Airshow Envy

(Disclaimer: Any acts of transformation, expansion, or mental altercation have been consented to by the owners of the characters affected. Any acts depicted are meant as explorations of the fetishistic psyche, hold artistic merit, and are compliant with the TOS of Patreon).

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Commission for Glitch50!

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‘The Airshow’ arrived on the second Thursday of every second month. It was a place for balloonies, living permanent balloons in the shape of people and other creatures like anthromorphs - hyenas, like Glitch - to cast off the pressure of daily life. And then replace it with pressure of a different kind, ascending skyward covered in beautiful designs, or completely nude. It was up to the individual inflationist, freedom was the modus operandi of the modern balloonie. Sometimes a bit ‘too’ free, for the public, which is why displays of this caliber were relegated to the cornfields out on the edge of the state.

A pair of balloonies, walking hand-in-hand to the pumping grounds, crossed Glitch’s path as he wished he had the confidence to be as free, and brazen as them. He eyed the target of his affection. A tall well-made, well-built, well-pumped timbrewolf made of slick grey rubber named Brandon. He looked so beautiful when he laughed. He was even more beautiful when he inflated, he was a popular balloonie, but apparently single. People were intimidated by his immenseness. So no one had dared ask him out.

Glitch closed his eyes and psyched himself up. Imagining himself pumping up in his head until he was tall, and strong, like inflatable Hercules. He popped when a truck transporting helium tanks drove past, and he was back in his flesh and fur body sitting on a crate. As meek as he’d always been.

His reflection looked back at him through a puddle of muddy water in the dirt road, his brown spotted fur the colour of newly rusted metal. Something he found funny as a coincidence, considering his work with machines. He smelled like one too, the deodorant and aftershave he’d rubbed into his fur didn’t do enough to get the smell of chemicals and gasoline out of him. He patted his stomach and decided. If he was going to ask Brandon out, and they were going to have a life together, in some universe, somehow, he’d need to get used to that combination of smells anyway.

Glitch marched off the dirt road and on to the open grassy field. Balloonies, pumped to resemble all sorts of things from the favoured hot air balloon, to soft and hard airships, to parade balloons. The latter was a personal favourite of Glitch’s, partly because it was Brandon’s specialty. It combined the ethereal weightlessness of inflation, and the fullness of overpressure, while leaving the body proportional enough to be viewed and enjoyed from all angles. Every form of inflation had its appeal to Glitch, but the parade balloon won in his mind.

“Excuse me,” Glitch said, too forcefully.

Brandon stopped his conversation with a pink rhino who was half-way through draining a handheld helium tank, and gave Glitch a confused look. “Uh, can I help ya?”

Shit. Too much. “You blow up… good,” Glitch scrambled.

Brandon laughed. Glitch couldn’t tell if it was hearty, or a loud distraction from his awkwardness. “Gee I think so too, lil buddy.” The inflatable timberwolf turned back to the rhino who was several degrees fatter now, bloated on noble gas.

Having Brandon turn his back on him hurt, in a way he hadn’t prepared for. “I… want to see you get even bigger, and I want to be even bigger than that.” Glitch said, covered his muzzle, and prayed for the ground to swallow him up.

Brandon turned, and his expression was unreadable. “Huh,” he said. “Alright. You really want to see me get bigger than my record? Done,” he walked to a tank out on the field and plugged it into his navel valve.

The tank hissed, and he grew. At first he only got taller, and wider, but after a minute had elapsed his shadow yawned over Glitch. He continued to stretch with a half-lidded expression, clearly enjoying the way it felt. He flexed his arms, big enough to be the towers of an adult bouncy castle, and boomed with laughter. Glitch was right, he was so beautiful when he laughed.

Glitch couldn’t wait any longer. He needed to be up there with Brandon, he needed to share the sky with him. He brought out a vial of fizzy green liquid he brewed in his lab. It was untested on live subjects, but he didn’t care. It worked in theory. So he drank it, and within seconds, he went from fur, flesh, and blood. To rubber; smooth, supple, and shiny.

Glitch tilted his head about to sneeze, but instead of snot flying out from his nostrils, the rush of pressure ended at his nose. It exploded in size. A shiny black golf ball attached to the end of his snout. He felt the same tickling and made the motion to sneeze. His cheeks puffed up, then the rest of his muzzle, and finally the rest of his head. He waddled on the spot looking like an inflatable bobblehead, slapping his paws against his face in an attempt to find his equilibrium. He managed to stop wavering back and forth long enough to push his paws into his inflated cheeks, attempting to squeeze the air out of his head. All he did was shift the air around, making his muzzle deflate, and his pointy ears round out momentarily. The moment he lowered his arms, his head returned to its semi-spherical shape.

“Are you alright down there?” Brandon, beautiful ballooning Brandon, boomed from above. His wide-set features furrowing with worry. “Maybe you should find a medic, get them to siphon out the air?”

“Nnnnnoph!” Glitch spat, through cheeks too puffy to allow regular speech. “I have this under control!”

His paws, hand and foot, were next to inflate. One, after the other, like a sequence of internal explosions. When his left footpaw, the last to blow up, finally expanded. It did so with enough force to bounce Glitch upward. He fell onto his back and tried to tense his body to deny the tingling building up in his belly. He went cross-eyed with the strain, until he couldn’t fight anymore, and his entire central section. Chest, belly, hips, ass. Exploded to the size of a weather balloon, and it showed little signs of its rapid expansion slowing down.

Brandon, in all his splendor, floated closer. He tried to call for some of the airshow employees, the emergency inflato-medics, to tether Glitch down before he shot up any higher. But it was too late, and by the time the ropes were made available for tethering, Glitch had doubled in size. His swell was so violent it pushed smaller, less eager balloonies aside. He blasted through size categories in meteoric succession, but such rapid expansion had its price. Brandon inhaled and soared higher, to catch up with Glitch.

“Can’tph… Stoph…!” Glitch felt his upper arms and thighs lose their definition. They blew up into mounds of inflated ginger rubber, with seams running parallel down his sides. He snorted out superheated air and gas, which built up faster than he could release from his crowded face. “Stttoooooph… streeeeeeetching!” He shouted, but his body refused. His paws widened and flattened against the puffy donut-like mounds. He tried to bend a single digit, but they were individually so full they had gone stiff from the pressure.

Glitch wanted to be a big, handsome float like Brandon. He envisioned himself as a parade-balloon with a powerful round belly, and thick overblown limbs which he could flex and display like champion powerlifter at the height of his career. Instead he had fudged his chance to show off, and now he was more like a sphere with a huge, stupid face, and huge, stupid, puffy paws.

Creeeeeeak.

Glitch exhaled in a panic. He winced at the tugging in his flanks. His seams were too stressed to hold the gas produced by his experimental potion inside his body, and they were making Glitch aware of that with a high-pitched whistling as tiny leaks sprung from them. No denying it now. He was about to blow. The big kaboom, pop, bang, ka-pow. He had seen this happen to so many people. Some even let themselves explode with the anticipatory glee of a full body orgasm. Glitch couldn’t deny that he felt some measure of that excitement, but he was still afraid. The idea of going to pieces was visceral, no matter how cartoonish and brightly coloured it was. He wished he had someone to explode with, safely, for the first time. He pictured Brandon as overpressurized as he was, and a room too small to contain the two of them. With his muzzle pressed to his, as they shared a hot-air kiss and experienced mutual bliss.

“Hang on buddy!” Brandon yelled. He ascended, like a god in Glitch’s eyes. His grey latex shining like dark polished silver in the setting sun. “I’m gonna squeeze ya real slow, alright?” He was so impressive, he could still move his gigantic parade-balloon arms, when they must have been filled with enough air pressure to render them hard as steel. “Just puff into me, alright?”

“Too… phuuul…” Glitch whined. “Seams… are… bustin’.”

Brandon recognized a balloon too far gone. “You know you’re gonna be alright, yeah?” Brandon held Glitch in as approximate an embrace as one balloon could share with another.

“Ffffphurst… tttiiiimph…” Glitch squinted, he tried to keep his thoughts together. His body was thinner than paper. While the sunlight bounced off Brandon, it shot through Glitch. His skin was so sensitive he nearly lost his composure and went to pieces at both the heat of the rays passing through him, and the warmth of Brandon’s hot-air filled paws on his body. If he let his focus go slack, for just a second, he was sure he’d burst.

“Want me to get away from ya or…?”

Glitch pushed his body against Brandon’s. “Nnnpho… squeephze me, iph… gonna booooom…” a semblance of words left Glitch’s mouth, just barely. “Wannaph… booooom… wittthph phyou… phyou’re so beautiphuuuuul, I wanphted to be a balloooooon you’d pay attention to.”

Glitch was too gorged with hot air to see Brandon’s reaction. But he felt the wolf’s arms squeeze him tighter. It was so warm. He closed his eyes and let go. His body rumbled, and the squealing noise emanating from his body deepened in tone to become a low, constant roaring. A wave of hot, mind-bending pleasure made Glitch yip with excitement as he grew, in his mind, a thousandfold. He felt celestial, but in reality, he surged only a couple of inches before he burst in a shower of sparks.

When Glitch came to he was staring up at the inside of a barn. With Brandon standing over him, the nozzle of a reformation device in his right paw, and a nervous smile on his face. “Hey lil… uh, big buddy, how do you feel?”

Glitch shook his head. He sat upright, discovering he was draped in the elasticated plaid shirt Brandon had inflated in during the airshow. It had receded to a smaller size, but it was still big enough to serve as a large tent cover. “Oh goddddddd,” Glitch pushed his paws into his head. He could feel the texture of his fur, confirming he was no longer a balloonie.

“Did ya mean what you said up there?” Brandon was still there, still smiling, and even more nervous.

Glitch stared at Brandon. He didn’t say anything. He couldn’t think of anything to say. Speak, Glitch, speak. He thought, and tried to will himself to articulate, but failed.

“‘Cause uh, I’m not used to folks being so smitten with a big ole country balloon like myself, they usually just want to outsize me so they can brag at me, but you did this so I’d pay attention to ya,” Brandon put a hand behind his head and rubbed at his neck. “It’s unorthodox but uh, I thought it was pretty sweet.” He looked away, almost trembling. “So if yer free, Friday night, how ‘bout we go out somewhere? If yer keen, I mean. Could even go for a float, without the fireworks, less you’re into that. Hah, oh geez.”

Glitch’s cheeks went so red and so hot, he thought he might explode a second time. “Fr… Friday sounds good.”