Cargo Cult

Cargo Cult
by SvenSvenson
©2026

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Disclaimer:  Naughty, inflatable themes herein.
For mature audiences only.
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The blonde woman gestured in frustration at the crowd pressing in around her.

 "Ugh – this!" 

Emotion expressed, she dropped her arm back down to her side, let out a heavy sigh, and took a dejected pull from the straw of her half gallon-sized fountain drink.  "It's just too commercialized now." 
 
"Mmmmph" grunted her red-headed companion around a mouthful of chili cheese fries as she dove her fingers into the disposable paper container to retrieve another unladylike portion to consume.   

Fancifully and scantily dressed in feathery-themed costumes, the two women each had a huge clutch of golden helium balloons on strings tied to a wrist.  All around them, festival goers milled about chaotically, stopping in groups to socialize and admire one an other's costumes. 

I was standing a few paces behind the two but close enough to eavesdrop on their conversation.  

The blonde aggressively shook her Styrofoam drink cup to loosen its crushed ice before her next sip.  "All these newbies and celebs... it's just a fashion statement.  I wish it would go back to how it was before."

There was a lot of truth in the sentiment;  that is, once you got beyond the absolutely surreal ridiculousness of the whole thing.  "You and me both, lady" I thought to myself.

The blonde continued grumbling to her preoccupied companion as the buxom pair melted back into the crowd.

*******************

Every encampment I passed seemed to have its own theme and, though I had read many articles and watched many videos beforehand, I wasn't quite prepared for my first experience.  The sheer size and creativity on display was intimidating, though I must admit to having a sly little smirk on my face the whole time I explored. 

 An earlier cloudburst had helped control the dust but the late afternoon sun was quickly drying out the playa and the relentless foot traffic was once again stirring up the choking alkali clouds that had become the infamous staple of the annual gathering.  On the positive side, the wonderful smells of festival food battled their way through the grit as did the unmistakable scents of intoxication.

One thing that I wasn't prepared for was the encountering of so many of my doppelgangers walking around, all dressed in khaki slacks and button down short sleeved shirts.  Most had even remembered to include the pocket protectors and pens in their cosplay.  

Eventually, I stopped at an installation where this cute twenty-something hippy chick with big cans was handing out free beer.  It was an interesting display that could best be described as a reenactment of sorts.  The group had obviously put a lot of effort into the thing.

The young lady smiled as she handed the beer to me and then looked me up and down and gave me a "thumbs-up".  "Awesome costume, dude!  That's the best one I've ever seen!"  

"Huh?"  I didn't immediately understand what she meant but when she gestured at me with a head-to-toe sweeping motion I looked down at my khaki pants and button down shirt.  
"You look just like him!"

Mid-swig, I almost choked on the gulp of beer but managed to swallow it before returning a smile of my own.  "Oh, uh... thanks.  'Been working on it a while."
  
To be honest, it was just stupid serendipity on my part.  It hadn't even occurred to me that anyone would notice.  I mean, it's how I've always dressed.  I hadn't even considered how I'd be perceived as I walked around.  It was an unintentional case of 'hiding in plain sight', I guess.

I really shouldn't have been surprised, though.  The mall security video had been the only thing tying the The Event's genesis to any one person.  Thankfully, it had been low enough in resolution that you really couldn't get a good look at my face.  

I joined a gaggle of other beer swilling spectators to watch the show for a bit.  The installation consisted of a corralled area with what looked like small concert stage.  A light show sparkled from the gantry above it and loud music blared from a hidden sound system.  

Dancing up on the stage were a dozen women.  Each was dressed in an over-sized tee shirt, bikini bottom, and high heels.  Most humorously, each one had also stuffed a pair of large balloons into her shirt, giving the appearance of sporting a cartoonishly inflated bust line.  A garishly dressed man with a microphone danced along with them. 
 
At the foot of the stage, dozens of men and women danced while wearing what appeared to be modified inflatable sumo wrestler costumes.  A big beach ball was being bounced around from one end of the crowd to the other.

The music and dancing stopped as a drum-roll began playing over the speakers.  Led by the "announcer", a countdown chant rose up from the crowd at the foot of the stage.  When it hit zero, a gleeful chorus of shouts rang out and everyone raised their hands above their heads.  Simultaneously, behind the stage a hidden net was opened and a cloud of colorful helium balloons lifted into the air.  

A wild cheer rose with the balloons, the music resumed, and everyone began dancing again.

The spectators laughed in amusement, me included. 
 
"That's awesome!" exclaimed a fellow observer standing next to me. He was also sipping on a free beer.

I snickered in agreement and watched a little while longer before turning to rejoin the shuffling hordes. 

"Great costume, dude!" the fellow called after me.  "You look just like him!"

I took another sip of beer as I walked away, a hand raised and waving in friendly acknowledgment.

*************************

It was difficult to wrap my head around the whole thing.  Everywhere, there were inflatables, helium balloons, and balloon-themed decorations and costumes.  And, out in the distance at the focus of the vast, crescent-shaped encampment stood a giant effigy.  Silvery and gleaming in the desert sun, the giant Mylar inflatable stood watch, tethered to the ground with dozens of ropes.  The organized chaos of the preceding week was building to a crescendo that would culminate in the evening's big event:  the releasing of "The Ballooning Man". 

Who the hell would have thought my little toy would have ever led to all of this?  I never intended for it to be anything other than a practical joke, really.  I just thought the whole idea was a hoot.  Okay, so I got drunk and took it a little bit too far.  Nobody got hurt.  It was all a big laugh!  I swear, no one has a sense of humor any more. 

But someone out there had an agenda; someone who dwelled at scary levels of influence.

All evidence of The Event seemed to have quickly disappeared after that night: broadcast recordings, internet videos, eyewitness accounts.  All gone.  

International law enforcement had stopped chasing me after a couple of weeks and all of the information about me on Interpol had been scrubbed.  Even the domestic boys had quickly lost interest.  The Hubble Group eventually determined that I'd be okay on my own and with their assistance I was able to live quietly incognito while doing remote engineering work under an assumed identity.  I had eventually lost contact with them thereafter.

At that point, I wasn't really sure if anonymity was a necessary thing.  I had done some clandestine checking and it was as if I had never existed.  Even a fake call to my old office pretending that I was verifying employment references, had drawn a total blank.  They said they'd never heard of me!

I won't lie: that fucking hurt.  I don't like having my life erased.

But, The Event had been too big of a deal to fully memory-hole and some things had survived the purging.  I think it was the persistent rumors that slowly spread, one secret internet forum post at a time.  Some physical evidence had survived as well; snippets of video on tape like the one from the mall security camera... selfies and snaps posted on social media and copied before they could be taken down... torn clothing with video and eye witness corroboration:  things like that.  

Of those who could even be bothered to remember, most dismissed it and chose to believe the whole affair to have simply been a big internet in-joke started by the usual pranksters.  On the opposite end of the spectrum, others swore it was true and would hold up even the most tangential, derivative bit of evidence as absolute proof of The Event having occurred.  

As it all developed I had quietly lurked, daring not to reveal myself lest I be personally erased as well.

That small core of online conspiracy theorists became an informal gathering in meat-space as the legend of The Event spread; a kinky Cargo Cult, if you will.  That gathering had attracted more and more participants as it swelled in both size and scope.  And now, it was this:  A fucking giant, inflation-themed annual festival out in the desert.

And with its ever-increasing popularity, there was money to be made and plenty of people willing to, uh, "rise to the occasion", as it were.  By now, various celebrities and influencers had jumped on the bandwagon and were paying enormous sums of money to live in luxury at the festival and ply their grift, to the general annoyance of everyone else. 

Many giant, multi-national corporations now had a presence, too.  It was good for business, you see.

This year, even the Goodrich Blimp was making an appearance over at the temporary airstrip.  One could see its giant, buoyant bulk looming over the sea of tents, campers, and inflatables of all types. It dwarfed the business jets parked around it.

Fuck.  I guess that I should have jumped on this from the beginning.  Hindsight is always 20/20. 

************************

The afternoon's walkabout finally lead me back to my overlanding rig and I collapsed into my deluxe reclining camp chair under the awning.  My neighbor of the previous several days saw that I had returned and sauntered over with a camp chair of his own hooked over one arm and a large frozen cocktail in each hand.  Soon, we were sitting in the shade together, comparing notes and sipping our drinks as we watched the teeming mass of festival goers pass in review.

I had gotten to know him over the course of the week and had discovered that he was quite an interesting dude.  

In his youth, he had been a founding member and front man for the Bay Area band DefTöngue and after it broke up he had started the original Hot Licks Chicken Wing & Guitar Emporium restaurant chain, which rode the MBA Rock craze that had taken the music scene by storm when it knocked Grunge out of the limelight.  He had eventually sold the chain and its concept to a big conglomerate for a rather tidy sum and had been playing around as a music blogger and angel investor for various tech startups ever since.  

We sipped our drinks and talked.

 "My favorites are the ones in the Jessica Rabbit costumes" Dan opined at one point.  "I tried to get my wife to dress up like that and attend this year, but she didn't want to."

"Yeah?" I asked, prompting for details.

"Duuude, she has a huge rack!  It would have been awesome."  He took a big sip of his drink.  "I guess there's a limit to her indulgence."

"Well, they all get my attention, that's for sure." I enthusiastically agreed.

A few minutes passed as we sat and sipped.  It was Dan who next spoke.  "Hey!" He leaned forward in his chair.  "Did you see that Acacia is here this year?"

"Who is that?" 

"Big star with UltraLift Productions" he explained.  "She used to make their most popular videos but stopped a while back".  He took another sip of his drink. "Fun to watch, though... seemed to have a lot fun making them, too."

"Oh, I'll have to look her up."

There was another lengthy pause in the conversation, punctuated only by the sipping of our alcoholic beverages.

Dan again spoke first.  "Ya' know, it's both good and bad, I suppose... that this has become so popular."  He seemed a bit wistful.  "But there doesn't seem to be many True Ballooners around anymore."

At this, we each took a big swig of affirmation as we watched the throngs pass by.  Yet another lengthy pause ensued.  

He fidgeted for a moment and when he spoke again, his expression seemed to get somewhat serious and his tone more subdued.  "I was there at the beginning, you know" he stated, flatly.

That got my attention and I shifted uncomfortably in my chair.  "At the party beach?  I thought that was all just a big hoax"  I replied, attempting to feign an indifferent skepticism.  "I've never been into the whole legend thing.  I'm just here for the chicks."

"Well, no, not exactly right there at the beach.  But I'm telling you, it all really happened."

"Oh."

Dan persisted.  "I saw the first news reports immediately afterward.  I remember them clearly... had a look at the webcam feeds before they killed 'em.  I saw the found footage.  I've even talked with someone who actually was there." 

I nodded quietly, alarm rising.

"I had a huge collection of evidence... kept an archive online."

THAT last bit got whatever was left of my wandering attention.  Wait a minute... my God, was this actually THE Dan I was sharing a drink with?  Was this coincidence?  Was I being followed?  Was I being set up?   I could feel panic rising and my fight or flight impulse revving up.

"H-had?"  I hoped my voice hadn't risen as many octaves as it felt and paused for a moment to clear my throat and regain control of my tone.  "Don't you, still?"

"No." Dan gestured with his free hand, exasperated.  "The server I had it stored on was hacked and it was all deleted. Damned suspicious, if you ask me."

"Why didn't you back it up?"

"I did, but they found that, too. They even got to my physical media... had a break-in one night.  Hard drives, printouts, sketchbooks, DVDs, VHS tapes..."  Dan pinched his thumb and fingers together and spread them apart as if to mime a small explosion.  "Poof.  All gone."  He then took another sip of his drink and looked off into the distance.

So, that's what had happened.  I had casually followed his website and remembered it going down, never to return.  You couldn't even find it in the "Pepperidge" archive.

"Yeah, man, that's craaaazy"  I said in the best patronizingly sympathetic tone I could manage, but it was difficult to mask my alarm at the revelation.  OF COURSE I believed him.  Without a doubt, there were shadowy groups manipulating things in the background and I was at the epicenter of it all.  But who-the-hell has those kinds of resources?  I seriously began to reevaluate my lackadaisical attitude about remaining anonymous.

"Sorry to hear that"  I carefully added after a long pause.

"Thanks."  Dan shook his head in remembered disgust and took another sip of his drink.  "This" he sloppily gestured at the festival goers passing by, "is all I have left, now."  Then, regarding me with a puzzled look on his face, he stated rather flatly  "Man... did anybody ever tell you how much you look like the dude?  Best cosplay of him I've ever seen!"

"Uh, thanks." I sank down in my chair, looked askance, and meekly sipped my drink.

************************

As the sun crept toward the horizon, the two of us talked and drank until our giant glasses were drained.  I had managed to calm down enough to steer the conversation away from anything too specific about my own background, painting myself as nothing more than an enthusiastic gawker who worked a boring office job.  

Dan eventually rose from his chair and tottered off, mumbling something about finding dinner over at the food trucks.  I watched as he departed, breathing a sigh of relief and after a bit donned the pair of silvered sunglasses I had stashed in my shirt pocket.  For a while, I just sat there and watched folks strolling past.  It wasn't really a lie when I said I was there for the chicks.  

Eventually, I wobbily stood up from my chair and made my way to the bed of my truck to pull a cold beer out of the ice chest.  Drink in hand, I stared down at the locked security drawer next to the cooler.  

For a few moments, I just stood there contemplating what I knew was in that drawer.   

A satchel... a satchel was in there.  And, in that satchel was... my toy.  I almost always had it with me.

A few minutes later I was again sitting down in my camp chair with the toy sitting in my lap.   The cover was open and it was booting up.  I'd been powering it up on occasion to check and see if everything was still okay but I hadn't actually dared to use it since that night at the beach.

I started thinking over the conversation and the train of thought led me to contemplate the situation I currently found myself in.  Why would anybody care so much as to try and erase any knowledge of The Event?  And why had they erased my life?  Hell, I'd consider turning myself in if I could just go back to some semblance of the way things were.  

The more I thought about it, the angrier I found myself getting.

I took a look around me.  One thing was exceedingly clear:  they may have tried to erase it all but they had utterly failed.  

I tilted my head back and drained the remaining contents of the beer in one long gulp.  "Fuck those assholes", I thought.  I crushed the empty aluminum can and thew it onto the dusty ground.

Looking down at the "laptop's" menu screen, I tapped a sequence of keys and brought up the GUI for the Ray Gun.  

I had a plan.

************************

How many years had it been since I had last fired the thing off?  In all that time, I hadn't even dared to so much as try it on myself for fear of somehow being discovered.  Could I get away with a test, right here, sitting next to my truck?  

Well, it worked before, didn't it?  

Besides, I wasn't drunk this time; tipsy and angry, yes, but not drunk.

Again, I found myself on the precipice.  If I followed through, there would be no turning back. THEY would know where I was and who knows what would happen to me then.  The debate between myself and myself was really moot, though.  We both knew that the decision had been already made the moment I had fetched the satchel.

"Fuck it."

A trio of women were approaching, busily talking among themselves.  Each wore a circus ring-leader themed costume hidden behind dozens of large pink balloons so that all you could see of them were their heads, arms, and legs.  Each also wore a top hat, fashionably and femininely tilted in accenture.  I picked the one in the center.  Under all those bouncy balloons, she looked to be the curviest.

I made a scan, brought her form up into the action window, and then selected her boobs.  "Let's see, now, how big?"  I murmured to myself as I worked. "Trippled."  That would be a good start.

I hit the "Inflate" button.  It worked quickly and flawlessly.  The beam emitter fired silently and I could see the balloons over her chest shifting.  She seemed to register a change of some sort and I could see a slightly confused look on her face.  She glanced down and then seemed to dismiss the sensation.

Damn.  How high was she?

So I selected her hips and thighs in the action window.  Again, I set them to inflate to about triple their normal volume then clicked on the button.  Though they were much closer now, I still couldn't hear the sibilant hiss over the festival hullabaloo and the sounds of the rustling latex clouds they wore.  I did, however, see the balloons around her hips shift like the ones over her chest had done.

And again, she sensed a change of some kind but still managed to shrug it off.

As they passed by, she giddily spoke to her friends.  "I think the edibles are finally kicking in!"  The trio giggled in unison and continued on their way.

Well, test successful, I guess.

************************

I shut down the laptop and continued with my people watching.  The daytime heat was ebbing away as the sun sank lower on the horizon, progressively draining the atmosphere of its convective power source.  The wind became a zephyr and soon the air was still, teasing the arrival of another beautiful desert night under the stars.

The sun had just ducked behind the mountain rim as Dan was returning to his motor home.  I gathered up our camp chairs and drink glasses and walked over to him, my wheeled ice chest in tow.  

Over my shoulder was the satchel.

Dan accepted the canned beer I offered and opened it with a "PFFT" as he sat down with a grunt.  Dusk was settling and we sat nursing our beers and watching as the teeming mass of festival goers excitedly made its way toward the center of the festival camp.  Everybody seemed to be in a costume of some sort and we shared a running commentary of the ad hoc parade.

After a long pause in the conversation, I turned to Dan.  "I believe you."

In mid sip, he looked over at me with raised eyebrow.  "Hmph?"

"Sorry for seeming so dismissive earlier.  It really pisses me off about what they did to you."

"Well, it is a bit of a crazy story... but thanks."  Dan still had a puzzled look on his face but turned his attention back to the passing crowd.

This was the point of no return.  

"I want to show you something" I said, reaching for the satchel at my side.

Dan looked on curiously as I pulled the "laptop" out and booted it up.  I then scanned the crowd and pointed out to him a woman gliding past in the flow of pedestrians.  "Red head... white spandex body suit... big bunch of multi-colored helium balloons".

Dan snapped his attention to the woman as I tapped a few things on the keyboard.  "Got it" he said, nodding as he tracked her like an apex predator.

"Watch."  Silently, I clicked on the EXECUTE button in the GUI.

The woman stumbled to a halt and looked down at her chest as the crowd flowed around her.  Within a few seconds you could see her breasts begin to rapidly swell beneath the restraining spandex.  She instinctively wrapped her arms around her ballooning chest and let out a quick shriek.  The programmed inflation was so aggressive that this time you could hear the rush of the helium flowing into her bust.  As she self-consciously looked around, passers-by who'd seen what was happening laughed and complimented her on the costume's setup.

Dan just stared wide-eyed and mouth agape at the sight.  He pried his eyes off the swelling woman to look over at me in confusion.

I tapped another key on the laptop and insistently gestured back at the woman.  "Look."

Dan returned his attention to her.  Her breasts had stopped swelling, but not before they had inflated like two big party balloons, pressing out firmly against the spandex of her body suit.  The fabric's stitching strained against the pressure as its seams traced the outlandish curves of the ballooned bosom her arms were failing to contain.  The big cloud of colorful helium balloons tied to her wrist jostled as she moved.  Everyone walking by seemed amused at what they saw.

Suddenly she went rigid, looking upward in surprise.  Her hands flew back and grabbed her posterior, dragging the rustling cloud of balloons down to partially envelope her.  Buttocks now inflating at the same rapid clip her chest had done, the swelling then migrated into her hips, thighs, and calves.  The seams of her costume stretched as they traced her ballooning curves.  When the hissing finally stopped she sported a hyper-hourglassed figure, like a blow-up doll parody of the female form.

Dan stared after her as the cartoonishly inflated woman waddled away and disappeared back into the crowd, then looked down confusedly at the beer in his hand.  "Did you spike this with something?" His voice was quiet but intense.

A moment of slack jawed reflection passed and then his eyes widened and he slowly looked up at me in wild realization.  He began to shake.  "Y-you... you're him... you're... Mr. Smith" he stammered in a hoarse whisper.

I narrowed my gaze and bared my teeth to give him a cold, calculating grin.  

It worked once.  It'll work again.

"I have a plan."

************************

It took some coaxing to restart the conversation, but once his shock began to subside I was able to regale him with my story and we soon began comparing notes on the whole affair.

"I don't know who they are." I confessed. "But, wouldn't it be awesome to really get back at them?  Prove it once and for all to see?"

The magnitude of what I was suggesting began to sink in and he narrowed his eyes as he spoke.  "They cost me dearly."

"Then, how about a little revenge?" I asked, almost dispassionately.

Dan slowly nodded.  "Yeah... yeah...  I'd like that."

"How close are we to the stage, 200 yards?"

"Give or take, I guess."

"Can we get up on the roof of your motor home?"

Dan thought for a moment.  "There's a ladder on the back and a hatch from inside."

"Okay, take the chairs up there.  I need to go get something."

Laptop in hand, I went to my truck, retrieved a black hard case out of the bed, and then headed back over to Dan's motor home and climbed the ladder to the roof.  He was already up there, sitting in one of the camp chairs.

The view from up high was perfect; a full 360 degree panorama of the encampment and playa.  

Seemingly right in front of us was the main stage with the giant Mylar Ballooning Man behind it.  The scene was brightly lit as a band played for the crowd.  Up in front were tens of thousands of costumed revelers in various states of intoxication, dancing wildly.  Helium balloons and inflatables of every kind, large and small, jostled and swayed buoyantly above the lively crowd.

 The giant encampment curved behind us.  Beyond the thousands of campers, motor homes, and tents lay the temporary airfield out on the playa.  The business jets and the giant expanse of the blimp were silhouetted against the far horizon as the orange hue of the setting sun retreated.  Planets and stars were already twinkling into existence. 

It was going to be an interesting night.

I opened up the hardened case.  In it was a servo-driven, gyro-stabilized spotting scope and a tripod mount.  The scope had a digital port that I could hook into the laptop and I quickly had it setup and was remotely pointing it as we viewed its output in a dedicated window on the laptop screen.   

As the band played, we scanned the crowd through the scope, commented on the musical performance, and bounced ideas off each other while searching for prospective targets.

The crowd roared as the band finished its set and exited the stage, waving to the audience as it went.  The smooth talking announcer then came back on over the PA system, stoking the excitement and anticipation for the evening's main event while the roadies shuffled everything out of sight.  

Then, in a manner that had clearly been shoe-horned into the itinerary, the announcer's now slightly strained voice returned and addressed the crowd.  "Folks, we've, uh... we've got a special guest to help us with this evening's festivities!  Hot off of her North American tour... put your hands together for Airyanna Grosse, the Teutonic Titmouse!"

As a heavy Lo-Fi techno beat started playing over the sound system, from behind the stage the beams from a fountain of spotlights exploded upward and fanned out as a woman's silhouetted figure bounced up toward the front.  She stepped into the main lighting and we could see the infamous buxom blonde dressed in her signature stylized Oktoberfest Dirndl, microphone in hand.  

I zoomed in on her with the scope for a better look.  In the video feed, the intense lighting from behind seemingly gave her the appearance of sporting a halo.  Her bleach blonde pigtails flopped around as she smiled and waved.  

There was a palpable sense that the crowd, while still excited, was experiencing a definite shift in sentiment.   A collective groan seemed to emanate from a large portion of it and from up on the roof, we could hear isolated shouts of "get off the fucking stage!" and some other, much less charitable comments directed at the pop music starlet.

Without missing a beat, she launched into a well-rehearsed, spontaneous product placement script thanking her tour's main sponsor; a multinational snack food conglomerate.

The tepid response from the crowd warned of its chilling enthusiasm.  She ignored the deteriorating good will and continued with an awkward segue into hawking her other sponsor;  an energy drink company.  

"I wish they'd booked Satie Kerry, instead" Dan remarked.  "She's a lot more fun."  

I grunted in affirmation.

From up on our perch, it seemed as if large portions of the crowd were turning openly hostile.

Through the scope, we then watche the singer cringe as she put a hand up to her ear piece.  I swear that I could almost hear whoever it was on the other end shouting at her to move things along.

Loudly, the intro to her latest hit single, "Autotune", began to play over the sound system and she awkwardly shouted the energy drink's slogan over it.  "...it makes you fly!"

Dan and I looked at each other, eyes wide.  The same idea had simultaneously hit us both and we grinned.  I began to furiously work the keyboard.

Dan looked up and scanned the stage.  "Wait, where's her band?"

"Ha.  Yeah, and that's the radio edit, too." I zoomed the camera into her face for a closer view.  "Look... she's lip syncing the damned thing."

Dan swore a righteously indignant curse as I chuckled sensibly and kept typing.

I zoomed the camera back out to place the singer's image head-to-toe on screen and then went about assembling a smorgasbord of different inflation protocols that I'd developed all those years ago.  As my hands danced across the keyboard, her on-screen image briefly flashed and a 3D wire frame overlay locked onto her figure as various sections of it rapidly illuminated and extinguished in quick succession.   "Okay, what's first?" I asked.

"Surprise me" Dan challenged back.

"Hmmmm..."  Hand on chin, I tapped my index finger on my lips for a moment.  "Okay, we'll start with some oldies but a goodies."  I paused for a moment.  "Last chance to back out."

Dan looked at me for a moment, then down at the monitor, and then over to the stage before sending his gaze into the darkening sky as if to steel his resolve.  He closed his eyes and carefully said "do... it."

Slowly, deliberately, I clicked on the "EXECUTE" button.  Dan watched in rapt attention.

There was no noise, no vibration, nor any sound effect.  The only indication that anything had happened at all was that the text ">PROCESSING..." appeared on the command line at the bottom of the interface window, shortly followed by ">DONE". 

Immediately, the singer stopped bouncing around.  Her eyes widened in shock and she stared out over the crowd, mouth agape as her arms dropped to her sides, microphone still in hand.  The music, along with her singing voice, continued as if nothing was wrong.  This elicited disdainful laughter and a risingly triumphant roar from the crowd as the disaster of what was perceived as a mere production glitch unfolded before it.

She arched her back and looked down as the laces across the bust of her costume tightened.  The tops of her ballooning breasts began to swell out above the neckline and she reflexively groped at them in surprise.  The microphone picked up her shriek and added it to the din coming out of the sound system.  When the crowd finally noticed her swelling bust line, a wild roar exploded from it.  The video production cameras zoomed in and soon her inflating figure was displayed on the jumbotrons flanking the stage.

The drone of the annoying pop song continued.

"What's happening to meeee??" she yelled down into her inflating chest as she wrapped her arms around it in a feeble attempt at containment.

The consensus among the re-energized crowd seemed to be that this was all part of the act and the frenzied din began to rise even higher.  Singly and in groups, the costumed attendees began spontaneously dancing and twirling in joy to the beat of the song.

The microphone picked up the sibilant hissing of the helium flowing into her bust as it inflated larger and larger and soon, two distinct and muffled "pops" could be heard as the top strings of the dress's built in corset let loose.  Her boobs bounced at the sudden evaporation of the restraints' tension and then quickly swelled into the newly freed space before their growth slowed to a stop, partially obscuring her shocked expression.

The protocol hadn't finished yet.

The music continued pumping out of the sound system as the now wildly dancing and shouting crowd bounced around down below the stage while the thousands of balloons and inflatables hovering above their heads punctuated their enjoyment.  The singer's eyes again went wide and her hands flew down to her hips.  As the pleats of her dress began unfolding, it was obvious to anyone looking that her naturally curvaceous bounty, along with her thighs and posterior, were now rapidly swelling larger, too.

Bigger and bigger she inflated in the tightening dress until her figure was that of feminine extreme.  Dan excitedly pointed at the image on the laptop screen.  "Look!  I think she's getting lighter!"

Lit by the glowing display, a knowing, devilish grin washed over my face.

Indeed, she was getting lighter.  Just one thing remained to put her over the top... "There it is" I calmly replied back.

With her hips and bust ballooned in cartoonish curvatures, her midriff now began to inflate beneath the tight dress.  The wide ribbon acting as a decorative belt did its best to resist the relentless swell.

"I bet they're freaking out in the control room" I said with a smirk.

"Ooo – hold on!"  Dan jumped out of his chair and slid down the motor home's roof hatch ladder, re-appearing a few moments later with a small device in hand.  "It's wireless DBP that I had specially, uh, 'modified'" he explained as he sat back down in his chair.  He gave me a quick tutorial as he powered the device up.  

I plugged it into the MIC port of the laptop with a patch cable.  

"Let's see if I can dial into their matrix" he added.

While I brought the audio feed up on the speakers, he adjusted several knobs on the device, flipping through static filled channels until he found the right one.  

"...UCK IS SHE DOING OUT THERE??" shouted a disembodied voice through the speaker.

Dan guffawed at hearing the radio message. "We're in!"  

Up on the stage, the starlet's belly continued ballooning into her costume, straining the ribbon-belt to its breaking point. It was obvious that she was now significantly lighter on her feet as she was up on her tippy-toes and trying to remain balanced.  On the jumbotrons, her reaction of surprised panic was being broadcast in a video closeup.  

"THIS ISN'T IN THE DAMNED NOTES!" screamed the voice over the radio.

"JUST GO WITH IT!"  a different voice screamed back in reply.

The velvety smooth tones of the announcer returned to the concert PA, echoing out of the loudspeakers as the prerecorded song continued unabated.  "Why, Airyanna, we never knew you cared!"  You could hear the smile in his voice.

The crowd went wild, the revelers throwing their hands up in the air in celebration as the dancing and bobbing intensified.

Up on stage, the singer suddenly leaned back in an unnaturally unbalanced pose as her feet relinquished contact with terra firma.  Slowly, she began to rise into the air.

"WHAT THE..." a third voice crackled over the DBP.

The first voice returned.  "When did you idiots setup a flying wire rig??"

"We didn't do a damned thing!!" the third voice replied with an indignant tone.

"Get a spotlight on her – NOW!"

As the pop song continued playing, the singer rose upward belly-first into the darkness.  Several brilliant stage lights swung around to follow her up.  She dropped the microphone and it landed on the stage with loud THUMP and an irritating feedback loop fed into the audio system and was broadcast for all to hear.  Kicking her legs and groping at her ballooned belly around an inflated bust, a light breeze carried her up and away from the stage and out of the reach of the lights.

The first voice began transmitting over the radio and was quickly obscured by a high-pitched modulating tone as several other radios transmitted at the same time.  "WHAT TH....SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEE".

The unfinished song was quickly faded out as generic dance music was queued in to replace it.  

The announcer skillfully worked the crowd.  "Let's hear it for Airyanna!"  His tone was clearly trying to imply that it was all part of the act.

The crowd responded boisterously, the roar momentarily overpowering the music.

"SOMEBODY GRAB A TRUCK AND FOLLOW HER!" The first voice screamed into the radio.

Back up on the motor home's roof, the two of us were doubled over in laughter.  Dan, partially recovered but still laughing, managed a question.  "That's not permanent, is it?"

"Nah!"  My eyes were watering from laughing and I cleared away the tears with the back of a hand as I caught my breath.  "Half hour, max, and she'll be back on the ground."

"Okay, good."

"She'll be normal by morning" I reassured him.  "Who's next?"

************************

As the behind-the-scenes panic played out over the radio, we scanned the crowd for more mischievous opportunities, isolating individuals and groups of revelers and blowing them up into balls to just below the point of buoyancy.  There was plenty of spandex, Lycra, and latex to keep us occupied and we boosted many a curve.  

Each time it seemed to delight the inflatees and those in close proximity.  Surprisingly, or not so much so considering the context, there was never any kind of visible panic among those witnessing nor upon those whom we bestowed balloony dispositions.  Neither was there any kind of organized response to this happening.  It's not that anybody in the teeming mass of partiers failed to notice, but I think there were simply too many people and too many balloons and inflatables floating about and obscuring things for any kind of trend to be spotted.

As we listened in, the production crew quickly recovered its composure and had come up with a plan, deciding to cut the remainder of the show and move on to the finale while the crowd was at peak energy.  

The ceremony that had evolved over the years involved everyone in attendance stopping dancing and, in unison, recite a humorous poem that recounted the original Event.  This was quickly followed with a countdown from ten to zero and the ropes being released on the giant Mylar inflatable figure.  The crowd would then release their own helium balloons and inflatables and cheer as it all sailed into the night sky.  The music and dancing would then resume and continue into the wee hours of the morning.

Upon hearing the plan for the evening's truncated festivities over the radio, Dan narrowed his eyes and smirked. "This year, I think everyone should be rewarded for keeping the faith, don't you?"

"Yes..." I slowly responded.  "They should."  There were too many cameras,  too many live streams, and too many people to hide it.  "There will be no denying it, this time."

Without hesitation, I searched for the original weather balloon protocol I had used at the mall and beach and, finding it, made some edits to its script.  It would be a quick, unforgettable ride for everyone;  a ride to be forever remembered.

I checked to make sure there was still plenty of battery capacity left on the laptop and then began running the protocol.

"How far out?" I asked Dan.

He thought about it for a moment and then pantomimed with a finger that started at a fixed point in the air in front of him and spiraled out in a circular motion.  "Start from stage center and set the perimeter to about where the first ring of camps are.  That's not too far, is it?" 

"It should handle it.  But there are a lot more targets this time."  The adjustment was made and entered into the GUI.

"And you can exclude us, right?"  I could hear some worry in the question.

"Yes.  I put us in an exclusion subset before we got started."

"O-okay."  He seemed reassured.  "I think we need to make a clean getaway as soon as everyone goes up."

"Oh.  I was thinking we'd just lie low, here."

Dan countered.  "Nah.  We should head south and put as much distance between us and here as fast as we can – I don't want to be a sitting duck.  We'll just merge in with the traffic stream."

Ah, that made better sense.  Traffic into and out of the festival was always constant.  Plus, I didn't think They would be expecting this bold of a move.  By the time anybody who was paying attention could get the word out, we would be well on our way.  They would obviously know I was here or had been here but at least we wouldn't be trapped at a known location as it was methodically searched.  Hell, maybe They knew I'd eventually show up and were already here.  "Okay... I'm with you."

"Good."  Dan was confident.  "I think we still have a few minutes before they start.  Go button things up on your rig and get ready to move."

************************

I run a tight ship, so there wasn't much to do in order to pack up and within a few minutes I had finished and was back up on the roof of the motor home.  Dan, too made sure he had everything ready to go and joined me a few moments later.

We were just in time.  The dance music faded and the festival's MC walked up onto the lit stage, bathed in light.  The crowd cheered with a knowing anticipation as the popular host laughed and waved at them in the excited acknowledgment of a shared enthusiasm.

Meanwhile in the background, the production crew was professionally relaying orders and giving feedback to one another over the radio.

As a prerecorded video set to music began to play on the jumbotrons, the host spoke warmly of the festival's origins and of its community spirit as the crowd swooned in laughter and cheers.

The host finished his perfectly timed remarks as the video closed and the festival's logo took its place on the jumbotron screens.   "And now... ladies and gentlemen..." he spoke dramatically before pausing.

The powerful sound of a halting timpani percussion beat erupted from the sound system like a series of thunder claps. 

He spread his arms, palms up as he tilted his head back, paused once again, and then shouted up into the night sky "It's balloonin' time!"

A rousing symphonic horn section joined the booming percussion as a dramatic rendition of "Fanfare for the Common Man" played over the sound system to announce the start of the ceremony.

Behind the stage, a ring of brilliant light beams burst into existence, illuminating the giant Mylar inflatable like a supernova.

Likewise, the crowd exploded with excitement.

"Rope crew, GO!" commanded the supervisor's voice over the DBP.  A line of festival volunteers began walking out to surround the inflatable, each taking up station at one of its tie-down ropes.

The dramatic music faded out as the host readied the crowd for the recitation of the poem and countdown.  

"Standby for captions..." came the radio voice.

Dan looked down at the laptop and then at me, "Are we ready?"

I made a quick check of the settings and had a second look at the diagnostics window and battery state. "Yes" I said, accompanied with a thumbs up gesture.  "It'll take a few seconds to run so I'll execute it somewhere around the middle of the countdown."

"Good."

Back up on stage, the host signaled the start of the poem and began reciting it as the crowd joined in.  At the same time, the poem's text appeared on the each of the jumbotron screens with a little bouncing ball keeping time as it danced across the words.

A hundred thousand voices enthusiastically spoke the humorous rhyme, lead by the host up on stage.

With the recitation complete, there was a pregnant pause followed by the numeral "10" being displayed in large characters on each of the jumbotrons.   The crowd and host dutifully spoke in unison.  "TEN!"

I made sure the pointer was hovering over the EXECUTE button on the application GUI window and then waited with my finger above the pointer button, spring loaded like a mousetrap.

"NINE!"

Dan took his wide-eyed gaze off the stage for a moment, looked at me, and then returned it to back up to the stage.

"EIGHT!"

"Standby on ropes" came the familiar voice over the radio.

"SEVEN!"

"Ready" a female radio voice answered.

"SIX!"

This was it.

"FIVE!"

I clicked the EXECUTE button.  Nothing seemed to happen.

"FOUR!"

"Oh... SHIT!" I tersely whispered in alarm.  

Dan snapped his head back over to look at me, wild concern in his eyes.  "What??"

The laptop's screen had gone blank as its cooling fan's RPM ramped-up to a screaming pace.

"THREE!"

I reflexively and uselessly slapped the side of the laptop's case.  There was a pause and the display video returned.  

"TWO!"

The cursor again began flashing on the application window's command prompt line.  I held my breath, panic clutching at my core.

"ONE!"

A single word appeared in the GUI.  ">DONE"

"ZERO!"

"Ropes... NOW!" commanded the radio voice.  

All of the ropes holding the giant Mylar inflatable fell away at the same time.  There was a pause and then the huge, silvery effigy began to rise up through the fountain of light and into the night sky. At the same time, all of the balloons and inflatables down in the crowd were released as a the loudest cheer of the evening seemed to flood the entire valley in a deafening roar.

Both of our gazes turned to look up at the crowd.  

Neither of us saw any indication of change at first.  Instead, we heard it:  a sudden, low but unmistakable hissing that seemed both near and far at the same time.  It was barely audible below the jubilation but rising fast.  I zoomed the camera into one area of the crowd and then another and another, searching for any evidence of what we knew should be happening.

It was up near the stage where the lighting was the brightest that we had the first visual confirmation and I zoomed in close enough to see details.  Everyone on the screen was visibly expanding into their costumes.  A panicked delight seemed to overtake everyone as a rising laughter grew and rose.

"Whaaa... whaaat the hell??" came a voice on the radio.  You could hear a loud hissing picked up by the speaker's headset microphone.

"...FLATING..." another radio voice chimed in.  In the background, you could hear the alarmed exclamations of those around the woman who'd made the call.

Dan and I sat there in shocked amazement as we realized that our plan was actually working. Astonishment soon turned to glee as we watched the crowd begin to jostle around as everyone in it swelled up like helium balloons.  

I had set the inflation rate to be much higher than the time at the beach so it wasn't long before the first inflatees began to leave the ground and start floating upwards.  

"Look!" Dan exclaimed as he spotted the first of the people-balloons floating into the air above the crowd, darkly silhouetted by the stage lighting.

I zoomed the camera into the area where we'd earlier zapped a large group.  With the head start, it was they who were indeed the first to get airborne.  As each floated up, the space on the ground where they'd been was soon taken up by swelling partiers.

Closer to us, we could hear the confused excitement, the sounds of rending of fabric, and the rubbery squeaking of pliantly buoyant flesh.  

There was a series of clipped radio calls made before the airwaves went silent for a short bit.  An unfamiliar voice then made a frantic call. "Bobby!  What the hell is going on over there??"  No response followed.

We watched the video feed in silence as small groups of inflatees rose up out of the crowd.  Within a few moments, larger groups were following their lead.  Back up on stage, the ballooned host had dropped his microphone and had begun to rise into the air as well.  

An excited roar grew and rose as more and more buoyant and swollen revelers took flight.  Within a minute or so, the entire crowd seemed to be slowly rising into the air, like the morning mist from the surface of a mountain lake.

The two of us watched, mouths agape as a hundred thousand rotund balloon-ees took to the sky before us.

It was Dan who, again, broke the silence.  "Uh... we need to get going... now."

*************************

The two of us began scrambling.

Dan dropped our folded chairs down through the rooftop hatch as I unplugged the peripheral cables and powered down the laptop, stowing it in the leather satchel.  Next, I hurriedly put the spotting scope and tripod away in their shared case.  We both giggled nervously as the magnitude of what we had just done pressed down.  

From around the encampment, we caught glimpses of bewildered stragglers who'd been outside the inflation zone as they began to converge on the stage. 

"There is absolutely no way They don't know you're here, now."  Dan giddily exclaimed.

"I don't care anymore" I replied, defiantly.  Of course, this wasn't really true but it felt good to say it.  Maybe if I repeated it enough times it would become true.

"I have contacts.  We can keep you hidden."  Dan seemed confident. "Hell, I already have enough resources to do the job.  But, do you realize how much money some people would pay for this experience?"

I was momentarily stunned by the suggestion and its implications.  Why I hadn't seen it before, I did not know. 

"Uh... yeah.  We could probably make bank."  I then patted the satchel slung over my shoulder.  "Look... if we get out of here I'll build you another one of these for your own personal entertainment."

Dan's eyes went wide and he gasped.  Holding his breath for a moment, he then managed to exhale a barely audible  "Duuuuuude".

With a final exchange to confirm our escape route, we parted.  Dan began climbing down through the hatch and into his motor home as I made my way for the ladder at the rear.  

Before he disappeared below, he smiled and called out to me.  "Hey!  You gotta meet my buddy, Luther!"