Biggest Liar, The

Inflation Types:
Date Written: 

(or, “Lies, Damn Lies, and Balloons”)

And when he opened the door, he saw a witch with a clipboard.

At least, he deduced it was a witch from her wide-brimmed black cone hat and the broomstick she had leaned against the guardrail. Otherwise, she seemed young compared the witches of legend. Her skin wasn’t green with warts but porcelain and flawless, save for the freckles. Her hair wasn’t gray but a long, straight and shiny red. She wore a skin-tight black leather outfit showing a healthy amount of cleavage, complete with high-heeled boots, and he placed her in her late teens or early twenties.

“Bevis comma A?” she said, not looking up from her clipboard.

Axtell Bevis paused for a moment. “Sorry?” he asked, not looking up from her cleavage.

“Bevis comma A?” she repeated.

“Uh, yes?”

“Age 18?”


“Birthday 7/4/95?”


“Wallington High School senior?”


She finally looked up at him, putting the clipboard under her arm. “Well, then, Mr. Bevis, you’re whom I’m looking for.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“You won’t be,” she said matter-of-factly. “Seems that you’ve been telling lies about some powerful people at your school. I’m Alea, and I’m here to provide some ironic punishment.”

“I think you got the wrong person,” he told her.

“We’ve been through that already,” she pointed out, “and that’s just what a liar would say.”

She began waving her finger in the air, darting about in front of his face. Axtell looked bemusedly her odd gestures before giving up and returning to her cleavage. Alea continued with the odd finger movements before closing with a double five-finger flick at his face. “There, you’re cursed.”

“You don’t say. And that’s all there is to it?” He waved his fingers in the air mockingly.

“Actually, all I had to do was look at you,” she explained. “I just find people expect a show.”

“So what’s the curse?” he asked, still grinning.

“Every time you tell a lie, you’ll inflate like a balloon,” she said simply. “Tell too many lies, and …” She puffed out her cheeks and let it out suddenly, mimicking an explosion, again using her hands to accentuate the point. “Poof!”

Axtell really didn’t know how to respond to that. There was a pregnant pause before he settled on, “Huh.”

Alea held the clipboard in front of her hips, school-girl style, bent her right knee slightly, and gave her head a tilt, peering at him with her lovely, big green eyes. “So,” she said, “have you been staring at my cleavage this whole time?”

“Um, no.”

Long pause.

Alea frowned. “You didn’t inflate.”

“Imagine that.”

“Let’s try another approach: Are you planning to think about me the next time you play with yourself?”

Axtell blushed as his eyes darted about. “I—I don’t do that sort of thing!”

Another long pause as Alea regarded him. Still nothing happened.

“Damn it!” she said, looking again at her clipboard. “Look, there’s obviously been some kind of screw-up, because I’m sure I cursed you. I’ll get back to you.”

“By all means,” he said lustfully.

Alea made an exasperated noise, grabbed her broomstick, and walked away from the house. Axtell’s eyes followed her tight ass the entire way, as she walked off the porch, down the walkway and to the sidewalk.

She turned abruptly, catching his gaze. “Were you just staring at my bum just then?”

“Uh, no!”

Long pause. Nothing happened.

“Damn it!” she cursed again. Then she put the broomstick between her long, slender legs. She and the broomstick lifted straight up into the air before shooting into the bright blue sky like a bullet, disappearing in an eyeblink.

Axtell stood there for several seconds, long after Alea was no longer in sight, trying to process what he had just seen.

“Huh,” he finally concluded, and he went back inside.

His sister Angela sat chewing gum on the couch in front of the telly, her stocking feet on the coffee table, her bottom half tightly squeezed into form-fitting jeans, her arms limp across her well-developed chest. She blew a bubble, popping it on her nose as Axtell entered the lounge.

Angela peeled off the gum and stuck it back into her full-lipped mouth. “So who was at the door?” she asked, without turning away from the telly.

“It was a witch,” Axtell told her simply.


“She said she put a curse on me.”

“Fancy that.”

“She said that every time I tell a lie, I’ll blow up like a balloon.”

“Serves you right.”

“And then she got on her broom and ZOOM!” He raised a palm into the air. “She shot into the sky and disappeared.”


“You don’t believe me.”

“No, no,” Angela said, “I believe you.”


At that moment, Axtell’s belly blew up from under his shirt.

“What the bloody ‘ell?!” he shouted, looking at his distended midsection.

Angela finally looked away from the telly toward her brother. Her eyes widened shortly before she burst out laughing. “Oh, my god!” she gasped. “You look pregnant!”

“I knew it!” Axtell said, rubbing his hand over his belly, examining it.

“You knew you were pregnant?”

“No, it was supposed to be you!”

“I was supposed to be pregnant?!”

Axell waved her question away impatiently. “She asked me if I were ‘Bevis-comma-A.’ A. Bevis! Then she asked my birthday, but she didn’t know we were twins! She confused Axtell and Angela Bevis! That’s why the curse is all cocked up!”

Angela made a contemptuous noise. “Why would she want to curse me?!”

“She said you were telling lies about people at school.”

The smirk left Angela’s face, replaced with indignation. “I don’t tell lies!”


This time Axtell’s entire body got larger, his arms and legs plumping up, his chest expanding along with his belly, until he looked like a balloon version of himself. No air seemed to escape from his body even as his mouth fell open in shock.

Angela’s head rocked back, howling with laughter.

“Knock it off!” Axtell demanded, more than a little annoyed now.

It took several seconds for Angela to get control of herself. She spoke in short gasps. “You-you-you look like a blow-up doll!”

“It’s not funny!” Axtell shouted at her.

Angela’s eyes had teared up from the hilarity, and she wiped them clear. “No, you’re right,” she said, composing herself. “It’s not funny at all!”


Axtell’s body suddenly swelled up again, with twice as much force as before. His body blew out in all directions, causing stitches to stretch and tear from his clothing. His t-shirt and jeans now sprouted large rips, exposing his ever-tightening skin. He was now so plump that he could no longer move, his legs so fat they were immobile, his arms so thick they wouldn’t bend.

All to the amusement of Angela, whose laughter commenced again. She fell back on the couch, laughing at ceiling as she clutched her aching ribs.

“Angela! My clothes!” Axtell protested.

But if Angela even heard him, she didn’t seem to care. Even as her laughter subsided, she still giggled and tittered every time she looked over her brother’s over-stuffed form.

“Angela, I mean it! The witch said I could burst if I—that is, YOU—told too many lies!”

“Oh, reeeeeealy?” Angela inquired, her eyes aglow. “Then I’d say you’re going to be doing me a lot of favours from now on, aren’t you? You know, cleaning my room, taking me shopping, doing my chores—”

“Oh, stop it!” Axtell shot back. “You’re not going to pop me, so help me get back to normal!”

“Well, I don’t know what to do!”


With the sound of hissing air—Lord knows where it was escaping from—Axtell slightly deflated, returning to a bloated but slightly more reasonable size.

“That’s it!” said Axtell. “Tell the truth! You’ve got to tell a few more truths!”

Angela paused. “Well, let me think.” And she smiled as she let Axtell stew for a tense moment.

“Come now!” Axtell complained. “You’re certainly capable of telling ONE truth in your life!”

Axtell saw from the gleam in Angela’s eyes that he just made a mistake.

“Just for that, …” Angela said, trailing off menacingly.

“Don’t you dare!” Axtell demanded.

But Angela continued: “My name is Abraham Lincoln, and I’m 150 meters tall!”


Axtell’s body re-inflated, making him as big and bloated as before. “Stop it!” he cried helplessly, waving his arms in protest. But the flailing just produced a latex-squeaking sound that made Angela giggle.

She bit her lip in anticipation, thinking of her next lie. Then she said, “I’m a million years old and I can lick Superman!”


Axtell’s midsection billowed out even more, until his arms were sticking straight out from his curved sides, his stubby legs growing apart, shaking from trying to keep his plumped body upright.

Angela continued: “And I ate the whole world and then I sat on the moon and became president of the United States!”


Axtell’s growth surged again, until the last of his shredding clothes fell to the floor. He could no longer stand, but he couldn’t fall far, either: He pitched forward onto his belly, which merely bounced lightly against the floor. He kept blowing up and blowing up...

“Then I drank a million glasses of milk and swallowed airplanes and then I put the sun in my pocket!”


By now, Axtell looked more balloon than human: His hands and feet were nothing but puffy stubs sticking out of his globular form. “Uhhhhhhh!” Axtell groaned in a combination of strain and frustration. If only he could get his hands on his bratty sister! But he was helpless, totally helpless, filling up like Angela’s very own toy balloon—or her own weather balloon—as he waited for her next pronouncement.

“And then I swallowed a whale…!!”


Axtell inflated even larger, and the lounge was beginning to feel a little cramped. His body squeaked from the strain, like a balloon being pushed to its limits. His body was round and taut, and his face turned red from the strain.

“And then I turned yellow! And orange! And greeeeeeeeeeeen!!”

Shhooooomp! Shhhooooooomp! Shhhhhhhhhhoooooooooooooomp!!!

He blew up… and up… and up. He almost completely filled the room now, the squeaks reaching a higher and higher pitch. He felt so close to bursting—so close! Whether Angela planned to or not, she had to stop or he’d explode, just like the witch warned him!

“Angelaaaaaa! Please!” Axtell called out, looking pleadingly down at her from high. “I’m not kidding! I feel like I’m gonna burst! You have to stop!”

Angela just asked tauntingly, “Why?”

“Please! I’m begging you!”

“And you’re going to do whatever I tell you from now on? Be my personal slave?”

“Yes, yes! Whatever you say!”

Angela again pretended to think about it, leaving a very fragile, very wobbly balloon-brother to quiver, shake, shiver, and contemplate his fate.

Finally, with a satisfied, victorious smirk, she let him off the hook. “Fine. My name is Angela Bevis.”


The relief on Axtell’s face was palpable as the pressure inside his body noticeably decreased, his size reducing slightly but visibly.

“And I’m 18 years old,” Angela said.

Pfffffffffff. Her brother shrunk again.

“And I have a twin brother, who’s going to be my slave from now on.”

Pffffffffffffffffffff… That truth, that indisputable truth, brought Axtell’s volume down by at least half. Still round, but well past the danger zone.

Angela pursed her lips in thought.

Axtell said impatiently, “Well? Go on!”

“Don’t rush me,” Angela warned. “Or I’ll tell whoppers until you burst.”

Axtell swallowed nervously.

At long last, Angela sighed. Then she said, “OK, I got one: I’m a virgin.”


Axtell inflated again, this time doubling his size in mere moments. He felt the pressure amassing in his balloonish body, pushing him to the brink of bursting yet again. But this time, the inflation kept building and building and building…!

“Ahhhh! Angela! What the hell?!” Genuine terror came over Axtell’s face, as he reached the biggest size yet, and continued to inflate even further—slowly, but ceaselessly.

“But I am!” Angela insisted. “I really am!”


Axtell’s head was about to reach the ceiling, his sides about to touch opposite walls. “Angela! For the love of God!”

“OK!” she admitted. “But there was only one!”


“OK, two! But Alan shouldn’t count!”


“I hate you,” said Axtell.

And then he exploded into shrapnel with a thunderous BANG.



As she returned home from work and walked into the lounge, Mrs. Bevis first noticed the shredded clothing. Then she looked around the room to find toppled tables, fallen lamps, broken figurines, and other random debris on the floor.

“What is this mess?!” she demanded. “Are these Axtell’s clothes?!” She saw her daughter, sitting unperturbed on the sofa, watching television and blowing bubble gum. “Angela! Where’s your brother?!”

Angela continued blowing until her bubble gum popped gently against her nose. She sucked the gum back in and chewed thoughtfully for a moment.

At last, she finally confessed: “I haven’t seen him.”

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