(Contains inflation/inflatable tf - Commission for ultrabude Thank you for your support!)

                Months of intense study. Months of drawing and redrawing plans. Months of begging the boss for another extension on the project. It was all about to come to fruition; he could feel it. Peter ran his hand through his hair, eyes glued to the various screens before him. It was dark out, and the labs were relatively empty, save for his colleague’s cat Mr. Snuggles. It wasn’t the most imposing for the creature, but it wasn’t his cat to decide that about. Normally Peter would be adamant about the disregard of safety having a cat in here would represent, but right now it was nice to have the company. Besides, the cat had never caused a problem yet, opting to casually rub up against people’s legs and lay on a shelf away from the machinery. With his attention momentarily lapsed looking at the cat, he began to think of its owner. His colleague Clara was an excitable brunette with strong features. Her insistence on the cat was the real reason he’d never raised a complaint over it, and Peter found himself imagining the sparkle in her eyes when he told her they’d finally done it.

                He slid another sample of material into the center of the machine. It rested on a platform awaiting the next step. With a deep breath and a short prayer, Peter turned on the machine. Immediately the room whirred to life as monitors flashed on with statuses and other information. Peter adjusted his glasses and peered over the main control console at the platform. Above it were large, cylindrical arms attached to a rotating base. They lowered as the arms positioned themselves to point down and the main body began to spin. Light crackled between the arms, forming a barrier between the sample and the rest of the room – a rather ingenious addition if Peter was in a self-congratulatory mood, and an excellent solution he figured to the cat debate. The light made it difficult to see the platform and what was happening, even with protective eyewear, so Peter focused on the screens on the console and adjusted things accordingly. Beads of sweat began to form on his forehead, and then with a tremendous discharge of energy, the arms of the machine began to slow, and where once was a lump of material, now gently floated a bright blue balloon.

                A balloon? Is it really? Peter had to double, then triple check and more before he threw his fists into the air and let out a hardy “YES!” All that work – all the late nights were finally worth it! He tossed his protective goggles aside and hurried towards the balloon on the platform to remove it and do durability tests. If their theories proved correct, they will have not only constructed a way to change one piece of matter into another entirely, but these balloons will be nigh indestructible! They could sell for a premium – which in turn would finally satisfy their boss and solidify Peter as a scientific genius! Nothing could possibly sour this moment for him as he stepped up onto the platform to grab hold of his future.

                Nothing, of course, except for a very mischievous cat, and some dangerously lax security. Mr. Snuggles hopped up on the control console now that Peter had rushed off, and his little paws landed on the one button that could doom Peter. In his elation, the scientist had hardly noticed the machine begin to return to life. It was only when the rotating arms and the lights they emit reached his peripheral vision that he snapped out of his daydreams of asking Clara out to celebrate. His first reaction was confusion, as he looked around to find the culprit of the machine acting up like this. His second reaction was panic when he remembered where he was standing. He hurriedly tried to hop off the platform to reach the emergency shut off, but he was repelled by the forcefield of his own design. His breathing quickened as his mind raced for something he could do, but there was little recourse as the lights began to crackle with energy around him. An undeniable pressure began to make itself known in his abdomen. At first it was easy to assume that this was merely the product of his own panic, but as it mounted more and more it became increasingly obvious that something was very wrong. Confirmation of this came in the form of a very bloated sensation. His shirt began to tighten around his body, slowly riding up on his body.

                This couldn’t be happening! He’d finally made a breakthrough! He pounded against the forcefield to no avail, trying to ignore the uncomfortable sensation in his belly. Eventually, though, he finally took stock of his predicament. What he saw was positively shocking. His button-down shirt was now straining to contain his swelling belly. Peter pressed a hand into it and found very little resistance, like his skin was being pushed taut by the unending surge of pressure stretching his poor tummy further and further. From his perspective it looked like he had a decently packed beer gut. The tingling feeling of pressure began to work its way through more and more of his body now, slowly seeping into his arms and down to his hands. Peter wiggled his fingers and marveled at the pins-and-needles sensation that elicited. He stared at his hand as his fingers fattened one by one as what was increasingly feeling like air pressure forced its way into every nook and cranny of his outermost appendages. He knew that this process should probably have been painful, but any sense of pain was eliminated by the spreading tingles, and replaced at worst with the overfull, uncomfortable pressure fighting against his skin. He also knew he should be feeling panicked, and frankly he was, but the scientist in him couldn’t help but examine his expansion with fascination.

                With a sudden fsssssh and a force within Peter so violent it threatened to bowl him over, his belly began expanding at a much higher speed. It surged forward, peeking from beneath his rapidly straining shirt and pushing him well beyond the beer gut look. He couldn’t turn to look very well, but behind him his backside was starting to join in the fun, swelling bigger and bigger against his will. This surge of growth pushed forth a fresh set of fear in the man, and he started to call out for help, hoping maybe someone in custodial would hear him and be able to shut the machine down. He probably should have begun calling sooner though, because he hardly began his second scream when he felt the air inside him shift and fill his mouth. It swelled his cheeks up to the point he could barely move his lips to let out more than a muffled cry. It was as though the process could tell he was trying to get help and silenced him in response. Now unable to speak out, Peter simply helplessly watched as his chest began to push out alongside his belly, trying to join it in a more uniform curve. He pressed his hands against his growing torso, feeling the taut skin barely squish in, stretched to its limit long ago, and yet still going. Peter would have looked obese if not for the way his bloating body expanded without a hint of flab or sagging. Instead, he was resembling a Halloween costume for a sumo wrestler. His inflating rump and belly were starting to force his legs apart, and though he could not see past his enormous belly to see them, he could tell his feet and toes were starting to bloat like his hands.

                The lights swirling around him flashed again, stunning the beach ball bellied scientist for a moment or two. He moved to rub his eyes but was distracted by an odd squeaking sound. It was quiet, but distinct. It was the unmistakable squeak one would get by rubbing the skin of a balloon. He shifted his weight on his feet and heard the squeak. He moved his arms a bit and heard the squeak. Tentatively, he rubbed his tight, swollen belly with his hands, though now he was only able to reach part of the way around its massive size. SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEAK Came the painfully obvious response to his little test. The sound was coming from him! Even standing still, he could hear the creaks and squeaks of a balloon filling up. His shirt made a creak of its own as it stretched to its utter limit, but when you would expect it to tear, something rather peculiar happened instead. It flattened and pressed into his skin, until they were one and the same, as though his shirt was merely painted on a rubber surface. Peter rubbed his squeaking, shiny belly for several seconds, but the shirt would not move, confirming its status as mere decoration on the surface of his skin. His pants no longer felt as though they were cutting into his skin either, signifying to the inflating man that his other clothing met the same fate. His body was now at a size that forced him to awkwardly waddle, rather than pace in any dignified way. The scientist racked his mind for any way out of this situation but was once again distracted by yet another new sensation striking his ballooning form. His bloated arms had been stuck out at his sides for a while now, but as he watched over the dome of his blimp of a torso, he could see his arm begin to sink into his body. More accurately his body was inflating and growing to consume the arm, but the effect was the same. With newfound terror, Peter flapped his arms uselessly as his body seemed to speed up its transformation to consume them. He hardly noticed his massive behind and pelvis that now formed a near uniform curve beginning to devour his legs as well. It wasn’t until he felt the cool metal of the platform beneath him brush his bottom that his attention was brought downward. His pants, painted on as they were, did nothing to deafen the feeling of metal-on-skin contact. He shivered and craned his neck to look down but could see nothing beyond his own massive body. Bending his legs was impossible, and he could guess why.

                A long time seemed to pass with little change for Peter. His body squeaked and bobbed a bit, but he could do nothing but flap his hands at his sides that stuck out of divots in his inflated body and look around at the lights that spun around him at high speeds. He wondered if the process was nearing its end. Peter could only imagine how ridiculous he looked now – an oblong rubbery facsimile of his former self with puffy feet and bloated hands sticking out. His struggles were not over, though. The hissing sound of air accompanied by the straining squeak of a stretched balloon returned in force, causing him to wobble about from the immense pressure. His body pressed against his hands, forcing them further and further into his mass. Peter’s body was expanding out uniformly in the front and back, forming an even curve between his chest, belly, back, and rump, with only his head and extremities sticking out. This was starting to change, though, as his hands sank more and more, eaten by the rest of his ballooning body. Peter’s head began to sink too, the rubbery shine of his squeaking, inflated body encroaching on the edges of his vision. At some point, he’d lost the ability to blink, but that felt secondary to the bizarre feeling in his lips. They tingled, and suddenly felt loose. His lips stretched and flapped, completely out of his control. They moved and stretched more, tugged as if by invisible hands. He let out a muffled groan as his upper and lower lips were twisted around one another, then yanked tight in a knot befitting the balloon beside him. The lights finally began to die down, and the machine slowed to a halt. The only indication of this poor Peter had was the lights and sound, as he could not move his head to look around. In fact, he couldn’t move any part of his body. He was trapped, gently bobbing against the smaller balloon he’d originally went onto the platform to grab. His skin felt unbearably tight and full, and the tingle had faded to allow him to feel more of the filtered air of the lab on his rubbery skin, and the bit of static between his body and the balloon beside him. Then, he felt something else. Something rumbling, soft, and warm. Mr. Snuggles, the cause behind his current predicament, rubbed up against him affectionately. Oh, Peter hoped for all the world for his and the evil little cat’s places to be switched, but alas, he was but a giant balloon now. He had nothing to do but wait for his colleagues to find him in the morning.

                Overnight was a strange thing for Peter. He couldn’t seem to sleep in this new body, but he also didn’t feel the need to. It was mostly boring for him. He immediately missed the boredom though when the lights flicked on and he heard chatter and footsteps. He recognized the voice as Clara strolled into the lab.

                “Mr. Snuggles, did you get stuck in the lab again? Did mean ol Pete leave you behind? Awww… poor baby…” She was cooing at her cat. Her footsteps suddenly stopped though, right at the entrance to the lab that Peter was in. He could only imagine the sight she beheld. The footsteps were rapidly approaching now, and her voice had an excited hitch to it, “These are-! Did that man actually do it!?” She exclaimed in disbelief. Peter actually felt a rush of pride for a moment. He did do it. He succeeded! He was a genius! The pride was brief though, as he felt her manicured hands grip his sides and give his taut body a strong squeeze. His body squeaked and his air began to displace a bit. She was probably doing a cursory stress test, and he could hear the balloon beside him getting a similar squeeze.

                “Morning Clara,” came the call of a coworker as they passed.

                “Hey Derrick,” she greeted back, “Say, did you see Peter anywhere?”

                “Nah, figured he pulled another all nighter, though. He’ll be in later, I’m sure.”

                “Yeah, you’re probably right…” She sighed. That man really didn’t know when to take a break. Oh well, no reason to not keep things rolling! She grabbed the smaller balloon and undid the knot to deflate it.

                Peter was growing more and more worried. She didn’t recognize him at all… He tried to call out to her, but being a hollow piece of inflated rubber, not so much of a squeak escaped him. He heard the air being let out of the balloon next to him and felt Clara rotating him to face her. Gosh her hair was so beautiful tied back like that. And her eyes were so bright and shone with the light of excitement. He felt her grip his knotted lips and undid them. The feeling that followed trumped the entire inflation process in terms of feeling downright alien to him. Air rushed out of his malformed lips, and he felt his massive body begin to shrink. At first, he was worried, then he was excited! He was shrinking! Perhaps he’d shrink to his normal size and be able to get her help in restoring him to normal!

                FSSSSSSSHHHH

                He was down to about triple his original width, by a rough estimate, surely his arms and legs would reappear soon!

                FSSSSHHHH

                Down to double! So close! Surely Clara recognized him now!

                FSSSSSHHHH

                The deflation reached his original general size, but not at all his original shape. He was a rapidly deflated lump of colored rubber as far as Clara was concerned, and without so much as a chance to cry out, Peter continued to shrink into that exact reality. His body crumpled and folded in on itself, and Clara began to roll up his body into an easier to carry shape. She lifted him with ease, never once giving him a second look. His arms and legs never reemerged, his face never saw her eyes gleam with recognition, and, being without a bit of air, speaking was an impossibility. He was hoisted under her arms alongside the other deflated balloon and taken to another room for stress testing.

                The point of these balloons, after all, were to be nigh unpoppable. With this goal in mind, Clara got to work. She struck poor Peter with sharp implements including pins, scissors, and knives. She threw his rubber body in a freezer for over an hour and heated him up to well beyond the melting point for the material most balloons were made from. Was it uncomfortable? Absolutely, but Peter withstood everything Clara could think to throw at him. All the while, he begged for her to recognize him in some way or another. She never gave any indication that she did, however. She never even spoke to him during the entire grueling process.

                This changed at the end of yet another puncture test he’d passed, “Whew, well, Peter, you outdid yourself.” Despite his hope of recognition, she seemed to be speaking to him as though he weren’t right before her eyes, “These balloons are totally perfect. I could kiss you when you finally get in.” She carefully folded up the very subject of her talking to no one, unbeknownst to her, of course. Peter was awaiting the next test, but his body quaked in fear when he saw that she had already folded up the smaller balloon and had placed it into packaging. Packaging the marketing department had designed for the sale of their indestructible balloons. She lifted him one last time, placing him in his own box. She shut the lid and prepared to present the balloons to their boss before they hit the shelves…