It was Monday and I was back to work, all I could think about was going home and inflating. Some time, during lunch, I sat at my desk, and decided I needed to call my discovery something. Later that day, while getting ready to go home, I was stopped by security. I was escorted to the presidents’ office. He was an older gentleman with gray hair, brown eyes, tired face and a course voice from all the cigar smoking in his years. They security guard escorted me to the chair and I sat down. Hans, he began, so did everyone else, no one like to say my full name.

The Intertwined Histories of Human Ballooning, Diving Rescues, and the Inflation Olympics:

A Personal History

 by Latecomer

I sit down on the tank itself, wearing only a pair of black panties and a black bra, both made to stretch a considerable amount. Under me is a helium tank.

I push my brown hair out of the way, my green eyes glistening. I take the hose of the tank, and put the nozzle in my mouth. I turn the valve, and a rush of the gas goes into me.

First my stomach expands, filling divinely and quickly. Already I look like I should be carrying twins. Next were my breasts, filling evenly, and quite well. The pressure was building already, thirlling me.

Hi, I’m Rob. I’m into balloon and body inflation. Just like you.

My wife’s name is Alyssa. She recently had four of her friends over for a girls night: Denise, Tina, Kelly and Sophie.

This is a story about people inflating like balloons. Becoming balloons.

This is my story.