Musings

I knew that I had it in me to be a writer. I'd done some articles for my college paper a couple of years ago, and I'd even won some creative writing contest held by the local news. I even knew the subject I wanted to write about; I should, since I was using it to come to terms with who I was.

It was weird, yes. Maybe a little perverse. But it was all harmless, and as long as nobody was hurt I kept going back to the same sites, looking at the same pictures, enjoying feeling those stirrings in me while simultaneously loathing myself for enjoying them. I would have clear scenarios as I lay in bed at night with my eyes closed, hoping to convince my brain to give me a dream that titillated me as it would make me a pariah if it ever became known among my friends.

Still, I couldn't bring myself to let myself into what little community existed around it. I would always be an outsider, passively consuming, never contributing. I wiped my caches and cookies regularly, never used pay sites, and used generic-sounding codes for the free ones. I was being so careful never to betray myself, until I realized that nobody cared. I could be free, and I could do something... But every time I started, I fell short and closed my word processor in frustration.

After yet another night of crippling writer's block, I put my head down in my arms when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I sat bolt upright and spun in my chair, whacking the armrest against my desk and causing a small avalanche of paper. A woman stood before me, dressed in a loose toga-like robe that wrapped around her waist and chest, hanging down over her legs and leaving her arms bare. From what I could see through the folds in the material, she wore sandals with thin strips that crossed and crossed again up her calves to her knees. Her skin was bronze, and she wore what looked like a ring of leaves in her thick black hair. She looked at me with startlingly blue eyes, then smiled broadly and spread her arms.

“There is one thing that all creators need,” she declared, before I could even stammer a question about who she was or even how she'd gotten in my room, “and that is inspiration.”

“Wh-Who are you!? How'd you get in my room!?” I gasped, without any originality.

The woman cocked her head slightly, then dropped her arms and sighed.

“Gods, look at this!” she said. “What do you think I am?”

“I don't know... A crazy woman in my house wearing a sheet?”

The woman narrowed her eyes. “Funny.” She walked the few paces to my bed and sat down, crossing her legs primly and placing her hands on her knee. “I'm your Muse.”

“You're a figment of my imagination.”

“Same difference. Don't you know anything about history?” She cheered up and took on a lecturing tone. “Ever since ancient times, creative people needed ideas before they were able to do anything of worth. Sometimes it would be a sunset, sometimes a great battle...”

“...and sometimes a mysterious woman?”

“More times than you'd think.” She stood up and drew closer to me. “Whatever the actual scene of the inspiration was, it was believed that spirits or minor goddesses would place those thoughts in the creators' heads.”

“The Muses.” I had stayed awake during junior high history. “Aren't there only a few of them?”

“Oh, no!” she laughed. “Well, there are a few main ones, but they're all generalities. Like 'music' or 'pottery.' Those concepts cover a lot of ground! No, for specific ideas, there are untold numbers of us sneaking into people's minds and placing that little seed that grows into a big idea.”

“And... You're here for me?” I hadn't quite discounted the idea that this was a crazy woman, and began scooting my chair slowly towards the door.

“Oh, yes. And you need a major kick to get your motor running.”

“Isn't that a pretty modern metaphor for an ancient conceptual pseudodeity?”

“Get with the program!” she blurted. “I, that is, ME, am here to give you, that is, YOOOOU, the idea, to write THAAAAT.” She punctuated this by pointing from herself to me to the still-blank text window on my computer monitor, the cursor blinking steadily at the top of a white expanse.

“Okay... So why are you, that is, YOOOU, here in my room instead of popping pretty pictures into my head?”

“Because,” she said leaning down and looking into my eyes with a mischievous smile, “You need one hell of a mental image.”

“How do you know what I'm going to write about?”

She leaned in close to me, putting her lips to my ear, and whispered, “Ssssss...”

Panicked, I pushed her away from me and stood up. “How...? How do you know what I--”

She laughed again. “Hello? Muse?” She straightened up and put one hand on my shoulder. “Both you and I know what you want to write about. You just need motivation.”

I looked down, my cheeks burning. “You're here to help me write about...” My had to try three times to get the word out, and when it came, it was weak and shivering: “Inflation?”

She smiled patiently and nodded. “It takes all kinds. Hey, you know 'erotic' comes from 'Eros,' the god of physical lust?”

I was still stunned from being able to admit the name of my kink to another person... if she even was a person. “How do I know you're here? Maybe I'm dreaming, or, or finally snapped from sexual repression or something.”

“Look, if I'm here, I'm here to help you do something we both know you want to do. And if I'm not here, then you're doing it yourself so you might as well stop talking yourself in circles and do it already.” She folded her arms triumphantly and sat on the bed again. “So what do you say?”

There was little I could say to argue. It was all too outlandish to be real. Still, if she was right and I was making it up, than I really ought to just ride the wave and let the dream go on. “Okay.”

“Good!” she chirped. She reached under the bed and pulled out a large canister that I knew for a fact had never been there before. She caught my expression and just said “Muse” again with a grin. A long, thin hose was attached to the nozzle, and it was clear that the tank contained some kind of gas under pressure.

“Okay, here's how it's going to go,” she said. “I'll get started, and and you just let your mind take it all in, right?” I swallowed and nodded.

She reached out and tapped my forehead “You already know how this should go. It's in here. We're just going to let it out.”

“Not like Athena let herself out, right?” I asked nervously.

“Nice reference! But no.” She laughed once more and put the end of the hose in her mouth, holding it in the corner of her lips with one hand and putting her other on the wheel of the canister. “Are we ready?”

I took a few deep breaths, then let my gaze travel up and down her slim body until I locked eyes with hers. “Ready.”

“Awesome.” She twisted the wheel slightly, and a slight hissing noise filled the room.

For the first few moments, nothing happened aside from the hissing of the gas and the Muse's deep breathing. I held my own breath.

When it started, she placed the hand that had been on the canister over her midsection and closed her eyes contentedly. “Ahh...” she sighed, running her hand up and down over her toga. “A belly man to begin with, huh?”

I leaned over, holding my hand out hesitantly. “How does it feel?”

“It feels like what you want me to feel. Thank you, by the way. Sometimes the creator wants it to be painful or frightening. This is like... sitting in a jacuzzi that's so hot you can barely stand it, letting the bubbles run all over you. Except they're on the inside, and it feels amazing.” She opened her eyes to see me standing so close to her, then took my hand and held it against her stomach. I felt it pushing against me softly, her skin slowly but steadily puffing out.

I licked my dry lips before asking, “Could I... see it?”

“Oh! How forgetful of me. Of course you'll want to see this.” She began unwrapping her toga, each layer revealing more and more of her gradual swell until she sat in a rather modern bra and panties with the slight curve of a new belly cresting above the waistband of her underwear. Her midriff bulged not just to the front, but to the sides as well.

“Is this what you want?” she asked, keeping the hose in her mouth while she leaned back on her elbows, slowly but visibly expanding.

“Yes...” I whispered, feeling the familiar stirrings of a thousand crude jpegs.

“Then it'll happen. It's going to happen like you've been imagining it all along, and--oh!” She put a hand on her right breast and cupped it lightly. “Looks like you're getting to the breasts. They always go with the boobs...”

“You said something like that earlier... Have you done this before?” I softly held her other breast and felt the skin starting to press against my fingers.

“A few. I'm not, like, the official patron of wet balloon dreams or anything,” she laughed. “But, this isn't my first time, either. You're holding up well. Your fantasy's a good one.”

“Um... Thanks.” I was having trouble speaking, and I didn't want her to see the tightness of my own crotch.

She sighed again and lay back on the bed, running both hands on either side of the slight mound of her belly. I saw the waistband of her panties beginning to leave an indentation all the way around her. Her sides were growing outwards as well, and I could see her thighs beginning to thicken as the gas built up within then.

“Mmm... Belly, breasts, and now the bottom. You know how to treat a girl.” She winked and rolled onto her belly to better show me what she knew I was thinking of. Her buttocks was swelling larger and larger, causing her panties to shift as her body grew steadily beneath them. I placed a hand on each cheek, then impulsively squeezed and pushed her down into the bed.

“Hey!” she gasped, “Not so rough. Not yet, anyway.” She reached back and took my hand again, then began stroking her growing ass. She moaned quietly and muttered, “Silk on tight skin...” then rolled onto her back again. “Can you see how much bigger I'm getting?”

“How could I miss it?” I said, rubbing her belly with one hand while running the other up and down one engorged thigh. “How much... How much bigger will you get?”

“That's the question, isn't it?” she asked, looking pointedly at me. “The answer to that is another question: How much bigger do you want me to get?”

I probably looked pathetic, trembling slightly as she sat there so confidently with her body still steadily expanding with every passing second. “How much bigger... can you get?”

She rocked back on her swollen glutes, laughing heartily; a true belly laugh. Her body shook and continued to grow as she gulped for breath. “Now you're getting it! You know what's going to happen. You just need to admit it and let it happen instead of acting surprised the entire time. This is your creation!” With that, she reached over and turned the wheel on the canister again, causing the hissing to increase in volume.

As the new rush of gas flowed into her, she reached behind her and undid her bra. Her breasts surged out of their restraints, quickly filling to become quivering orbs that rested on her massive belly.

Even then, it wouldn't be right to call what she now had a belly--the entire lower half of her torso was starting to become a globe of its own, with thighs as large as her entire waist had once been pressing together beneath her to taper down to her otherwise only slightly swollen calves. The straps of her sandals pressed against her skin, leaving a diamond pattern of flesh that curved out of each opening. Her panties were performing admirably, but as her waist expanded in all directions the waistband finally parted ways and the silk slid down her curves to the bed. Her breasts were nearly spherical themselves, but compared to the sheer size of her body they were almost afterthoughts.

As the waistband to the underpants snapped, the Muse shuddered with a pleased groan and dialed the wheel back down to its original rate, then held the hose in one hand and kinked it shut, leaving it trailing into her mouth. “I know what you're looking for, and the hard X rating isn't it. Let me try for a little modesty. Hold this.”

She pressed the kinked hose into my hand and shuffled off of the bed until she could stand on her own feet, facing away from me. Her giant buttocks bulged out to either side of her incredibly wide hips before being enveloped by her now practically spherical torso. With some difficulty, she picked up her toga from the bed and began to wrap it around herself again, making two tight winds about her waist. Before she began to swell, she had been wrapped in over half a dozen folds of loose cloth, but now the material was cinched tightly around her, tucked between her legs almost like a sumo wrestler. She'd apparently given up on trying to contain her breasts, or perhaps she simply needed all the cloth she could just to make it around her hips.

I watched her work, slowly reaching her hands over and around her hugely swollen body, and I looked from her to the kinked hose, still in my hand. As I did, she began to run her fingers up and down what she could reach of her sides, slowly tracing the curve of one massive buttock. I then saw her reflection in the computer monitor: the hose still in her mouth, she was smiling as she watched me in my indecisiveness. She knew what I was thinking. She'd said so several times. Doing this now wouldn't be a betrayal of trust--it would be taking control of the situation, moving from a passive observer to a direct manipulator of what was going on.

I looked straight into the reflections of her eyes and let go of the hose. She nodded and closed her eyes with a smile as the hissing resumed once more.

Her rear end continued to expand, slowly pushing the newly-wrapped toga aside. The bulging flesh to her sides began to strain at her new belt, but she had tied it in such a way that the more pressure her midsection applied, the more snugly it held her.

“Do you know what you've done?” she asked kindly, turning to face me and presenting me with the sight of her whole form, bloated to almost-spherical proportions.

“I've made this mine. My vision.”

“You've made me yours.” she stepped forward again, nuzzling me with her swollen body, then suddenly thrust her hips forward, knocking me backwards onto the bed as she steadied herself from the collision. “I'm not going to pretend that I don't know what you're thinking. And you want this story.”

I was lying on my back, but in another very clear sense I was still standing tall. I shucked my pants as I pulled myself into a sitting position. “I want this to be happening. Not just in my head.”

“Maybe it is real. If it's in your head, you don't know the difference.” She stood before me, curving off in all directions, the globe of her torso pulling against the wrap around her. She reached towards me with both hands, barely able to stretch her arms to either side of her belly. When I took her hands, I pulled her towards me until I was pressing myself totally against her, my head buried between her breasts, cradling her bulk with my entire body.

“Then I'm going to make it happen.”

 

I stood up, turning slowly and laying her--well, rolling her backwards--onto the bed. Even though she was lying down, her belly rose to the height of my chest. I had to lean over her to look past her breasts and see her face. She smiled brightly and stroked the underside of one massive breast with one hand, the finger of her other trailing the hose that continued pumping whatever supernatural substance she was filling with.

I tugged experimentally at the robe, but I could barely get my fingers between her skin and the cloth. “I need to get you out of this.”

Even though I could only see the top of her head from where I was standing, a rhythmic bounce of her upper body likely meant she was shrugging. “There's more than one way to get a girl out of a dress,” she said.

“That's right. And here's another.” I followed the hose to the gas canister and gave the wheel a firm turn. The hissing intensified, even louder than it had been she had turned it up before. The Muse made a noise halfway between a gasp, a laugh, and a moan, and I could see her beginning to grow ever larger.

Suddenly, her legs clamped around my waist, pinning me between her enormous thighs and holding me tightly against her swollen groin. I gasped myself as my crotch brushed the soft skin of her inner thigh, though the robe still held fast against the assault from within, a few layers of thin cloth between me and my fantasy. I gently rubbed the sides of her legs and hips and heard more quiet moans of pleasure from the other side of the ridiculously inflated woman's belly.

Her body continued to expand, and the material of the robe began to slide down between her legs and her buttocks, becoming the world's largest G-string. Her growth began to push her gigantic thighs aside, as the pressure between them forced her legs apart. With her ankles locked behind my back, she had me caught as the gas caused her thighs and crotch to push against me.

The robe was still a taut band around her equator, a ridge running the full diameter of her massive body. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the knot in the cloth gave with a tearing sound. Her body actually bounced off the bed slightly as the forces within her equalized, and I pulled the robe out from between us. Now that the robe was out of the way, the increased flow of gas was causing her to inflate more quickly, and I pressed myself into her firm yet pillowy form.

“Wait,” she whispered. I saw one hand flail blindly to the side as she pulled the canister towards her and twisted the wheel back, lowering the hiss to a barely audible sibilant. “Slower,” she gasped. “Makes it last longer.”

 

I knelt on the bed and tried to pull her towards me, one hand on either of her thighs. Her legs clenched again, but the new bulge of her groin between her legs kept them from being able to close around me. I traced myself around her with my eyes closed, feeling an amazing rush of exhilaration, before thrusting myself into her.

Well, almost. When I pushed my hips forward, it only served to push her over the bed, sliding her across the mattress and out of my range. I reflexively rocked forward and back a couple of times in the air before noticing that I had failed to make entry.

I knee-walked closer before trying again, and once more only succeeded in pushing her inflated form away from me. By this time, the Muse had realized what was happening and began bellowing with laughter, her entire body quaking with mirth. She twisted off the bed and actually rolled on the floor, fetching up upside down against the wall, still laughing hysterically.

I jumped off the bed, humiliated, and helped her right herself. “I'm sorry,” I mumbled, my face crimson.

“No... Don't be,” she said, still stifling a guffaw. “Just help me stand.”

I took her hands and pushed her up against the wall until she could get her swollen legs beneath her rounded body. She stood bowlegged, the curve of her torso and groin coming together in a smooth curve between her thighs and meeting her buttocks on the other side. Every part of her, other than her head, neck, hands, and feet, was becoming rounder and rounder, still swelling and inflating where she stood.

She sumo-pushed me slightly with her immense belly. “You get on the bed this time,” she said in a voice the brooked no disobedience. “I'll handle the mechanics.”

Confused, I did as she asked, then took another look at her and tried to see what she was thinking. “How can you make us work? I couldn't even do it!”

“You've gotten me this far,” she said with a smile. “I'm not going to let it end until you're done.”

I watched the Muse waddle towards me, her body rotating back and forth with every step she took. The woman's completely bloated body, hips swaying, belly slowly gyrating, with a hungry look in her eye, was possibly the most sensual approach I had ever witnessed. My erection, which had wilted somewhat in the embarrassment of the situation moments before, once again surged upwards.

She reached the edge of the bed and tipped herself onto her belly, pushing against the floor and rocking into an upright position. She was on her knees, but her thighs were forced far apart and she was really resting on the swollen flesh between her legs. Like someone on crutches, she made a series of short hops from her knees, each time coming back down on her expanded groin. Her breasts heaved with each hop, bouncing up and down, but her belly remained taut and motionless. With one final hop, she landed straddling me, one leg on either side, balanced by her crotch on my legs. I could feel the curve of her enormous buttocks against my shins as she shifted.

“Luckily, you weren't imagining helium,” she said, “so this'll work. I'm going to need some cooperation from you, though.” She winked.

Without saying a word, I lifted my legs, and now she stood on the bed, the massive ball of her body hanging above me, her face hidden behind the curvature of her belly. I reached out and traced a finger along the inside of one hugely swollen thigh, and I heard her giggle girlishly. “Okay,” she said. “I'm coming down. I need you to guide me.”

“Right,” I said, suddenly nervous again. She began to lower herself onto me, the vast swell of her coming closer and closer. I coaxed her bulging body down onto me, and then I was in her.

The feeling was intense and highly sexual in a way that I can only fail spectacularly to describe. I bucked by reflex, almost throwing her off again, and guided her back onto me with a hand on either slightly thickened ankle. We sat there momentarily. I was breathing shallowly, trying to keep myself from blowing too soon but wanting to feel everything of this amazing experience. The Muse gasped and moaned, and instead of trying to ride me or grind against me began to slowly twist back and forth, spinning on me even as she still slowly swelled from the gas passing through the hose.

The sensation was overwhelming, the sheer tightness of her, gripping me softly yet with an incredible firmness. I almost let myself be lost in it, but I knew it could get even stronger. With one hand attempting to hold onto her leg, I reached with my other and found the wheel on the air canister.

The squeak of the wheel and the louder hissing caused her eyes to fly open. Her belly and thighs renewed their growth, and I shuddered as I felt something like being caught in a vice lined with inches of velvet.

“No!” she shouted, reaching out and kinking the hose to cut off the gas invading her. “Think! Remember what's happening to you, and to me, right now. Use those thoughts and those feelings. Keep your eyes open. You can't let yourself get lost in this ecstasy before you know how to describe it.”

I managed to smile weakly, still straining to hold myself back. “I guess... true art does come from suffering.”

She grinned. “True suffering... would be to vanish right now, leaving you alone with the most powerful boner you've ever had and nothing to show for it. No more of this,” and she worked some interior muscle that left me gasping. “You would go back to being just some guy who dreamed he was fucking a balloon with tits.”

“To me honest,” I said, “I was much more interested in your legs and ass instead of your breasts.”

She winked. “I know. I felt it happening. I felt your mind racing, your fantasy coming to life in me.” Another invisible inner tweak accompanied her words 'coming to life.' I tried to remain motionless and caress a bulging thigh, but I groaned against her bulk as her tiniest movements caused subtle changes of friction.

“However...” she trailed off.

“However...?”

“I can tell when you know what you need to know. When you've got what you need in your mind to create your work. When, in fact, I've my purpose here is over.”

“No...” I gasped, running both hands against her belly where it stretched about above me. “You'll leave me if I enjoy it, and you'll leave me if I think about it!? Was this all some incredible cocktease?”

“I didn't say that,” she said. “I can tell when my job is done.” She let go of the hose. “But I love my job,” she continued, against the rising hiss and the intensifying pressure gripping us both, “and I like overtime.”

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