These topics always seemed fun! That and I think such generous writers as Zel may like the pressure taken off of them a little (pun intended).
Step right up! Please know however, while I can attempt to write for female inflation I'm more adept at writing for male balloons.
Leave your gender and whatever method you would prefer in your post, happy swelling.
Hi i am male.6 ft 4.medium bulid,i love to be inflated either by helium or air forcefully,or by the use of my cock
Hi i am male.6 ft 4.medium bulid,i love to be inflated either by helium or air forcefully with the hose up my ass,or by inflating me by mouth using my cock
As you arrived in the illustrious club waiting room, an enthused woman took your details and matched your name to the database. "Username Inflatable... slut", she spoke your name with a hint of confusion; which gave way to a bemused grin. "Your appointment is scheduled to begin in five minutes, I'd hurry if I were you", she teased. "Your inflators are in rather high demand".
She gave you directions and a membership card, printed on one side was a stylized bike-pump; on the other a round caricature of a human male, or female, depending on which way the card was tilted in the light.
Room 80. You opened the unassuming looking door to be greeted by two people. A gorgeous buxom blonde and a tan chiselled man, both in their twenties, both were wielding a hose and a bright red box with a plunger. They enticed you towards them, and then got to work straight away without any introduction. With a username like Inflatable Slut, it was a given you had serviced the club in the past.
The man slid the nozzle down past your jeans through your underwear and into your rear entry, while the woman used her much more delicate silver-rimmed hose and fed it into your member. Together they pumped; and pumped; and pumped.
They lifted and depressed the plunger in sequence, giving you a warm feeling of erotic tension in waves. Over and over until your tall trim body was lost to a more rounded shape. Your arms and legs becoming tubular balloons against that round blimp of a middle, which surged outwards, destroying your expensive looking clothing. Even as you bobbed in the air, your ballooned body throbbing for release, they kept pumping... until you climaxed; deflating back to your regular state as undulating waves of pleasure brought you back down to the ground.
They gave you a replacement set of clothes; unplugged you; and sent you on your way. You would be back.
ok but you wont forget me,i cant stop reading it over and over its that good
Howdy ho, I figured I'd stop by here and support the thread lol
I still haven't given up on the one I starte. Recent job's just been taking a lot of my time. Gad to see someone else doing on though :3
So, heres goes nothing. Around 5'11, short black hair with glasses. Mostly slim. Fan of both belly and cock expansion, and my favorite typeis water, though i'll leave th emethod up to you
Zeltreck had entered the competition in a pair of plain black shorts that came down to the knees, a grey leather belt, comfortable shoes of the same colour; and a broad white t-shirt depicting a large artistically rendered explosion. He reflected on how fitting his illustrated shirt would be once the contest was underway, then smirked and adjusted his glasses.
It was a wet t-shirt competition. An unusual choice for such a trim unassuming male. He knew. Which made the scheme all the more amusing, Zeltreck's time as a writer of inflato-fiction had given him a backlog of ideas; and a thirst to see them enacted.
"Aaaaaaand go, ladies and gentlemen!"
Perky young women and bronze-tanned young man took to the stage with hose in hand, dousing their crisp white shirts and tank tops until they almost ran clear and revealed their upper bodies to the roudy audience.
Zeltreck surprised everybody and stuck the hose between his lips, then dismounted the stage and proceeded toward the venue's water supply. With a deft pair of hands, he turned every other contestants hose off; drying up the nozzles; so that when he turned the valve that controlled his own supply... he received more than enough to begin his blimping panic.
An overpowering surge of pressure winded him, bending him over to clutch his flat stomach with his hand. Only it wasn't so flat. Bulges of expanding belly and white shirt pushed his fingers apart, then forced his entire arm outwards as his washboard stomach had morphed into a semi-perfect sphere; and then his arm was forced away entirely as his rapid bloating had spread to his entire middle.
All twelve fellow contestants turned their head in sequence, their fabulously tanned - and suspiciously uniform - faces aghast at the sight of the young man's almost instant transformation into a balloon. They scrambled off the stage like panicked blonde dogs fighting for space, just in time to escape its destruction by Zeltreck's growing form smashing into the wooden platform.
Because the pressure was so great and the water was pumping into him so quickly, Zel knew he wouldn't be able to reach a godzilla-esque size; this time. In fact he was already feeling the pressure challenge his elastic body, the explosion painted across his t-shirt now deformed from over-stretching the fabric. It gave way with a single tear, that became several, then exploded off of his tightening body.
"He's gonna blow"!
That declaration of self-destruction made Zeltreck smile.
His belt was blown away by his blimping body; his shorts tore to reveal a pair of rubbery underwear. He wanted to keep his decency for as long as he could!
Zeltreck's cheeks slowly began to swell and block his vision when the water found it difficult to find room in his expanding gut, his feet, legs, hands and extremities had all swollen as a result of that problem too. His cheeks grew and grew, until they pressed and cracked the lenses of his black-rimmed glasses. He could no longer see, only -feel- the pressure, of which there seemed to be no end.
The pressure forced water to dribble down his bulbous cheeks and over the gigantic curve of his 25ft body. Water leaked from anywhere it could, Zel only bulged by inches, throbbing like a balloon being prepared for a water fight. And just like a balloon... he creaaaaaaaaked. His underwear snapped, rendering him naked. He creeeeeeeaked. One last push of water came from the hose. KABOOM!
Lovely work good sir, you certintally have a better talent for this then I do lol
Awesome job at doing this and thank you!
Around 6ft, male, tall and lanky build. I'd prefer either blueberry or air inflation with me floating, and I'm really into popping!
9:00PM, the "Blue Amazon" Jungle, Planet #3345
Steve flipped the third switch of his MK.II explorer-module, transforming it into a laser-aided cutting device. He slashed his way through an overgrowth of luminous blue vines, that unfortunately splattered his expensive new uniform with juices of the same colour.
"Ah great", he said frustratedly. Transforming the MK.II again, into a ray-gun like apparatus. He aimed it at the juices then spoke aloud the command: "Purge foreign agents", vaporizing the space-vine-juice with no harm to himself in a ray of white light.
Going on safari on an alien planet sounded exciting, before you got there. The company produced landing site had been the best part of exploring this thick dense overgrowth.
He had lost his guides some ways back; his food supply; his water supply. Now the only home commodities he had were his MK.II and his tight khaki explorers uniform.
"Ouch", he exclaimed, he felt something cut into his left hand.
When he turned to look, he noticed a strange glowing barb. Then he felt... tight, his hand felt tight, like rubber. Turning to look at his hand, the cut had already healed and the blood was a curious shade between red and blue. At that moment his MK.II began to flash, and in a loud alarming voice shouted: "Danger, danger, rapid buildup of foreign material within user"!
The blue consumed Steve's hand, then traveled up his arm. He quickly unzipped and threw off his upper-body uniform, horrified that it had now moved to colour his entire upper body! He felt it creep up his neck and down past his crotch. Then he heard a horrible hissing noise.
Hisssssssssssss~
In panic he cried out "purge foreign materials", and his MK.II obeyed. It did nothing but agitate whatever was causing this strange transformation, it also intensified the hissing in his body.
The hand that was originally infected ballooned out like an air filled glove, then his arm followed suit. His entire body followed suit! He. Was. Ballooning. A bright blue balloon, busting out of his clothes.
His body's grip on the jungle floor became inert as he began to float, now beginning to round out like a parade balloon on too much helium. He floated up, helpless, being scratched by more iridescent barbs as he climbed upwards and upwards... by the time he broke the canopy; the shadow he cast on the moonlit planet was so gargantuan; he thought "I must be... at least... fifty, no, sixty fee--" Hisssssss---
Air began to leak from his open mouth, preventing him from speaking. Without the distraction of his own panicked voice, he began to calm. Somehow. Despite being a rapidly growing blimp-man certain for a trip into the sky, he was calming.
His new position let him gaze down at the alien jungle he was cursing, allowing him to appreciate it.
The pressure was building, with it a subtle pleasure, that soon built into an urge to pop. Suddenly the MK.II exclaimed from the jungle floor: "Warning, warning, substance contains psyche altering properties"!
But it was too late. Now Steve -wanted- to keep inflating, to keep ballooning. He closed his mouth to prevent the leakage of air and became a perfectly round balloon, unable to move or speak or do anything other than pop.
And pop he did.
As he reached his apex, he let out a satisfied inner moan and... went KABOOOOOOOOOOM!
The other safar-goers were treated to a tremendous fireworks display that night.
Nice I'm 6'1" male short brown hair medium build. I prefer blueberry inflation and humiliation
When you signed up for product testing, this was "not" what you had in mind.
Stripped down to your underwear with a bright white "17" painted on your stomach.
You stood there, ready for testing, moving along the dull grey and silver conveyor belt to stop in front of a team of people - safely behind glass - wearing lab coats. The lab coats meant they were scientific! You hoped.
A metal clamp descended and presented you with a non-descript looking pill, oh and a glass of water. They were thoughtful at least, dry-swallowing pills was uncomfortable. You took the glass and downed the pill, then felt the reaction begin straight away. A gurgling in your gut; your skin turning blue; you had seen it all before... browsing the internet with a strange fetish - it had desensitized you to the weird and unusual.
Nothing was capable of preparing you for the experience however. You let out a gasp, then began to swell! You felt yourself grow wider, wider, bigger, rounder, blue-er? Your gut plumped out; your back too; turning you into a bright blue sphere! Juice leaking, the pressure mounting, your number 17 stretched like a tattoo originally made for a smaller man.
The scientists let out gleefull giggles and began pointing, laughing at the blueberry you had become. Through the glass you made out one of their words "pop", which set you into a frenzy. "No, wait!" You called, only growing fuller and fuller; you winced at the mounting pressure.
"Don't pop me, I didn't sign up for this"!
Your calls only made the team laugh harder as they watched you swell into enourmity, they weren't going to stop!
"Please I don't want to burst"!
Right on the edge, before you blew into a thousand juicy pieces, the pressure died down and you deflated... humilliated and still blue. Then you moved along the conveyor belt, number 18 took your place.
Thank you for taking the time to contribute your efforts. It's so nice to have threads like these. I wish there were more threads based around inflation hypotheticals.
Anyway, I'm a 5'6, skinny male with wavy blond hair. I like blueberry inflation and I'm all about popping. I don't mind if it gets explicit, but that's up to you.
In these tough economic times, we all need to make compromises. Your compromise, however, was slightly more self-serving than others.
The premise for making money was simple. You were taken into a room, where a white-robed man stood wearing a gas mask. A little over-the-top, you thought, a labcoat would have sufficed to prove his authenticity. He looked at you and took your details. Male, slender, hair colour and height. All seemed sufficient, or you guessed they were as the white phantom showed no emotions in his body language, his face guarded.
The white room shifted and changed at the man's command, a button forming on the far wall along with two black bars on the adjacent ceiling.
He walked up to you and quite promptly injected you with a serum, from a cruel looking needle-gun. Your skin instantly turned blue, you expected this, it was in the sign-up pamphlet.
Only when the man approached the far wall and created a door for himself, did he finally speak in a voice heavily warped by his mask. "If you manage to resist, the payment is yours; if you succumb, you enter a contract at our facility for one year. You are now capable of making an informed decision, proceed at your discretion", and with that the door he created vanished. Leaving you to begin.
Quickly you pressed the button, unfearing what came next. The two bars above you filled. The left flashed "$1,000"; the right filled with blue.
You mirrored that bar, your small compact body losing its shape as you suddenly rounded out with - what you assumed, hoped - was juice. As the concept of the test sunk in, you pressed again. "$2,000"; the blue filled. As the money you were promised doubled, so too did the juice. You struggled to remain on your feet as your stomach became heavy and bloated, taut with blue-purple juice.
Ponderous if two grand would be enough to get you back on your feet, you stroked your round plump middle. It felt good. You pressed again only wanting to see how much better your body would feel with another induction of juice, the money-building a secondary goal.
It hit you hard, you blew up with the suddeness of a rubber band releasing its tension in a snap-instant. You let out an involuntary moan, and reached for the button; then glared daggers at the wall. Your body was too spherical, your arm too fat and bloated to reach. So you used your head, litteraly. Headbutting the button you amassed eight grand and became large enough to fill a quarter of the room.
"Uuuugh"... you moaned, trying to recall the white-robed man's warning. Nothing came of it. You slammed the button.
Sixteen grand, thirty two, sixty four... fuck the money you wanted the juice.
Rolling forward you pressed your swelling form to the button, keeping it held. You were unsure if this strategy would work as you thought the button might operate on repeated activations, but that uncertainty broke under the explosive pressure and exciting pleasure that was pumping your body full to the gills!
More, and more, and more. Your thighs smooshed together; your arms grew fat and tubular; your extremities fattened and unuseable. Bigger and bigger; bigger and bigger. You fucking exploded in size! Half of the room! Three quarters! The room!
Your ass became two shaking blue spheres; your stomach a quivering blue timebomb. You didn't need any money, not when this felt so good. The pleasure infiltrated your mind and broke you, you just wanted to fucking -blow-.
Your body strained; the room strained with it. The individual cubes used to create - what you considered - your prison began to come apart, the amount of juice leaking from you had created a pool up to your navel.
"Aaaaaaaaah..." you cried, broken and wanting.
-KASPLOOOOOOOOOSH-
Thank you very much! That was longer than I anticipated, but I'm certainly not complaining!
Male 5'11" average build.
I'm all about inflation with a cartoonish flair. Finding myself in an odd situation where i'm blown up like a balloon and then somehow get deflated flying around all over.
"And now the race is about to begin, inflators, on your marks"!
You leant forward, butt in the air, upper body crouched to the ground. Your pit crew placed the temporary bindings on you, then turned up the pressure.
This was the two hundred metre dash. The goal was simple. Inflate as big as you can, then use the subsequent deflation to propell yourself in a straight line across the pitch.
Your pit crew plugged you into the hose, if you had any objections to the competition, you could no longer speak them. Cold air entered your mouth, then into your rubbery brightly-coloured body. They helpfully lowered your goggles, before your inflating cheeks made it impossible to approach your face.
Bang! Unfortunately one of the other racers went too far in their pre-race inflations and burst into rubbery scraps, leaving only their shoes behind. Their crew gathered up the tatters, removing them from the pitch. When the racer re-formed, they would feel rather embarassed about popping in front of at least two million race-goers.
You pushed the thought of losing from your mind, focusing on your own elasticy. Your body blew up, becoming incredibly fat and balloon like. Your crew kept going until your cheeks went pink from the strain; and you felt ready to pop. You needed the extra pressure to win!
The referee - an enourmous round man in white and black stripes - raised the starting gun, then began to count down. Your restraints were released, your crew aimed your comically overinflated rear at the finish line.
"Three", another racer went POW from the race-prep.
"Two", rubbery creaks eminated from all racers.
"One", hisssssss... the hoses were released; all racers held their breath.
"GO!" Whizzzzzzzz...
In one of the strangest and most bizzare spectacles on Earth, the nine remaining racers exhaled enourmous quantities of air from their mouthes and shot towards the finish line! Some were unexperienced and went spiraling into the sky; some had tried to cheat using experimental gasses and exploded on the track; some crashed into the stands.
You, on the other hand, were in control. You flew straight as an arrow, deflating as you went... AND WON!
These are great! Thank you so much for doing these!
I'm male, tall and slim build. I prefer blueberry inflation in a public place with some humilation andn rolling. Also I'm into popping!
These are awesome. Not into poppin persay but i love being made into a sphere, not huge, think sorta like original violet. being teased and inflated by hand is best. air or water.
I've never posted on these forums before, but I guess I could start now.
I'm male, 5'8", average build, brown wavey hair. I like helium inflation via the mouth (unoriginal, I'm sorry), very shy but willing, and I'm not a fan of popping (if that's ok with you).
Damn...forgot to add that I prefer belly inflation.
Hey :),any chance of another one please id love to be force inflated using my cock
well, why the hell not
male 5,8 large ish build [280 pounds] brown hair, blue eyes, and like all kinds of expansion, and likes being 'domanted' by females and teased >//>
All these are really good!! Might as well join in on the fun!
male medium buildish, and i'd prefer air inflation with either full body inflation or huge belly inflation. not so into popping, like enjoy being fully inflated!
These are awesome! Such a fan. Maybe give one a try for me? I'm male, average build. i really enjoy air/helium inflation and the concept of possibly being an almost hot air balloon to carry people. Completely willing subject.
Oooooh...what the shit, why not.
I'm a guy, 5'11 with medium-length brown hair and glasses.
I'm into silly, tame, and non-sexually explicit air or helium inflation with no bursting. Think Space Jam, or Roger Rabbit. The more cartoonish, the better!
So. Are you a bad enough dude?
Ooh I'd love one! I'm male, 5'11", pretty chubby already. I would love to be force fattened please, but no popping or sexual themes. :3
Hi
Can you give me a go please?
I'm male but perfered to be female. I'm into japanese schoolgirl inflation with button popping and clothes bursting.
Can a evil twin inflate me with helium until I'm in my underware and humiliate me by grabbing my long hair and walk around the school until she pops me with a kitching knife.
My looks are the shy skinny girl with glasses, wearing a blouse and skirt combo.
Thanks
Inflatingclothes
Hi i am male.6 ft 4.medium bulid,i love to be inflated either by helium or air forcefully,or by the use of my cock