One Night Stan

His breath came in ragged puffs, as the pressure built inside his skin. The feeling was intensely powerful, and he was drowning in sensation. His body arched forward, pulling at the restraints that held his wrists and ankles to the dark warehouse wall.

His attention was caught by a glint of movement -- a hand with shiny red nails came to rest on the helium tank valve. As she turned it another twist, he felt the flow of gas increase...swelling his already hugely rounded body.

When he asked if he could buy her a drink at that bar, this was not how he expected the evening to go. She had walked in -- all curves, in a tight dress that showed them to her advantage. He had been shocked when she approached him at the bar; girls like her didn’t go for guys like him. They had chatted for a while, the standard get-to-know-you bullshit, when she learned in close—her breasts pushed up by her bra and the bar. “Do you like trying new things, Stan?” she whispered conspiratorially. How could he say no?

This was certainly new, he thought bitterly, while wondering how much more air his poor belly could hold. “Aren’t I big enough?” he managed to pant.

“Sorry,” she purred with a grin. “I wanna see you pop.”

As a shudder ran through his body, he suddenly knew she wouldn’t have to wait.