Kate's First Story

I’m sick of it. I’m sick of the bullies, the corruption, the stress, and the fear. Most of all the fear. This high school I’m in now has almost everyone afraid or putting fear into others. But not me, not this girl Kate anymore. I’m not afraid, because I’ve learned I’m something more than just another girl. Something more than just another bit of prey. I’m something else entirely.

I’m not letting anyone else spread fear anymore.

I know this because right now I’m in the hallways, and I see a bully shoving someone into the wall. The bully’s one of those late-model grunge types, skinny with a scarred face from a rough life or difficulty learning to shave. He’s shoving into a wall a girl I’d guess in Junior year with the most 80’s hair cut I’ve ever seen, but who otherwise does not look like she could handle herself in a dirty fight. She knows it, given the way she cowers as this bully pulls something out of his pocket. I feel a little relief when I see that the guy is so dumb that he is threatening her with just a knife handle, how ha- Oh, wait, no, it’s a switchblade: he has just extended the blade.

“Give me your money or I’ll cut your eyes out!” He snarls in typical bully behavior for this school. I’m walking towards them now, standing as tall as I can, for I feel no fear. While I do so, the woman has managed to pull out her wallet and take her money out. Trembling, she hands it to him just as I think I have come close enough.

“Alright!” The bully yells in her face, “Now, I’m gonna cut just ONE of your eyes out!”

“NO!” I declare (no other verb will suffice) and the bully and victim both look at me. I am surprised: the bully laughs at me.

“Stay there, Girlie!” He yells at me, “I’ll cut your eyes out in a second!”

“Idiot: I’m Kate the Hall Monitor!” I respond, folding my arms in front of my chest. The bully doesn’t respond to this at all, just turning back to the girl to cut her eye out. I then remember that there is not really a reason for the guy to be afraid of me. No announcement has been made about me and I am not intimidating, being a not very tall female and kind of thin senior student with a sailor outfit and no more visible weapon than a mean glare. Well, I think it’s a mean glare. My friends tell me it looks cute, but that’s getting off topic. Anyway, this un-intimidating appearance of mine allows me an element of surprise I am sure will be quite useful.

I am faster than the bully, and have thumb inside my mouth before he can put that knife tip in her cornea. Faster than a blowing leaf blower, I begin to blow for all I’m worth. I swell, first in my stomach, then it travels down to my waist, then the air travels up and down my body as I inflate. I become am become balloon, destroyer of bullies. I go from five and half feet to seven feet from the air inside me, then I go to eight. Nine. I stop at ten feet. Much higher and my head would be brushing against the ceiling, that’s how much air I have inside me.

I am a magnificent sphere, I am assured of this from the look in the bully’s and his victim’s eyes when they look at me. They look at my huge belly, right at my belly button first, but then they look up at my face, and I cannot help but smirk looking down at him. But I don’t hesitate any longer: I can’t wait to start giving this guy just what’s coming to him. Really show him and everyone else what I can do.

My arms are free, uninflated unlike my huge torso. I reach back behind myself, then hurl my arms forward, providing enough momentum for me to roll. I see my shadow spread across the stunned bully and there is something rewarding in his eyes. It’s almost as satisfying as when I press down on the guy, knocking him to the floor. I roll forward a little more and can just see him over the curvature of my boobs. I smiles at him and push into my inflated torso with my hands, punctuating the triumph.

But then the bully grins back up at me, and he moves his hand in front of his face. He still has the switchblade.

My smile wilts.

He draws the knife back, grimacing.

I close my eyes.

I feel the knife poke me hard.

Nothing happens.

Of course nothing happens! Do you think I’d be dumb enough to roll at a guy with a knife if I could just be popped like a balloon? I’ve just been screwing with the bully by acting afraid, and I open my eyes and blow him a nice raspberry, my spittle falling directly on his face. The bully is made extra furious at this, and he pulls back and stabs me repeatedly. I begin laughing.

“Keep it up!” I yell down at him. “It tickles!” As tough as my skin is, it is still quite sensitive when I blow myself up. The bully then begins squirming under me, trying desperately to get out from under me. He barely moves, but that’s REALLY ticklish when he does that. I begin to laugh so hard my enormous body begins to jiggle. The bully feels like he’s squirming harder in response, hoping the jiggling will help him free himself. It doesn’t, since I’m too heavy for him, but it does make me laugh even harder and even squeal a little.

I must admit I’m not a very serious looking hero when the police finally arrive.

Later, fully deflated, I dust myself off a bit with the student apparently so grateful at me she can’t think of how to say it.

“Just doing my hall monitoring.” I say, and turn to leave. I’m quite late for class. But I don’t really mind when I feel her grabbing my shoulder.

“Wait, Kate! I never showed or told anyone else this before, but I think I can help you!”

“Oh?” I ask, amused.

“Sure! Watch!” She puts her finger in her mouth and turns away from me while I crook an eyebrow. I hear her blow. She bends down for emphasis as her ass begins to inflate. She has on very loose fitting shorts, and they begin to strain as her cheeks become larger and more curvy. They’re each so large I could straddle them by the time she stops and turns her head back towards me.

“What do you think?” She asks.

“What’s you name, Kid?” I ask.

“Saki!”

“Saki, I think you and I are ready to start really cleaning up this school!” I proclaim. I then good-naturedly nudge one of her butt cheeks with my elbows, throwing her off an apparently precarious balance. She looks hurt at me with her face against the floor after falling.

“Sorry.” I say.