Gone Tubing

Heather kept glancing backwards as she walked to the beach. She told herself that she was eighteen now, and that the swimsuit she was wearing was appropriate for her age. Heather considered herself rather thin and scrawny, but the bikini top and thong bottom did a good job of presenting her feminine assets and making her look more womanly. All the same, she was glad her parents couldn’t see her as they sunned themselves on the elevated back porch.

Heather had brought a rubber inner tube with her, planning to work on her tan as she floated in the surf. She plugged the portable air compressor into the valve and switched it on. About a minute later, the tube was half-inflated, but for some reason, it didn’t seem to be holding its pressure. After some inspection, Heather discovered a small tear on the opposite side from the valve. Fortunately, she had thought to bring a patch kit with her in case of such an incident.

The tiny tube of glue didn’t include an applicator, so she used her fingers to spread it around. After several minutes of fumbling with the patch, she finally managed to form a seal, and the tube continued to inflate. When it reached full size, Heather moved to unplug the compressor — at which point she discovered that her left hand was glued to the rubber surface. Instinctively, she grabbed the tube with her other hand, trying to pull it free. Almost immediately, Heather realized her mistake, but it was too late: now both of her hands were stuck fast.

At this point, Heather considered whether she should go back to the house and ask her parents for help. But presenting herself to her parents in her skimpy swimsuit, stuck in such a childish situation, was more embarrassment than Heather was ready for. She pulled on one hand, then the other; strain as they might, her pipestem arms couldn’t pull themselves loose. Next, she braced a foot inside the inner hole, and pushed down as hard as she could. As the tube swelled with excess pressure, Heather could feel the rubbery surface slowly peeling away from her skin.

Just when her fingers were almost free, Heather’s foot slipped, and the tube snapped back and socked her in the face. The impact knocked her backwards, her butt plopping down into the surf. When her head stopped spinning, Heather found that not only had her hands smushed back into the glue, but her mouth had also adhered to the rubber. And so Heather finally resigned herself to going to Mom and Dad for help.

As she struggled to get her legs under herself, Heather didn’t realize that the air compressor was still running, and that the inner tube was dangerously overinflated. Strained far beyond its capacity, the vinyl patch ripped wide open. Unfortunately for Heather, her glued-on lips formed an airtight seal that completely covered the breach.

Heather’s eyes bugged in surprise as a torrent of air forced its way down her throat. Before she knew what was happening, her belly had bloated to near-term-with-twins size. The gas then quickly sought for other room to expand. Her hips and butt ballooned, carving out deep grooves in the wet sand beneath her, her thong snapping apart against their growing girth. Heather felt her small, pert breasts rocket upward through the cup sizes, tearing through her flimsy top, and her nipples swell and harden into twin spearpoints tipped with pain.

By the time Heather realized what was happening, the pressure had reached equilibrium, and her expansion slowed to a crawl. But a gentle hum in front of her made her realize that the air compressor was still running, and the pneumatic force would continue to build, until it became more than her body could handle!

Fearing for her life, Heather again struggled against her bondage with renewed vigor. But though she fought with all the strength in her slender frame, her face and hands remained hopelessly mired. Meanwhile, the trickle of air still flowing into her fought for room to expand. Heather felt the inflation spread through her torso and back, up her shoulders, arms, and fingers, and down to her calves, feet, and toes. Her legs involuntarily began to straighten at the hips and knees, and Heather flopped backward into the shallow water. Something hard and plastic banged into the bottom of her rotund belly — that air compressor…

In a flash of inspiration, Heather curled her legs with all her might, and squeezed the compressor between her zaftig thighs. As the pneumatic force mounted and forced them back down, she held on with every ounce of strength she had, knowing that blowing this chance would seal her fate. Just when her skin began to creak ominously, the hose finally tore loose from the valve.

Relief washed over Heather as she considered her current situation. In this condition, she could neither move an inch nor call for help, but her parents would probably come looking for her in an hour or so. If she could see around the inner tube blocking her view, Heather would find that her once-lithe figure now had more curves than her high school’s cheerleading squad. Her body felt like an overstuffed sausage, but at least she was safe now.

With a dull roar, a flat wave washed under Heather. It was only a couple inches high, but the cushion of air under her skin allowed it to lift her body off the sand, and buoyed her atop the receding water into the surf.

She twisted and writhed, but her bound arms and inflexible legs only splashed pathetically in the water. She tried to scream for help, but her mouth was still clogged with compressed air and rubber. And so, as her parents obliviously basked in the sun not 100 feet away, Heather floated out to sea like a forgotten inflatable toy, drifting away until she wasn’t even a dot on the horizon.