barely holding onto her as it is. If our weight difference gets any bigger, she'll slip away into the sky. I don't know if she's a self-deflator... and I can't even ask! Even in such dire straits, she cringed at the thought of performing the Counterspell on a complete stranger. We'll never be able to look each other in the eye again. We'll have to move to different states, or different hemispheres if that's at all possible. But Janet knew she'd never forgive herself if she sacrificed this girl to preserve her own sensibilities. Keeping one arm wrapped around her waist, she placed her finger on Intern's... lower abdomen, and being very careful to keep it off of things it didn't belong on, started tracing slow, deliberate, clockwise circles, just like her mother had taught her all those years ago...

The immense blast of gas that ensued took both of them by surprise. Janet held on for dear life as the explosive burst of thrust sent them sailing through the parking lot, across the highway, and over the shopping mall, their simultaneous screams muffled under turgid cheeks. It took what felt like a solid minute for her heart to stop beating out of her chest. Good lord, the pressure she must have been under! She would've popped for sure if I hadn't intervened. It looks like we're heading towards... good, the park. If we can just set down among those trees, we'll at least have a bit of privacy while we finish deflating. We just need to drop a little faster to not overshoot.

Janet pulled Intern's head down to her waist, and when she made no immediate reaction, grabbed her hand and slapped it against her abdomen. Come on, didn't your mother teach you about your body? Or sex ed class? I've been busting my ass to save yours, it's time to woman up and pull your own weight! You couldn't give yourself the Counterspell any more than you could tickle yourself -- your brain would anticipate the sensation and negate it. Finally the girl seemed to get the idea and hesitantly traced a circle...

...but counterclockwise! How could anyone possibly be so STUPID?! Janet swatted her hand away, but the damage was done: her insides burbled and gurgled like a pot of chili left to boil as her rear exit spasmed shut. In a panic, Intern grabbed at the hem of her skirt -- and that was all the excuse the overstressed fabric needed to bust open, her tormentor and her last substantial item of clothing slipping away.

She couldn't crane her neck far enough to see, but she heard the rustle and crack of branches far below her. She landed in a tree -- maybe a little scratched and bruised, but she'll be fine. I just hope I come down somewhere in the park and not in someone's yard. But the minutes passed, and she continued to drift out of the park, over the river, further and further, until she started wondering if she'd even be landing in the same county. And then Janet's blood ran cold as she felt the gentle but unmistakable sensation of a downdraft on her shoulders.

She wasn't coming down at all.


I need to let go of my anger. She didn't ask to bear the Curse, and she certainly didn't ask for my help. It was my choice to get involved, to try to anchor her when I needed anchoring myself, and I was a fool to put my body in the hands of a callow college student who couldn't even undress herself properly. At least she's safely down, and able to alert the authorities. There should be drones searching the skies for me right now.

And they'd better find her. That Counter-Counterspell had almost been the end of her -- one more quarter-circle, and they'd be finding bits of Janet scattered over three states. As it was, her escape valve was an angry balloon knot that only admitted just barely enough gas to keep her from exploding. She's spent the entire day desperately spinning her finger on drum-tight skin, hoping against medical science that her body would relent out of sheer weariness if nothing else. The last light of dusk was fading, and at this point Janet was resigned to spending the night in the air, drifting wherever the wind took her. God only knows where I'll be in the morning. Still, I don't regret at least trying to do the right thing by her. We all owe it to each other to help our sisters in their times of need. She'd probably be having a panic attack right now. I'm a big girl, I can take it. She'll be that much the wiser in the future, and might have the chance to help another Cursed woman in due time. These inflationary episodes always have a time limit -- no matter what, I'll get back down eventually.

 

And when I do, she is FIRED.

Author's Note: 

An attempt to step out of my comfort zone just a little bit. Most of my stories up to now have followed a fairly rigid formula: one girl, isolated from human assistance, trying to fight her inflation on her own. The simple reason for this is, I'm terrible at writing dialogue. The original version of this story had Janet try to talk a panicky Intern through her condition, in which Intern was the only inflatee, and Janet was racking her brain trying to remember what they taught her about the Curse in school. But I just couldn't make their dialogue sound right; it read like they were talking at each other, not to each other. But simply cutting the dialogue out didn't work -- it made no sense for the two of them to spend the entire story not exchanging a word. Then I hit upon the idea of both of them having the Curse, with their mouths swollen shut so they couldn't talk. This added the tension of Janet trying to balance helping Intern with herself and managing her own condition. But the story read a little dry and descriptive without the dialogue to carry their emotions, so I repurposed some of it as Janet's internal monologue, which helped a bit I think.

If you enjoy this story, please read, rate, and comment on my others. Thank you!

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