Moderate

There was trouble on the outskirts of town. My patrol of the inner city had focused my attentions on only one area, and now innocent folk were in peril. Quickly, my trusty sidekick BubbleBoy and I squeezed into the BalloonMobile and rolled to the rescue. I had a hard time steering the vehicle because BubbleBoy had become so inflated during our last crime-stopping spree.

"It's really silly, my fetish," I say, making significant effort to allow embarrassment into my voice. I drop my eyes from his as if ashamed, though I've had this conversation a dozen times before.

"Nonsense," he counters, smiling patronizingly. It's there to read in his face: already he is fantasizing that it must be something predictably male. His imagination takes hold of him and he surmises I must be dreaming of a threesome with him and another woman. Uninspired. The truth is far more perverse.

Irina was only halfway through a mug of mead when Cerys ran into the inn and to Irina's side.

Irina sighed. "What did you do?"

"Nothing!"

Irina gave her a sharp look. "I told you I don't want to draw attention while we're travelling."

"No, really!" Cerys said. "I was just looking around the outpost and some men yelled at me!"

"Why are you worried? You're indestructible."

"They're scary! Oh no, here they come!"

Sarah peered down at the field, looking at the arriving helium tanks.  There were three tanks, each one of them bigger than the officials that were struggling to wheel them onto the track.  Sarah watched Sandy, still inflated, stride across the rubber track and help one of the officials heft one of the tank-laden hand trucks up past the concrete lip around the track.  The distended woman grunted slightly with the effort of bending at her massively inflated waistline.