Contains inflatable tf (POV Story - the victim is YOU)
It was dark, and cold. Your breath puffed out in a mist in front of you as you pumped your aching legs as fast as they could carry you through the woods you’d found yourself in, desperate to push forward and terrified of tripping on the underbrush. Your legs ached, but you could feel the presence of something dangerous chasing you at the edges of your mind and your vision, and so you continued to run. Finally at your brink, you plunged towards a blinding light, and fell into a meadow. The grass was cool and soft, and there was a sense of peace and safety that washed over you as you pushed yourself to stand again, panting from the exertion. The clearing was bathed in moonlight, and further lit by the glow of unique and strange fauna dotted throughout. Your steps were unsteady but determined as you headed for the cottage in the center. There was a gentle glow in the windows, indicating inhabitants, and you could sense salvation from the horrors in the forest around you in that simple building. You passed by the fenced in garden containing even more bizarre plant life and gave the door a hardy knock.
The door creaked open to reveal a rather tall woman whose curves were wrapped in flowing robes. Long hair fell in waves around her, and her face was obscured by the wide brim of a large witch style hat. You found yourself mesmerized by her presence. She felt powerful, soothing and motherly, someone that would protect you from what you were running from.
“Oh my,” She spoke now, and though you saw her lips moving, her voice felt as though it came from within your mind. “I didn’t expect you to be here so soon… But you do deserve a prize for making it don’t you?” She smiled, and your fear evaporated. You took a step towards her, your eyes level with her ample bosom, causing you to try to look up to view her expression beneath her hat.
“But first, you need to wake up.”
Your alarm blared on your nightstand, jolting you awake from your oddly detailed dream. The image of that woman was still in your mind’s eye, her playful smirk, and her soothing presence. Such memory did nothing to soothe you now, though, as you realized with a rush of panic that you were late! You scrambled out of bed and hurriedly got ready for your job as a marketing professional. You were still pretty new at the place, and this definitely would not help your reputation with your boss. You threw your stuff in the passenger seat and sped off towards the office, scarfing down toast on the way.
You arrived at the ornate and expensive looking ground floor lobby and were surprised to see your manager standing there. Even more of a surprise was the woman standing next to her, though. She was dressed professionally, clearly a businesswoman herself, but you didn’t recognize her, and you’d definitely remember someone like that. She had thick, but beautifully styled brown hair and intensely sharp green eyes that glinted with an almost magical quality. They were talking as you arrived.
“Thanks again for coming, Ms. Owens, I know this was last minute.” That voice was your boss, so the woman was Ms. Owens? It didn’t sound familiar.
“Its not an issue. All I have planned after this is a trip to the pool,” Ms. Owens replied with a polite laugh. Her voice was deep and melodious, and you thought that maybe you ought to visit the pool later today.
Both women turned to you as you arrived, offering a sheepish apology that they both dismissed with a wave of the hand. “This is Ms. Owens,” Your boss explained, “She’s here to assist us in our latest marketing venture. As you know there’s a parade coming up, and we need something big to gather attention.”
That’s right. Your company wasn’t doing so hot this quarter, and you’d been tasked with coming up with a new mascot to compete with similar companies and their iconic characters. You’d designed one but hearing that it may be made into a parade float made you a bit self-conscious. Nevertheless, you handed over your design to your boss, who nodded approvingly after a few seconds of nervous tension. You’d been worried that the anthropomorphic fox girl would be a little too much or something, but you’d done your research into your competitors and designed it according to the trends you were seeing, and it appeared that your boss agreed with the end result, much to your relief.
“What do you think, can you get it done?” Your boss asked, passing the design to Ms. Owens.
“Piece of cake, I’ll have this done in a jiffy. You, come with me.” She ordered you to follow her as she strut towards the door. You cast an uncertain glance to your boss, who lifted an eyebrow and gestured towards Ms. Owens. You swallowed and followed the other woman outside. Rather than go to the parking lot as you expected, she took you around the side of the building, out of view of the front side.
You were about to ask what you were doing out here, but upon opening your mouth, Ms. Owens shoved something into it. Whatever it was, it felt long and cylindrical. Your tongue explored its surface, mapping the shape of some sort of nozzle in your mind. Your muffled questioning fell on deaf ears, and you began to worry about what sort of woman this Ms. Owens was. You went to putt the hose out of your mouth but were surprised that your face moved with it when you tugged. It was stuck! Try as you might, the hose would not budge.
Your struggling elicited a giggle from Ms. Owens, now a much more sinister sound than her interaction with your boss, “No need to panic. Why don’t you take a deep breath?” On the last word, she gestured her fingers, and you could swear you saw something sparkle in her hand. You had no time to dwell on the phenomenon though, because the nozzle in your mouth was now blowing air into your body at an alarming rate. Your panic surged as you expected pain from the force and to eventually perish via a burst lung, but the pain and impending doom never came. Instead, you peeked your eyes open to see Ms. Owens eyeing your midsection expectantly. As she did, you had to admit that you could feel an uncomfortable pressure building there. You clutched your belly – it felt as if the air was forcing your skin taut, and the image of defeating an enemy in DigDug came to mind, making you grimace. You started to rub your aching tummy to try and soothe it, but the texture and sound was wrong. Your belly squeaked in response to your rubs, and upon casting a concerned look down and lifting your shirt, you saw a very shiny, rubbery, white belly. This would be startling enough without the fact that it was starting to grow.
Your insides felt almost hollow – all you could feel was the mounting pressure of the air filling your belly. The strangest part was how the feeling shifted from discomfort to… something else. A ticklish tingling spread through your body and made you blush. This was starting to feel… good. You watched as you felt the air push your rubberized belly to its limit, and felt the air find other places to go. Your chest began to grow exceptionally sensitive. You pawed at your restrictive suit, but for some reason you were having trouble gripping your clothes to shed them and investigate. The tightness in your chest began to help you out though as your breasts, whether you had any before or not, surged forward to catch up to your rotund belly. They steadily pushed against your shirt, causing waves of pleasure crashing over your body and producing a distinct ‘clothing rubbing on a balloon’ sound. No doubt these enormous orbs were as rubbery as your belly. The buttons on your shirt groaned and strained, threatening to pop clean off if the pressure didn’t relent.
Ms. Owens regarded you with a predatory smile, poking your belly and newly enhanced bosom, testing for how full you were. She apparently wasn’t satisfied though, because with a wave of her hand, the air pumping into you seemed to double in volume, causing you to wobble from the force of it pushing its way through your body. The surge sent a few shirt buttons flying as your breasts bounced free, suspended in a taut, air-filled rigidity above your equally tight abdomen. Curiously, the white color of your breasts gave way to a distinct orange on the sides. On top of that you could plainly see seams running along certain parts. Your attention was once again wrenched away, however, by your limbs being forced apart and tingling with that familiar feeling of hollowness and rubbery pleasure. Your hands, now that you were looking, had undergone a drastic change. No more were there individual, flexible fingers, but big puffy sausages that barely moved to your whim. As they filled more and more, the space between them sealed up in a series of seams, with your thumb being absorbed by your palm, and your middle and ring fingers melding into a single chubby digit. The air continued its assault in your arm, turning it to rubbery orange material that ended in a black paw-like mitt that was utterly useless to you. You could feel your feet bulging out of your shoes and undergoing similar changes, but you could not see them over your breast and belly and bending in this tight state was impossible. The most you could do was waddle awkwardly as your legs refused to bend, and whimper around the nozzle filling you up.
Ms. Owens had circled around you to watch your backside, and indeed, she had a perfect view of it since the inflation hitting your legs had torn your pants to shreds. You could feet your rump expanding under her piercing gaze, and she flicked it – sending a jolt through your body and a letting out a hollow sounding thump, not unlike hitting an inflated beach ball. The sound confirmed for you the status of your rubbery behind. The next sensations hit you simultaneously and were the most bizarre yet. The air in your rump reached a critical pressure and a large tail ballooned out of your backside to relieve you. Your relief was offset by the rush of dizziness that accompanied the air rushing up your throat and passing by any orifice that ought to release you from the inflated fate that awaited you, and right up into your head to fill it with air. It was disorienting, and your body wobbled with a squeaky bounciness as you felt your head expand. Your face stretched out into a puffy animal muzzle, and your hearing started to sound muffled by them becoming rubbery and expanding to be large triangular wedges atop your head. You blinked a final time before your eyes became fixed in place – merely painted features on the balloon you were becoming.
“Almost ready.” Ms. Owens said, popping the hose from your mouth. You expected the air to rush out of you, but you stayed a puffy, busty facsimile of… some kind of animal. You could hardly move an inch, let alone look down at yourself. Before Ms. Owens let you see yourself, she wiped her hand across your mouth, resulting in a loud SQUEAK! And your mouth changing to a painted on smile. Finally, she produced a mirror from thin air and let you see yourself for the first time.
Your fox mascot design stared back – or rather, a giant inflated version of her did. It was utterly impossible, but here you were. You were a big, buxom fox balloon with your company’s logo printed on a tight shirt that had long since become one with your chest, and suddenly you recalled that Ms. Owens was asked to supply your boss with an advertisement blimp fit for a parade. Even without a pump, you watched helplessly as your inflation continued at an unprecedented pace, stretching your squeaky skin to its limit, and soon enough, you began to lift into the air. Panic returned to your airheaded mind – would you float away and burst in the atmosphere? Surely Ms. Owens would help you, right? Your panic was sated by a tug on your bloated arms and legs, stopping your ascent. You swayed in the breeze, anchored to the ground, utterly stuck.
You watched out of the corner of your vision as Ms. Owens strolled away, her job complete, and you found yourself both hoping for and dreading the moment your boss came to deflate you for whatever purpose she had for you…