Claire
Claire shut off the engine of her '96 Tempo across the street from her destination. One of her old sorority sisters was having a get-together with some old university friends. Claire was hesitant to go, not sure if she wanted others to know what had (or more precisely had not) become of her. Five years after graduating and she was still working at the McDonald's, albeit as the manager now, not a cashier. Judging from the cars in the driveway, most of her old buddies seemed to be doing pretty well for themselves. There were a few nice-looking sports cars parked in the driveway of the two-garage house. It's not that she didn't like her lifestyle, she just didn't want it compared to those her friends'. Shaking her head, Claire opened the door. This was supposed to be a fun and casual thing. Nobody there was going to rag on her, not if she still knew her friends.
Claire approached the house, black purse swinging at her side. From the sounds of things, they had started without her. She rang the doorbell and waited, adjusting her baby blue blouse, tucking it into faded bell bottoms of which she was very proud (they were originals). Just as she was making sure she wasn't showing too much skin, the door opened.
Amy looked fantastic. Being married seemed to have brought out the best in her. "Claire, come on in. You look great." Claire smiled.
"Thanks Amy, you always were nice. You look astounding, but you look so different."
"It's this new moisturizer, I swear. Come in, come inside. Hey everybody, Claire's here!" A shout erupted from the living room. Claire grinned as she stepped into what seemed like history. It seemed she still knew her friends; but that's what good friends are all about.
A few drinks later, everyone was talking like old times. Even Amy's husband fit seamlessly into the group of old friends. Everybody was a bit past tipsy and caught in a haze of reminiscence. Michelle was giving her account of what happened one night when she disappeared from a kegger for three hours. Francis was admiring a pen given to him by his boss and fingering the inscription.
"That's a pretty snazzy looking pen there, Francis." Steve interrupted. "Can I have a look?"
"Sure." He handed it over. "My boss gave it to me for getting approval for my design of the new arena."
"Really? That's great." Michelle praised. "Congratulations"
"That you. You know, that pen the saved my life the other day. I was about to cross the street when it fell out of my pocket. I bent over to pick it up and out of nowhere came a huge truck." Francis held his fingers an inch apart. "It missed me by that much."
"Jeez, drivers are getting worse every year. There used to be a time when you didn't have to look both ways before crossing the street." said Claire.
Amy snorted. "Maybe wherever you grew up. It was never like that in the city. Drivers always have been and always will be bad. People drive too aggressively now."
Harold, Amy's husband, agreed. "I know, I used to be a driver at work. I just couldn't take it anymore. I had to leave that job.
"Anyway, back to the kegger. Michelle, tell me more about my wife before I met her. Was she as weird then?" Amy hit Harold on the shoulder; everyone else snickered. "You're gonna pay for that." she threatened.
"Where was I? Running from the squirrel?" Aronld nodded. "I must have been tripping. Maybe I'd had a few too many tokes, but the squirrel scared the bejeezus out of me. I thought it was a wolf or something. I was hiding in the woods for half an hour hoping the squirrel wouldn't get me, crawling from bush to bush. Then I found Claire and Jason." Claire stopped grinning. That was when she and Jason had broken up. She'd thought they were alone. "I was going to go say hi, but they looked 'busy.' The funny thing was, it looked like Claire's boobs were huge, like melons, and they got bigger." Steve looked at Claire, at her face. "Then Jason stopped, pushed her away, said something, and left. I felt awful for you, Claire. That's when I went to find Amy. She's better at helping with that kind of thing."
"You must have been tripping, Michelle." Amy laughed "A person's boobs don't just grow like that. Besides, she didn't have huge boobs when I got there." Everyone laughed except Steve and Claire. Steve was still looking at Claire, and Claire looked like she'd been punched in the gut.
"They did grow, didn't they?" Steve asked when it had quietened down a bit. "Your breasts were bigger then, weren't they?" Claire didn't deny it. Instead she looked down.
"That's why Jason left me." She explained. "He called me a freak of nature. It hurt so much, but I can't help what I am. I didn't want anyone else to know. I was afraid of the same thing happening. You guys don't think I'm a freak, do you?"
Steve shook his head, but Amy burst out. "What? You're saying you can blow up your boobs? This I gotta see."
Claire sighed. She was afraid of this. She didn't want to become a plaything. Claire closed her eyes and inhaled. She filled her lungs and kept going. Everyone's jaw dropped as her blouse pulled tight across her chest and gaps formed between the buttons. When Claire opened her eyes, she saw everyone staring agape at her.
"Oh my lord," whispered Steve.
"That is so unbelivably cool Claire. How do you do it?" Michelle demanded.
Amy got a huge smile on her face, as did everyone else there. Claire started to smile too. These were her friends she realized. Anyone who couldn't accept her, she didn't want them as a friend anyway.
"It's just something I've always been able to do. I'm not sure how it works. All I know is whatever comes in has to go out the same way."
Francis put away his pen. "You mean you can use other things besides air?"
"Oh sure, it can be anything. Water, air, Kool-Aid, beer, helium… it will all work. I can prove it if you want."
"Please do." Franics leaned back in his chair with smug grin on his face. He'd called her bluff.
"Ok." She turned to Amy. "Amy, do you have a big bowl or pitcher I could use?"
"In the kitchen. I think we have an empty juice pitcher, right honey?"
"I think we do. I'll get it for you." Harold offered.
"Would you be so kind? Fill it with water too, please."
Steve cleared his throat. "So, how did you find out you could do this, Claire?"
"When I tried out for the track and field team in high school. I was never so out of breath. At the end of my run I was all swollen up like the Michelin Man. I didn't know what was going on. The coach took me to the hospital. I slowly deflated on the way and was back to normal when we got there. They took x-rays and asked questions, but they couldn't figure it out. After that my parents didn't want me in track and field. I just had to find out what happened though, so I kept running and eventually learned how to control it."
Harold came back with a pitcher full of water. "Here you go, Claire." he said and handed it to her.
"Thank you Harold." Claire rested the pitcher in her lap. Francis leaned forwards as Claire's breasts returned to their former size in one long exhalation. She looked around, grinned, and said, "Bottoms up." She raised the pitcher to her lips, tilted her head back, and started to drink. The effect was immediate. Quicker than the last time, Claire's breasts began to bloat. This time as they grew, her boobs also started to sag, pulled down by the weight of the water inside them. They grew as big as before, and bigger. Her strained blouse protested. Claire stopped drinking, but not fast enough. One button broke off with a snap and went flying across the room. Her blouse relaxed, exposing several inches of previously non-existent cleavage.
"Oh my," Steve said, then laughed. "That's incredible."
"I think you went a bit far that time, Claire." Amy snickered. "We can fix it after you let the water out. I have a sewing kit upstairs. The bathroom's down the hall when you're ready."
"It doesn't come out like that," Claire corrected her. "It comes out whichever hole it went in. It has to come out my mouth. Any sink will do." Michelle arched an eyebrow. "What do you mean whichever? You didn't, did you?" Claire's blush gave her reply. Michelle laughed, then laughed harder and the puzzled look on Amy's when she asked what Claire did. "She tried it 'south of the border.’" Amy giggled, Harold guffawed, and Claire went absolutely crimson.
"So your breasts grow when you use you use you mouth. What happens when you use, umm, other holes?" Amy asked when she got control of her giggle.
"I can't believe I'm telling you guys this. When I go 'down south,' it's the same as anywhere else. Every time I take something in it's evenly distributed. These grew," Claire lightly touched her chest, "because that's where I wanted the water to go."
"So you could make anything inflate?" asked Francis.
"Yep. My belly, butt, hands, feet, ears, nose, you name it."
"Cool," he replied, and took out his pen again.
Several hours and bottles of wine later, Claire had to go to the bathroom. Pretty much everybody was drunk except Steve, who'd taken it upon himself to make sure nobody tried to leave who wasn't able. Claire made her way to the bathroom with the help of a steadying hand on the wall. After doing what had to be done, Claire decided to shrink her boobs back to normal. She was starting to dislike the attention they were getting.
Claire leaned over the sink and opened her mouth. The water came gushing out like a fountain. Some splashed on the edge of the sink and over onto the linoleum floor. Her breasts grew lighter and smaller as the water left them, pulling up and out of her gaping blouse. That's when boisterous singing started in the livingroom. She smiled, remembering the drinking songs of college, but she stopped when she heard the door open. Claire looked and saw Francis standing there. She started to turn away when her foot slipped on the wet linoleum. Claire fell and hit her head on the edge of the sink. She slumped to the ground, unconscious. Nobody in the livingroom heard a thing.
Francis stood in the door of the bathroom looking in. He hadn't known Claire was there. He knelt down beside her. It didn't look like she was bleeding, and she was still breathing. Francis couldn't find her pulse in her neck. Panicking, her put his ear on her chest where he could hear the steady thumping of her heart.
Francis let out the breath he'd been inadvertently holding. Claire seemed in no danger. He lifted his head off her chest. Her rosy nipples were lewdly exposed and looking luscious. Francis idly wondered if there was any water left in her breasts at all. Gingerly, he cupped one of Claire's breasts. When she didn't respond he started to knead it gently. He was unable to tell if there was any water, but kneading her boob felt so nice that Francis started kneading the other breast.
Claire's body slowly started to respond. Francis felt her nipples hardening against his palms. Addled by drink, he thought she must be enjoying it because her body was responding. He started squeezing harder. Claire's flesh bulged between his fingers, but he still couldn't tell if there was any water inside her. Struck by an idea, Francis released her breasts and started dragging her to the tub.
The shower head came off the end of the hose easily, and with Claire sitting in the tub, the hose reached her mouth. Francis turned the water on low, ready to take the hose out if she started to choke, which did not happen. Encouraged, he turned up the flow. Claire's body started to expand. Hardy noticeable, the first evidence was in her face. Her previously sharp nose and pronounced cheek bones softened. Her lips became fuller and more luscious. Francis gently stroked her face. He thought she looked better now than when she had walked in the front door.
A few minutes later, a roll developed underneath Claire's chin. Francis' hand trailed down her slightly swollen neck, over her soft shoulder, and pushed her gaping blouse down. Her arms were larger than before. Francis had to tug to get the blouse off her other arm. Creases were starting to form in her flesh as her parts began to swell over one another.
Francis wasn't sure why or how, but somehow this was having a profound effect on him. He watched for a while, probing this dark place inside him. He was too preocupied with that, and what was going no before him, to notice the darkness start spread. His baser instincts started to take over. This swollen lovely before him yearned to be loved. Francis' hands ran gently around her developing bust. Where before were tea cups now were tea pots. Unable to help himself, Francis leaned over and, light as a feather, licked one areola in diminishing circles until he was just licking her flattened nipple. Her expanding tummy was squishy to his prodding, and her waist had just folded over the top of her jeans.
Caught up in the spectacle before him, Francis turned on the water as far as it would go. Claire's inflation rate tripled. Soon her legs were like sausages, stuffed in her bell bottoms. Seams were strained down the length of the pants. Her calves and ankles flared out with the bell, and the one foot Francis had managed to get the sock off of was little more than a round ball with five painted toenails on the surface. He struggled with the other sock and soon had it off too. Almost faster then the eye could see, her foot swelled into a sphere the size of a basketball.
Claire's torso filled the tub from side to side. Her once graceful neck had disappeared into her body, even her head was starting to be absorbed. Insignificant breasts had become huge, and disappeared again. Rosy circles were the only hint of their existance. Her arms were like hotdogs with five red fingernails on the ends. Francis was incredibly turned on by this. He didn't know why, but he had to see what she looked like with nothing on in this swollen state. His hands dove into the fold at her waist. It took considerable force to undo her button, but the fly on the jeans fairly flew open. Her groin leapt out, instantly straining her light pink panties. Francis tugged at the jeans like a man possessed; trying to free Claire's legs from their confines. It took a few minutes, but he wretsled them down to her ankles. He had to squeeze water from her feet to get the jeans actually off.
The entire tub was filled with Claire. It had been a half an hour since Francis had first turned the water on. It had been three quarters of an hour since Claire had left the living room. Steve was starting to wonder where she was, but in the bathroom was only Francis and Claire. Claire's head was gone. Her face was stretched out over the blob her body had pretty much entirely become. Everything except her groin was bloated beyond belief. The only thing stopping that was her light pink panties, but not for long. There was a creak, then Claire's panties burst at the seams. Francis' eyes nearly popped out at what happened next. With speed unmatched by anything he'd ever seen, Claire's crotch shot down her legs. Her body became one shapeless mass. The previouly neatly trimmed triangle of dense pubic hair became a sparse circle two feet wide. Her labia did not exist, nor her clitoris. There was just a smooth bald patch in the middle of the circle with a tight hole on the bull's eye.
The massive and sudden shift finally brought Claire around. Her eyes slowly opened and she tried to shake her head to clear it. She couldn't. Why couldn't she move her head? Why did she feel so full? Why was there a hose in her mouth? It felt like someone had a hand deep inside her, caressing her most intimate parts. She tried to move a hand but couldn't. She tried to kick but couldn't. She did the only thing she could do. She spit out the hose and screamed.
Steve sat bolt upright. That sounded like Claire. He'd been getting worried. He lept to his feet, followed by Harold who was not as far gone as everyone else. Steve ran to the bathroom, Harold lumbered after him. The first thing he saw was Claire, rising out of the tub like a loaf of bread. The only think that made him think it was her was the colour. The he saw one scared eyeball an he knew. Next he saw Francis looking frightened, his pants undone and his prized pen in his hand, looking ready to stab with two things.
Francis jumped when he heard Claire scream. He'd been playing with the bull's eye in Claire's groin, and himself, when it happened. She wasn't supposed to wake up. Even if she did, she was supposed to be enjoying this. He was soo close. He couldn't have her ruin it now. He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out his prized pen. He lifted the pen up, then felt an agonizing pain in his shoulder as his arm was wrenched back and he was thrown to the floor. "What the fuck are you doing Francis?!" Steve shouted. Harold grabbed Francis from the floor. "That's just wrong, man." he said, looking at Claire. Harold carried Francis like a baby and tossed him out the back door.
Claire was crying as the water streamed out her mouth. Never in her life had anything even close to this happened. Nothing could have prepared her for such an event. She felt utterly betrayed and violated. She promised herself she'd never inflate for anyone again. Steve was saying something, but Claire wasn't listening.
A half hour later, Claire was empty. She wasn't physically hurt except a bump on the head. As soon as the others had heard, the party was over. They could not abide such an act happening in such close proximity. The joy was gone for the evening. Amy lent Claire a top to wear while Steve took her home. It was a quiet drive. Steve didn't know what to say and Claire didn't feel like speaking. She was staring out window at the houses as they drove by. Her tears had dried up a while ago.
Soon they were at her place. Steve helped Claire out of the car and walked her to her apartment door on the fifth floor. "I'm sorry I didn't get there sooner, Claire." he said. Claire didn't say anything. She unlocked her door, opened it, and stepped inside. As the door was about to shut Steve said good bye. The door clicked shut. Steve stared at it and clenched his fist. He couldn't believe what Francis had done; what it looked like he was going to do. Steve felt his hand curl into a fist. He wanted to hit something. Instead he started walking to the elevator. He was half way there where Claire's door opened again. "Steve, please stay with me tonight." she pleaded. He did.
When morning came, Steve was still awake in Claire's living room. She emerged from the bedroom in a rumpled night gown. "Thank you Steve." she said. "Would you like some breakfast?"
"Yeah, sure." He followed her into the kitchen.
Claire cracked four eggs into a frying pan. "What would make someone do that Steve?" She asked as she scrambled the eggs.
"I don't know. Alcohol, insecurity, mental instability, who knows. Too many things." Steve replied.
"Do you think I'm weird?"
"What? You have a very special talent, Claire. Something nobody else has as far as I know. Does it make you different? Yes. Does it make you weird? Yes. Exciting? Definitely."
Claire was quiet for a bit. She pushed half the eggs onto a plate for Steve, and the other half onto an empty plate for herself. "Thank you Steve; for last night, for what you just said. Thank you." She smiled at him.
Steve grinned. "No problem." They sat at the kitchen table and started eating. "Do you want to hang around for a bit?" Claire asked. Steve nodded.
"Do you like my 'talent'?" Steve stopped chewing and swallowed his mouthful. Slowly, he nodded. Claire was relieved. "That's good Steve." Maybe she would relax her promise to herself.