Bottoms Up!

Once the laboratory was quiet, the room darkened and everyone gone, Philippa emerged slowly from the store cupboard where she had hidden. She was careful not to set off any motion detectors as she stepped out onto the tiled floor, but fortunately there were none and the pristine silence remained just that. The slender girl pitter pattered gently across the floor towards the windows. She looked out of the seventh floor window over the car park and the busy motorway, silenced behind the double panes of glass. Darkness had fallen and the cars, with their headlights on sped by the empty university labs, nobody likely to notice a single lit window. Philippa smiled seductively to herself, running a tender hand through her silky, long, light brown hair.

The postgraduate chemistry student had been assisting her professor in a series of experiments on novelty confectionary and something about them had awakened the inner child in the previously austere, bespectacled researcher. For that reason she had been taken by a burst of mischievousness and decided to secretively stay behind and have a bit of harmless fun playing round with their new discoveries, like a child in a sweet factory.

Phillipa flicked the light switch by the door, and the banks of fluorescent tube lights flickered to life, illuminating in increments the long, sterile, white room, with it’s brushed steel work surfaces, glinting chrome taps and colourful liquids in crystal clear phials in lacquered pine racks. With a giddy shiver of repressed excitement and a noticeable flourish she tip toed over to one of the racks; even though nobody else was in the building it just somehow felt more exciting if she remained on edge. The two chemicals she took down were those that they had found, when reacted, produced intense amounts of nitrogen for prolonged periods, fizzing wildly in a way that felt pleasant to touch, almost massaging. One was a vivid blue, the other dull orange; but when Philippa poured both into a small cup on the sideboard they swirled around together until suddenly, like a magic trick, they mixture became clear. Then the fizzing began, Philippa could hardly contain her excitement as she saw the intensity of bubbles mounting in the little cup, bursting clear of the surface of the mixture and giving of huge volumes of nitrogen. She held the cup in front of her eyes for a moment’s hesitation and then, with a shiver of anticipation she quaffed the mixture and put the cup back down.

Instantly she felt the bubbles tickle the back of her throat as the mixture disappeared towards her stomach. She felt the tickling feeling fizz down her chest, causing her to giggle silently and rub her hands excitedly yet frenetically tentatively along her breastbone, as though trying to scratch an unattainable itch inside her. She felt a feeling of butterflies as the mixture reached her stomach and giggled in audible bursts, but she also felt the tell-tale sign of gassy build up in her abdomen. Not surprising, she thought, it was a very fizzy mixture she would have to burp soon to release the nitrogen. She grabbed a pen and notebook from her top pocket, and hands shaking from the pleasure, scribbled down the words ‘mixture 8612 – highly pleasurable when consumed’ before shoving it back into her pocket, and standing still momentarily, still tittering and quivering from the tickling sensation inside her and feeling the bloating sensation growing, waiting for the gas to rise back up to her mouth. But as the feeling of gassiness mounted, there was no sign of the gas escaping, it was all staying in her belly and now she was sure she could actually feel her stomach tightening inside her, as though it were blowing up like a balloon. Amidst the giggling, Philippa made an uneasy attempt to compose herself and wonder how to get the gas out of her, she could still feel the intense caress of the bubbles, originating in the pit of her stomach and floating up to below her chest, but this was accompanied by a feeling of real butterflies, she had encountered a problem she hadn’t anticipated. She allowed her hands to rub over her stomach and feel what was happening, her whole midsection felt rounder and she could feel movement under her hands, she looked down and was alarmed to see her turtleneck sweater shifting and tightening as her belly swelled beneath it.

Oh crap! she thought, she really was blowing up like a balloon, and she still couldn’t think how to release the gas, Philippa had no idea how much strain the human body could take, how big it was safe to expand, and the idea of inflating beyond her limits was unbearable. Her stomach continued to distend, and quite rapidly too, passing through stages that looked like pregnancy. Wide eyed, she placed her hands on the front of her expanding belly and, trying to force the air out, pulled her hands inwards. Her stomach felt like an inflatable mattress or a rubber dinghy, and just sprang out again, getting bigger and bigger and pushing her hands apart as though they were on a balloon she was blowing up. She felt the source of the bubbles moving down into the lower part of her abdomen, near her crotch. The tickling was now between her legs and, she had to say, felt immensely pleasurable, making it even more difficult to remain calm. Her whole front was pumping up with gas now, pushing her sweater up and her trousers down and exposing her taut flesh and belly button, she grasped her hands around this great sphere like she was holding a giant beach ball and gasped for breath, her eyes panicked and wide as dinner plates. She moaned softly, with both pleasure and gassy tension as she felt her bum and thighs also inflate, widening and becoming more curvy so she could feel the strain in her jeans, and the twitch of the fabric as a stitch between her legs blew with a loud crack. The gas was building up too fast, and too greatly, there was no way she thought it was going to stop before she reached her physical limits. Again she didn’t allow herself to imagine what would happen once those limits were breached.

Philippa began to feel the inflation spreading to her arms, the reduction in mobility forcing her to gradually start straightening them, releasing her grip on her stomach. As both her legs and arms plumped up with the fizzy gas brewing up inside her she felt more and more trapped; trapped by her own body, so that she couldn’t do anything to help herself. Her breasts also began to bulge beneath her turtleneck, growing fatter and rounder, and lifting up towards her chin. The pressure was now filling her whole body, straining like a drum, so that the sound of her own breathing was now deep and cavernous in her ears, like a soundtrack of increasing dread. Amidst the groaning and cracking of her strained attire she pushed her arms, against their turgidness, round behind her to feel her expanding bottom. Straining to touch it with her fingertips, her arse felt so incredibly pumped up, both inside and out; then getting the palms of her hands onto it, she could only briefly rub each cheek with each hand in a circling motion before she felt her hands lifting away again due to her inflating arms. She desperately groped for her own ass, something she hated men doing to her in bars, but just desperate to feel what her body was like to touch one last time. She could only fleetingly give her bum a little squeeze, enough to ascertain how little give there was in it before her hands and her body parted company for good.

As Philippa stood trapped in the middle of the lab panicking without being able to do anything, her arms straightening, and her body slowly magnifying and becoming rounder, she noticed her swelling body, and especially her bust, was now swelling up towards her head to the point her view was being blocked. She looked left and right but was only able to see the walls and ceiling of the room, the floor and all the desks hidden beneath the burgeoning white blimp that was her body beneath a stretched lab coat; she looked forwards to see her breasts, two giant mounds rising up beneath a turtleneck which was busting out from inside her lab coat, which was fastened a the front by a zipper which had become stuck and was holding firm and which she could feel pressing against the length of her balloon body. She could also see her top pocket, just on the ‘horizon’ of her right breast, and poking out of the top of it, her little notebook. If only she hadn’t made that note about how good the mixture felt, she thought, if someone found it after she had… gone, then they could suffer the same fate as her.

She tried to keep herself from imagining this fate, but it wouldn’t stop it’s arrival, she heard a creak that might have been her own body straining, her fate was sealed so she thought, she may as well prepare herself emotionally for it, there was nothing else she could do. She felt her cheeks puff up as the gas entered them, and her sinuses fill with the gas, making her ears hurt as the pressure began to exert itself on the last parts of her it could… it was getting too much. When the pressure got too much, and she couldn’t bear to think of it, she was going to explode! Her body was now surely pumped right up to its elastic limit, barely capable of inflating any bigger, she closed her eyes tight and tensed herself as best she could. When she did finally… she swallowed hard at the implication… burst, it was bound to make a mess of the lab, surely no-one would go carelessly consuming random liquids from the notebook of the unfortunate person whose explosion had left the notebook amongst the… she swallowed again, her through feeling dry… other mess. Deep within her she could still feel the dull, pleasurable ticking of the bubbles, but each twinge of pleasure, she was all too aware, was now another release of gas into her already overpumped body. Imagining her eventual demise had caused a cascade of thought and now she couldn’t stop thinking of herself, her, Philippa Davies, promising chemistry graduate, in this shape, blown up like a blimp in her own lab, her demise her own doing, exploding. She couldn’t stop thinking of new descriptions, she would pop, be blown apart, burst like a balloon, the loudness and violence of what was coming to her, BOOM, BANG, BLAM, all those thoughts, and it was too much for the tender girl to take. A tear rolled down from one of her eyes and she closed them with a tightness that matched her body’s straining and creaking louder, along with her ocean-like breathing, and tried to concentrate on the pleasurable sensation she still had left. She thought to herself, these last couple of seconds, she could only…

Her thoughts were cut off.

The next morning a group of undergraduate students were the first to enter the lab. They saw a scene suggestive of some earlier mayhem, windows along the far wall cracked or even smashed, glass beakers and test tubes knocked off desks and even a couple of desks turned over. And everywhere were scraps of white fabric, denim or wool, also there were a pair of trainers, stood towards one wall, without an owner and a pair of broken spectacles laying on a bench at the side of that wall. One student, a girl picked up a notebook from the floor.

‘mixture 8612 – highly pleasurable when consumed’ she read aloud

‘Looks like there was a hell of a party in here last night’ another girl said.

The first girl reached to a shelf containing the mixture, and checking no-one was watching poured some into some test tubes in a rack, taking one as the other girls gathered round.

‘Well’ she said as she held her test tube up in front of her… ‘bottoms up.’