It started out as a great day. I'd finally lost some of that annoying pudge I'd carried for so long, these contacts finally stopped irritating my eyes, and I finally looked great in a tank top and tight jeans. A pair of sunglasses and a little hair gel, and I'm ready to hit the town.
I headed down the stairwell of my apartment building, humming a MIKA tune.
"Hey!" someone shouted. I looked, and it was my neighbor Mark on the floor below. I'd always thought he was a little attractive and wondered if he might be into guys too. Maybe he was finally going to ask me to hang with him. So I went to him cheerily.
"What's up?" I asked, smiling.
He smiled mischievously at me. I guess I probably should have suspected something was up.
"Come in," he smiled, and I did.
A pairs of arms grabbed me, and that's when I knew I was in trouble. Mark's roommate Rob pinned me to the floor.
"Damn queer," scoffed Mark. He pulled my sunglasses off.
I looked around in panic. What were they going to do? Rape me? Murder me?
"Get the tank," Rob grunted.
Mark opened a closet near the apartment door and pulled out a small tank of what looked like propane.
"You like hoses in your mouth, right?" asked Mark.
"What the fuck are you doing?" I demanded,
Silently, Mark attached a hose to the tank and jammed the other end into my throat. Then, he hit the valve.
The gas seemed to shoot out quickly. It filled my lungs, my stomach, and just about every other part of my body. And then it happened. My belly began to swell. At first it looked as if I hadn't lost all that weight, but then it got bigger. My tank top and jeans grew tight and began to tear.
Mark stopped.
"He's going to get huge. Take him to the balcony."
Rob gently pulled me to my feet and led me, staggering, to the little wooden outcropping of their apartment. The hose never left my mouth and I couldn't make a sound. Then Mark resumed pumping the gas.
My body continued to swell up into a round, ball-like shape. My arms and legs swelled up and stuck out like sausages. My jeans and tank top tore off, and aside from my socks, shoes, and tight briefs, I was naked. Suddenly, I began to lift off of the ground.
I grew larger and floated higher, and as I got higher, the hose began to slip out of my throat. Finally, I spit it out, but I was now higher than the wooden edging on the balcony.
I'd barely seen Mark or Rob, who were silent while filling me full of that gas. I didn't care. I felt awful. My mind was reeling. I just wanted to get away. I'd spent so long trying to lose weight and look attractive, and now I was a bloated ball with stubby arms and legs and a lump of a head sticking out.
I tried to move my arms and found myself swimming through the air. Not looking or caring where I was going or who'd see, I tried to breathe in cool, clean oxygen, but found I could only do it through my nose.
After a few minutes, my mind felt better. I was floating over the storage unit facility across the street from the apartment complex, which I realized was just out of sight from Mark and Rob's apartment.
Did they even care what happened to me? Was I a cheap thrill for them? A turn-on? An act of murder?
No, I told myself, you aren't going to die. I had to think. I was full of gas, and how does someone rid themselves of gas?
Belching and passing wind. I could try to force it to happen. But I had to be careful. I was about fifty feet in the air, and if I came down too fast, I might survive, but might sustain a bit of damage. Little ones gradually, and not big ones.
I did my best to squeeze my buttocks and after a minute, a little "poot" was heard. I seemed to be in the same position, so I tried to squeeze my chest. A little bit of gas rushed out of my body and I noticed I'd inched down a bit.
Baby steps.
I kept forcing my chest and buttocks to expel gas, and sure enough, my body grew smaller and began to dip closer to the ground. Finally, I was back on my on two feet and seemingly un-inflated.
I looked myself over. Whatever the strange gas was, it didn't appear to have left me looking too bad.
Still, there were a couple of jerks who'd just victimized me and ruined my day.
But I was also a block away from home in my underwear and socks and shoes. I had to go back home and get something on.
Walking back to my apartment, I ran into Rob in the stairwell. He was carrying the shreds of my clothes and my wallet back to my apartment.
"I—uh—thought I'd leave these here," he said. "Just in case."
I grabbed them from him.
"Why'd you do that?" I asked quietly.
"I think it's hot." Rob replied.
"Does Mark?"
"He just wanted to hurt you," he explained. "He's pretty homophobic."
"Are you any better?"
Rob dug his toe into the carpet.
"Look, I'm gay too," he said at last. "And I've always liked the idea of seeing someone inflate, but I couldn't tell Mark."
I crossed my arms.
"So you decided to mix your fetish and Mark's desire to hurt me?"
He nodded.
I sighed and looked at him. "That's pretty fucked up."
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"None the worse for wear, I guess. What was that stuff?"
"Inflatium. Some gas I found online that can inflate living things."
"Doesn't sound like something you'd find on Amazon," I commented, and headed into my apartment. He followed me in.
"Look," he said. "I just... I just want to say that you're hot and inflating you really turned me on."
I shrugged. "I appreciate it, but I'm not in the mood."
"Anything I can do to make it up to you?"
I looked Rob over. He was not a bad looking-guy. A nice, set face, and light muscle tone. Maybe there was something...
"I have an idea," I said at last.
Mark made the finest human balloon we'd ever seen. We blew him up in the parking lot, making sure to tie him down first. After he was about 30 feet high, almost entirely round with his arms and legs and head completely disappeared into his body, we stopped.
The entire city had turned out to see this amazing sight, news crews filming it. About a hundred people with video phones were getting ready to post to YouTube.
And then we kicked Mark's swollen ass.
You know how a balloon sounds when you fill it up, then let it go flying around as it deflates? Imagine that, but higher and louder.
Mark shot up into the air and I was almost afraid we'd killed him. But then he came shooting back to earth, still swollen, but deflating and otherwise unhurt. Finally, he lay on the ground, naked and very confused.
He moved away due to the public humiliation, and Rob now lives with me now as my boyfriend. We really wound up connecting once we got past the whole "you turned me into a balloon" thing.
And now that we're open with each other, every now and then, for a little fun time, we break out the Inflatium. Sure, we've never gone "Mark size," but it is a lot of fun, sharing romantic glances at your swollen boyfriend as you both bounce around on the ceiling.
"Whatcha doing?" I asked Rob as I came home from work one day. He was intent on his laptop.
"Looking up some more ways to have fun," he replied, smiling as I kissed his forehead.
"You mean balloon time?"
"Yeah, they keep sneaking out new ways to turn anyone into a balloon."
I knew what he meant by "sneaking." Rob and I had met when his ex-roommate had made me the victim of an inflation. We'd gotten back at him and moved in together. When Rob had a little extra cash, he'd order some "inflatium" from a special website and we'd use it to inflate each other for bedroom games. It had some weird power to stretch a human body nearly infinitely as it filled them with gas. The gas could be expelled safely and the person would resume a normal form: no stretch marks, no signs of bloating. A litle went a long way!
We'd been doing this for a few years, and frankly, it was beginning to get a little old. We'd only go so big, and we'd often look like beach balls with heads, hands and feet, floating in the air. So, I'd suggested that maybe we try something new or just stick to good old, typical, man on man sex.
So, Rob had suggested a three way. Hitting up Grindr, we found this cute 21 year old twink named Justin who was totally up for inflating.
I almost thought it was a shame to inflate the kid. He'd kept in shape nicely and when we convinced him to inflate naked, I had to keep myself from sucking him off right there.
Justin laid down on the floor, and we put the hose in his mouth and began pumping. I'm not sure what happened, but his head inflated. It had never happened to me or Rob before. Justin had been lying there, looking like an underwear model (sans underwear), and suddenly, his head was a round six foot globe, the detail of his handsome face stretched across it. We stopped and pulled the hose out.
"Am I okay, guys?" he asked. His voice sounded like he had huffed helium, not that it had been that much different before.
"I think you inhaled wrong," Rob said. "I'm gonna try another way."
And uncerimoniously, the nozzle went up Justin's ass.
"You are buying a new one," I commented.
Justin's butt began to swell into two three-foot balloons before the gas began to move to the rest of his body. His six-pack abs and well-defined pecs disappeared into a flesh-colored curvature.
Rob shoved the nozzle deeper and Justin moaned. His arms and legs began to swell and disappear into his expanding body and even his cock and balls swelled up. Finally, he lifted a little off the ground, swollen hands and feet sticking out of a huge, swelled up body and head.
Rob didn't stop and I didn't want him to. Justin grew larger and soon his body was pressing against the floor and ceiling. Finally, Justin had almost filled the entire room, with a few feet around him from the walls, and that was when Rob stobbed and pulled out.
"All empty," he said. "Now for the real fun."
We were both really hard right then.
It was the most blissful experience of my life. For hours, we licked every inch of Justin's swollen body and massaged it. We took turns mounting his massive ass and rubbed our members against it. (There was no way we could actually penetrate it.) Finally, when we were exhausted, we tucked our bodies underneath Justin and fell asleep.
Justin was still filling up the room when we woke up and we realized we needed to get him back to normal and send him wherever he called home.
We had found a surpring trick for quick and safe deflation in our years of playing around: Alka-Seltzer. It soothed the upset stomach of a non-swollen person, but for someone who was bloated with inflatium, it reacted with the gas and caused it to leave the body quickly. We shoved one in Justin's mouth and he began to shrink back to his normal self.
"That was the hottest thing I've ever done!" he said over breakfast. "Can I bring my boyfriend next time?"
There was only one answer.
To spice up our sex life, Rob and I practically began dating another couple: Justin and Elvis. Elvis was a bit lankier than Justin, but it didn't matter. We'd find new combinations. Sometimes one of us would inflate and the other three would have fun, and sometimes it would be two on two. Me and Elvis inflating while Justin and Rob got to lick us off. And a few times, one of us would inflate the other three.
We didn't just inflate. We'd go to see a movie as a group and hit up bars, or go camping or hang out at a park. We just really liked being around each other. I guess you could say we're all in love with each other. I never thought meeting Rob would net me three boyfriends, much less one.
But anyway, yes, back to when I came home from work and Rob was looking at the new toys on his laptop.
"There's a new way to inflate," he told me, "and it's even cheaper than inflatium."
"How does it work?" I asked.
"It's a spray," he explained. "You spray it on the person you want to inflate, and it seeps into their pores, and puff! Ballooned for three hours! The more you spray, the bigger you get. Freddy, just think of the fun we could have with Elvis and Justin! All of us could inflate at the same time!"
"Order it," I said. Even more fun times were in store for all of us.
"Okay," Police officer Ned said, "what the hell happened?"
"Just Pride," I commented.
"I've seen Pride before," he spat. "Couple hundred homos in the square, playing their music and dancing drag queens with rainbows and glitter. A bit to clean up, gotta control some of the protesters, but... what the hell?"
What HAD happened?
Well, I was out with my three boyfriends for Pride. Yes, three: Rob, Justin and Elvis. After some time, we lived together, sleeping together, and yeah, even having sex together. We'd connected over a kink we liked: inflating our bodies for sex games. We used to pump each other up with a weird gas we bought on the internet, but we now had a new method.
We'd switched to a spray that would inflate a human body shortly on impact. We discovered that a lot of gay guys actually bought this stuff and would lightly inflate their butts with it. We would use it much more liberally, inflating mainly our torsos, but trying out other parts often, sometimes literally covering ourselves with it.
Sometimes we played a game where we would stand back to back, naked in our "fun room," and then spray ourselvses down, and see who'd be taking up the least space. The "loser" would usually be squeezed so tightly, he'd delate and then he'd actually get to play with the rest of our swollen bodies for three hours. So maybe he'd actually win.
There were three ways to deflate: external or internal pressue, popping some seltzer tablets, or just waiting for the spray to wear off in three hours.
Then they reworked the formula of the spray so your clothes would expand with you. We switched to that, and then get odd looks from the neighbors as they'd see three fabulous gay guys walking around with another one, swollen and floating in the air, being pulled around via a piece of string.
Then we decided to bring the fun to our town's Pride Fest. Rob and Justin would wear rainbow shirts, then we'd tie their ankles to lamp posts and spray them down. Voila, live Pride balloons that'd be sure to get some attention. Elvis and I would look offer to do this to anyone interested.
Even though I'd seen them inflate many times before, it always aroused me to see one my guys get big. We'd practiced lots of times and had even figured out how to shape our forms. A little on the head, a bit more on the neck and torso, and a mist on hands and feet, and you plump up to an almost perfectly round shape with a few bumps.
We got some gorgeous lesbians to agree, and we carefully treated them. Their faces swelled to smiling globes, then their bodies would expand and become perfectly round with their breasts swelling to the front. Their arms and legs disappeared inside their swollen bodies as their hands and feet grew to stubby nubs. The girls were troopers and looked fabulous. Lesbians are awesome.
But that was when things got out of hand.
"THIS IS AN ABOMINATION!" a voice shouted, and an old man carrying a sign reading "LEV. 18:22" ran up to me.
"Be filled with the spirit!" he shouted. "Not another man's sperm!"
Elvis jumped in and grabbed the old man's arm and sprayed his head. Within seconds, it became a round, air-filled balloon about three feet high. He began to lift a little off the ground. With a few more sprays, his head was practically ballooned to the size of a small hot air balloon, his face barely visible in the expanse of flesh. soon floating over the crowd before being caught in the wind and blown away.
I guess the other religious nuts had either noticed and kept back or had decided to just let us be. But the flight of the protestor had caused everyone to notice us.
Just about everyone asked what we'd done and where to get the spray, but most of them wanted a free sample. Drag queens wanted us to spray their chests to make them look like they had real breasts and just about every guy wanted a nice bubble butt or a bulge. Many of the more feminine lesbians also asked for chest sprays to make their breasts bigger or to make it so they didn't need to wear a bra. Even a couple drag kings asked for a groin spray so it'd look like they had something down there. We'd stocked up on the spray and had brought plenty, so we tried to obligie everyone. As the line dwindled as everyone returned to the festivities, we got a few grumpy gays who were tired of waiting in line.
"I want a badonkadonk," grunted a nearly-anorexic looking guy in a tight hot pink wife beater and cut off shorts. "Make it snappy."
He turned his ass towards me. I liberally sprayed it and watched as his butt swelled to the size of two beach balls.
"There," I said.
He tried to look behind him.
"That's not a badonkadonk," he said. "Spray it again."
I sighed. I'd wanted to have some fun at Pride, not stand around inflating drama queens. But I sprayed again.
"Bigger!" he cried as his ass grew bigger and tighter in his expanding shorts.
"You know what?" I said. "Fine."
I began to liberally spray his ass and soon it was lifting him off the ground.
"Stop it!" he shouted, turning upside down. "Stop spraying my ass!"
"Okay," I replied and sprayed him in the face three times. In a few moments, he could at least lean forward as his head was now six feet high as he floated in the air.
"Fucking stop!" he cried.
I probably should have, but I was getting carried away. I sprayed the rest of him and he puffed into a great big human balloon with a giant ass.
"What the fuck did you do to my Gregory?" the next guy in line asked.
It seemed the tail end of the line was a clique led by Gregory, the guy who was now struggling around in the air. It was about a half dozen or so, but it was just me and Elvis versus them.
We started spraying wildly at them, and they began plumping up in different ways. Some of them had huge hands or feet, while some had misshapen pecs or arms or legs or heads now.
"Come at us!" Elvis shouted. "We need more balloons for the Pride Parade!"
They moved in and we started spraying. We treated the grumpy gays with equality: they all got blown up to balloon size at our hands and floated with Gregory in the air. We looked at them and laughed. Believe me, a leather daddy who's suddenly a hairy, flesh-colored round ball with a lump for a head with a handlebar moustache floating in the air is one of the funniest things I've ever seen.
And that was when the police stopped us for disturbing the peace and we got arrested.
"So you're telling me that this spray turns people into balloons?" officer Ned asked. I'd of course told him the whole story. I just thought you might like to hear my side a bit better.
"Yeah," I replied. "You see my boyfriends here, Rob Jones and Justin Aps?"
Justin and Rob had started to sag a little but had been brought in for questioning with the rest of us.
"Okay, I admit that something happened to them," he said, "but a spray, that's bull!"
"You don't believe me?" I asked.
He grabbed the spray bottle with a look of pure annoyance and then liberally soaked himself with it.
"Look, nothing's happening!" he shouted as he sprayed.
And then he crushed the questioning table under his rapidly expanding mass. Elvis and I stood and held Rob and Justin towards us as we watched him grow from a fit police officer to a blimp inside a tiny room, nearly filling it. His face had expanded into a huge ball that was rapidly engulfed by the rest of his body which had lost almost all definition.
Pam the secretary opened the door to the office and shrieked.
"It's okay," Elvis said. "He just tested some evidence."
He picked up the spray bottle from the floor.
"I was just coming to tell him that your bail was just paid," said Pam. "Is he going to be okay?"
"It wears off in three hours," Rob said. "Or you could pop him some Alka-Seltzer if you got some."
Pam looked curiously at Rob.
"Who paid our bail?" Justin asked.
"It was the owner of that big gay bar on the square," Pam replied, and then resumed staring at Ned. "Rosa's, I think it's called?"
"So we can go?" I asked.
"Yeah, sure," she said. Then she bit her lip and muttered, "Maybe I can finally get him to notice me."
We walked out of the room and she walked in. I really hope she had fun.
There were still a few hours left at Pride when we got back and our lovely lesbian balloons were just coming down and went to go rejoin their girlfriends.
Gregory and his friends were still inflated and hanging around in mid-air.
The owner of Rosa's bar—a guy in his forties wearing a tight rainbow-striped tank top and skinny jeans—approached us.
"I don't blame you for what you did," he said. "Those guys are in my bar all the time and are pretty rude. They could use a put down."
We tied some cords to Gregory and his friends and gave them a "refresh mist," which just made them grow bigger. It was about time for the Pride parade to finish off PrideFest, and Elvis' taunt from earlier actually proved a good idea. We attached them to the few floats in the parade. They were definitely a big hit. After the parade, we left them tied up in the square. When they finally deflated, they could get themselves loose and go. We were told later that they still went to Rosa's, but were now a little better behaved.
After Pride, we were invited to a big party where we got dubbed "the Balloon Animals." It was just a fitting name as any. We didn't do any free samples at the party, we'd had enough of inflating for the day. But we gave our host—who happened to be one of our lovely lesbians—a bottle of the spray we hadn't opened. I hope she and her girlfriend have a blast!
"That was fun," I said as we headed home.
"Totally," Rob commented.
"I met a designer at the party," Justin said. "Next year, they'll hook us up with some spandex costumes so we look even better."
Elvis looked out the window of our car.
"You okay?" I asked.
"Yeah," he replied, "but I kind of miss using inflatium sometimes. The spray's fine, but I kind of liked the hoses."
"I like your hose," Justin cracked.
"I get what you mean," Rob said. "Sometimes, you like something going in. Maybe I should order some more for old times' sake."
Things were about to get wilder.
Three pairs of arms held me as I kissed three bare chests. My men.
"You are perfect," I said to all of them at once, and then laid next to Elvis on the beach.
We were vacationing in Monterey, California, and were relaxing on the very cool Asilomar beach. It was me, Freddy Newman, with my three boyfriends, Rob Jones, Elvis Aps, and Justin Fawcett. We were called "The Balloon Animals" back in St. Louis. It'd started out as a little kink and ballooned from there.
You see, I met Rob when he turned me into a balloon by filling me up with a gas, and we began dating. Looking to spice things up, we met Justin and made him our balloon toy for a night. He pulled in his boyfriend Elvis, and we realized that maybe a relationship didn't need to be just two people. We're all in love and regularly make inflation part of our relationship.
We came out as practicing body inflation experts at a Gay Pride event last year and found out that not only were a lot of people cool with it, they wanted to try it, too. So we set up a little business, passing on inflatium gas and spray to our fellow fetishists. We even filmed videos of us inflating and sucking each other off and distributed them.
I've sometimes wondered what the deal with this fetish is. I like men, so I guess I just like having more of them and feeling their tight, swollen bodies, moist with salty sweat, licking their sweet skin with my tongue. More man, more fun, I guess.
The increased cash flow going public gave us let us try new formulas of gas and sprays. One of our recent favorites made you swell up and become light, but you didn't float, which was useful. This, we called formula B. The standard one that made you float was formula A. We had a couple other formulas as well as some fun toys.
Some people wanted to know if you could explode by going too big. Seemingly, no. We once inflated a really kinky guy and he went so big he filled a football stadium. His body became a huge, round mass, but he just kept stretching and growing. He urged us to "pop" him with a knife, but somehow, it didn't make a nick. You'd deflate in three hours or quickly with some seltzer tablets or by being squeezed or forcing yourself to expel the gas.
And finally, we decided to take a vacation. We had promised ourselves no inflating while we were away, but we had still brought some formulas of gas and spray just in case we decided we wanted to have some fun.
So, that was how we'd wound up making out on Asilomar Beach. And at this particular time, our time of sweet love-making came to an abrupt end.
"Hey, homos!" we heard a high-pitchy, mawkish voice say.
"Fucking Gregory," muttered Elvis.
We looked up, and not far from us was Gregory, who'd we'd made a spectacle of at PrideFest last year. He was a ridiculously thin and flamboyant gay man. He had his bleached blonde hair in an updo and wore a tight red speedo that showed off a pretty average sized bulge and butt. The only other thing he wore was a pair of sunglasses with hot pink frames and purple lenses. He'd apparently hit a tanning salon and was bronzed and somehow, his body had a weird sheen to it that almost made him look like plastic.
"Hey, boys," he said, strutting over to us. "Having a bit of fun, I see."
"I have my hands full with these three," Justin said. "There's no room for more."
"It's cool," he said, sitting in the sand across from us. "I don't want you guys. But I think you do owe me something."
"What do you want?" I asked, rolling my eyes.
"Well," he said, "the way I figure, you guys got started in your business thanks to me."
"Yeah, right," scoffed Rob.
"You turned me into a big, fat blimp and paraded me down the street. Then you start making money hand over fist. I think I'm owed a cut for promotion."
"What about your other friends?" asked Elvis as I rubbed his leg. "Do they get a cut too?"
"I don't give a shit about them. They can go blow themselves."
"Go blow yourself," Justin repeated. "That'd be a great slogan! Pay the man a million!"
"I just need my cut," Gregory insisted.
Something about Gregory's story didn't sit right.
"So, why didn't you try to contact us before?"
He rolled his eyes.
"I have a reputation to keep," he said.
"Seems pretty intense to follow us out to California," I commented. "Phones exist, you know. So do lawyers."
"Yeah, but the court's still out on what it means to suddenly turn someone into the Goodyear blimp."
"Are you sure you didn't have any fun?" Elvis taunted. "As I remember, a good number of your friends eventually bought some spray from us."
"Yeah, well, Gregory doesn't need those bitches," he said.
"I think you liked it," Elvis went on. "You liked it and now you want to pretend you didn't. Now you sneak out here where we're alone so you can get another shot in peace."
Gregory's face flashed red, and I noticed his speedo had gotten a bit tighter.
"I think you're right, Elvis," I said. I whispered an idea to my guys.
"Okay, let's make you a deal," Rob said at last. "You can be our balloon boy toy for today and we'll give you a nice fee."
Gregory thought a moment.
"Fine," he said. "Just not a word of this back in St. Louis, okay?"
"Sure," Rob replied. "But we're gonna have a lot of fun, Gregory. I got a whole bunch of new formulas and I just want to test them out."
"I thought we'd just packed the basics?" I asked.
"I got excited," Rob explained, getting up and walking over to his bag. "Since we were going to the beach, I mixed up something special."
He took out a spray bottle. It had a label marked "Formula B + Additive S + Additive C."
"What does that do?" asked Gregory, but Rob quickly sprayed it on him. In a few seconds, he'd turned into a slick, perfectly round, human sized beach ball and his sunglasses fell off. Rob explained it was due to Additive C, which made sure the sprayed person would be perfectly round.
"What does Additive S do, though?" asked Elvis, wonderingly, but we soon saw. Gregory's five foot spherical body shrunk to about three feet.
"It shrinks inflated people a bit," Rob went on, "for when you want your balloon boy in a more portable size."
"Sweet!" Justin cheered and picked up Gregory, who hadn't said anything because his face had rolled into the sand. Balancing Gregory's butt on his left hand, he spun our boy toy around, letting us see his detail. It was as if he'd inflated inside a mold and had filled it out perfectly. His face looked just about the same as it did, except it looked shoved into his shoulders. His arms seemed pinned to the side, and his chest was round and smooth, though we could still see his nipples. His speedo was stretched around his inflated buttocks.
"Oh, god, what did I sign on for?" Gregory moaned.
"Play ball!" Justin shouted and tossed Gregory to me. I caught him and passed him on to Elvis, who passed him on to Rob, who suggested we try beach volleyball. This plan was approved by all, except Gregory, which just made it more fun. Gregory barely touched the ground as we kept tossing him over to each other or hitting him back to the other team.
By the time the spray wore off Gregory and he resumed his normal size and shape, we decided to go to lunch. Gregory complained of being a little sore, but was none the worse for wear.
"Hey, why don't you come with us?" Justin asked Gregory.
"Yeah, don't let our boy toy get away," Rob added. "The fun's only just started."
Gregory rolled his eyes and came to lunch with us. As we ate, Justin prodded him with questions about how he'd been doing since our last run-in. He revealed that he and his boyfriend had broken up shortly after we'd met him, and he'd just been having various flings since.
After lunch, we went to our suite. Our boy toy stripped naked and laid between the two beds. Using inflatium gas, Rob inflated Gregory through his ass, penetrating deeply into the expanding buttocks. His belly and butt swelled up and nearly filled the room, conturing around the beds and furniture.
Rob handed us all plastic adhesive strips, and then then put one around his penis which then inflated to a massive size. Quietly, he mounted Gregory and slowly penetrated the bloated buttocks with his huge cock and began thrusting.
"I have always wanted to try this," he moaned.
We all began licking Gregory's huge body and took turns with Gregory's ass. Using the strips was fun, but we couldn't ejaculate while using them, whether we were fucking Gregory or prodding his body. His head hadn't inflated much, so we couldn't try forcing our pricks into his mouth. I personally decided I'd never use the strips again. Rob and Elvis seemed to like them, while Justin eventually removed his, deflating his cock to a normal size and began rubbing himself against the huge butt.
We kept at it until Gregory deflated. The three hours had gone by quickly, and Justin found himself still grinding against our boy toy. We decided to let him have some time to himself, but told him to be back at our room by nine at night for our last round.
At dinner, Justin had a few questions.
"Are you sure we're doing right by Gregory?" he asked.
"He agreed to it," Rob replied.
"Yeah," Justin went on, "but you're practically testing everything on him. Dick inflators, shrinking solution, and I've never seen you go that deep while inflating any of us through the ass."
"Yeah, but he's kind of a jerk," I added.
"I don't know," Justin said. "He doesn't seem to be having much fun."
"He'll get paid," Rob replied. "Then he'll be fine."
At nine, Gregory arrived, silently, and allowed Rob to try a new formula on him. After he was nude, Rob sprayed him down with a bottle marked Formula C. We soon saw what this did.
Gregory's torso and limbs each swelled to three feet around and began stretching. His head inflated in a comical manner, swelling to about five feet around. After the swelling stopped, he looked for all the world like a tube-shaped balloon that you'd see twisted into fun shapes, just with arms and legs, a big head, and a nice, round butt.
"Come on," he said, "get it over with."
Rob stepped forward and showed us that Gregory was every bit as flexible as one of those toy balloons, twisting his arm until it looked like it had separated into another balloon. Working together, we twisted him into as many forms as we could, which wasn't many. After "balloon dog," there really wasn't much else.
I had an idea: I grabbed his leg, and twisted it in the middle. I folded it back up and put my penis inbetween the folds, thrusting. Rob and Elvis picked up on this. Justin seemed content to rub Gregory's butt.
I don't remember when we fell asleep, because whenever we were done with our boy toy, we fell exhausted into our beds. But when we awoke in the morning, we were greeted with a surprise.
Elvis had fallen asleep between me and Rob on one bed, making for a snug fit. On the other bed, Justin lay with Gregory, taking the "big spoon" position. They were both naked, and I could gather that they had had sex during the night.
Elvis got up and shook them awake.
"What did you do, Justin?" he asked.
The two woke and rubbed their eyes.
"Huh?" Gregory asked.
"DID YOU FUCK MY BOYFRIEND?" Elvis demanded.
"Oh, no," was the reply. "But he sure fucked me good."
"What the hell is going on?" I asked.
"I'm sick of this," Justin said. "Yeah, Gregory was a dick at Pride. But now you guys were all being dicks to him. He's alone, his boyfriend and friends left him, and now you want me to go along with you and keep treating him as if he's below us? Fuck that. Yeah, he agreed to be our boy toy, but I feel like we stepped over a line.
"Rob, all you saw in Gregory was a guinea pig for your inflating fetish. And Freddy, you and Elvis just went along with it so you could fuck. It's like I saw your true colors at last."
"What are you saying?" Rob asked, stroking his soul patch.
"I'm out," Justin said. "I'm breaking up with all three of you, and I'm going with Gregory. No more inflating, no more treating someone like shit because you're gonna pay them. I just can't do that."
With that, the two got out of bed and reached for their clothes. Justin had been living out of a duffel bag since we'd arrived, and he picked it up and left silently with Gregory.
Back in St. Louis, we resumed business. Yes, we paid Gregory a nice fee, but without Justin, things just never felt the same again.
Justin and Gregory moved to Illinois together and despite our breakup, we'd still see them from time to time. Justin seemed to bring Gregory a little more down to earth, and I had to admit, they made a nice couple. We kept up on Facebook and in a couple years, they got married and invited Elvis and I to the wedding.
They would have invited Rob, but that was quite impossible. However, that's another story.
"FETISH GAS BANNED FROM PUBLIC SALE."
I was surprised at this article I'd found online. My boyfriend Rob and I and my other boyfriend Elvis had been using inflatium for years to inflate ourselves into various bloated forms for fun and sex. Now the government was banning it from being distributed to the public. Not only could we not get new supplies, we couldn't resell it to our fellow fetishists, who would have to make do with those silly inflatable costumes now.
Now, I suppose the aesthetic of a person with an inflated body is enough for some people, but after you've done what I've done and lovingly touched and licked and fucked the bloated flesh of an inflated person, there would be no comparision.
There wasn't a detailed explanation as to why inflatium gas and spray could no longer be distributed. I guessed that maybe it was being seized and reformulated into a helium substitute, which is in short supply. Others claimed it was because the government deemed that it had no beneficial use, which doesn't seem right, because if that was true, why on earth are pickled pig's feet a thing? Maybe the FDA decided it wasn't safe. I guess it could be considered a drug, since it makes the body act in a different way.
Maybe we had ourselves to blame after blowing up a bunch of people at PrideFest and a cop turning himself into a blimp in a questioning room, but they were okay with it in the end, and he did it to himself.
"What the fuck do we do?" Rob asked angrily. "I was having so much fun with this and I have gallons of Formula A."
Formula A was the type of gas or spray (we were out of gas, forever it seemed) that made you float in the air as you inflated. If you were wearing clothes, they'd stretch with you.
"It's fine," Elvis said. "We just use the stuff sparingly and find other ways to have fun. We've got enough money to keep us set for awhile, so if we're smart, we'll be fine."
"Why should the government get involved at all?" Rob went on. "Inflatium has never hurt anyone."
"What about that old guy from PrideFest?" I asked.
"He was a homophobe, and he landed in a tree, big deal."
Yeah, about that. It had taken awhile, but that old guy who'd protested us had sued and we'd barely gotten off with a self-defense claim. But that had raised the awareness of Inflatium from something practicing fetishists used to some strange substance people were aware of.
"It's probably just being regulated," I went on. "The ban's probably temporary."
"Yeah," Rob replied, "and the bans on marijuana are just probably temporary as well."
"Well—" Elvis began, but Rob shot him a look.
"We should protest!" Rob declared.
"Look, Rob," I said, "I understand why you're upset, but we should make inquiries before doing anything rash."
"Rash?" he shouted. "They took away our business with this!"
"Look," I said, "we should try to work with the government on this instead of just fighting them. We've done lots of tests and experiments and we can—"
"We can get them to laugh in our face!" he went on. "I'm going to Maryland to let them know what's going on! And you can come or stay!"
Sometimes I wish I'd gone with Rob to Maryland. That was the last time I ever saw him: the day our once happy quartet had finally dwindled down to a pair: just me and Elvis. Elvis' ex-boyfriend Justin had once been a part of our group, but he'd left us during a vacation and had become involved with another man. We were still friends, but no longer together. I realize why Justin had left now, and what he'd recognized.
Rob was manipulative, ready to use other people. I felt silly when I realized this. The first time I'd met him, he'd turned me into a balloon against my will. I wanted a man to share my life with, and when I had three, it was incredible how we'd made it work. But Rob saw us more as his guinea pigs and balloon sluts.
After Justin had left, the relationship between the rest of us became a little clearer. I decided to focus my energies on my two remaining partners, but as Elvis and I grew closer, Rob pulled away. He suggested we get more guys in, and he'd try to check out guys wherever he went, asking us what we thought guys would look like inflated.
As I said, I didn't go to Maryland with Rob, and he seemed fine. He could take the car and fill up the seats with the rest of his liquid inflatium for sprays. Elvis and I kissed him goodbye and he drove off. From what we gathered from witnesses and other sources, here's what I believe happened to Rob:
He got into the FDA headquarters by using the spray bottles. If a security guard stopped him, he'd quickly spray them with his bottles. In a few seconds, the guard would be swelling up into a perfect sphere and floating into the air, or filling up the room if they were still inside.
Finally, he found the guy who'd taken the inflatium case, Nathan Burkoff. Forcing Nathan into the courtyard of the headquarters, Rob sprayed him with a spray and in seconds, his belly inflated, he grew fatter and his face and head swelled. In a minute, Nathan was floating three feet off the air, a 10 foot high round ball with a large lump for a head with swollen hands and feet.
"This is what inflatium does!" Rob declared. "We are beautiful and we are sexy! And we can get bigger!"
I'm not sure how, but Rob had found a couple assistants who then proceeded to take the rest of the inflatium liquid he had and dousing him with it over and over. Rob's body expanded to inhuman proportions as he lost all definition to his body, just becoming a huge, huge balloon of expanding flesh with a face and hair on it. His clothes had torn off within seconds.
Rob filled up the courtyard, pressing everyone to the ground. Nathan Burkoff was squeezed and his body forced out the gas.
But Rob kept growing. He was soon larger than the entire campus and began to lift in the air, but he kept getting more and more massive and soon he blotted out the sun over the two counties. But yet he kept growing and rising into the air.
And finally, we discovered that there was a limit to how much inflatium you could take. With a huge rumbling like thunder, Rob's body ruptured and flew in all directions.
And that was how he died.
Elvis and I attended the memorial service. We heard how Rob had always been a wistful kid and had often kept to himself. It seemed strange that he died by making the biggest spectacle anyone had ever seen around the FDA.
Elvis and I have stayed together. I realized I just liked being with him and that we enriched each other's lives now that inflation was out of the way. We took the time and just decided to live like an ordinary, everyday gay couple. We aren't opposed to having an open relationship, but we decided to just keep it to the two of us for now.
As it turned out, our break from inflation was temporary. The FDA eventually classed inflatium as a generally non-harmful drug. They allowed the spray (or "mist" as they classed it) to be distributed to the public with a specific usage limit and stipulated that it must be used with a license and only in a controlled environment.
What this meant is that Elvis and I and a few of our old customers set up an inflation house we called Balloon Animals where people could inflate for or with their friends or partners. Elvis and I are only investors, we do not own or run the place, but we do go in for a mist sometimes. Elvis is a beautiful man, inflated or not, and he says he loves me either way, and so we're fine with each other.
Still, I really wish Rob had embraced us instead of obsessing over his fetish. If he'd realized he was enjoying those he loved as he inflated us, maybe he would have had more fun or still even be alive today.
So long, balloon boy.