Unexpected Decor

(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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Pop might be a seasoned pumper, but his home décor is anything but fetishistic. Zamo enjoys some breakfast with his mentor, and remarks on how surprised he is to find the legendary balloon-daddy has a thing for cottage core aesthetics. 

Just a quick little scene for my friend Zamo of his fursona and one of his OCs.
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Pop finished breakfast prep with a fried egg. He slid it on to his plate and took both his, and his house guest's plate, over to the sprawling kitchen table. Instead of hard edges the wood curved inwards in a half-moon. Being a man of big appetites, Pop ensured he took the steps to facilitate his larger than life ethic. That included ordering a custom mahogany dining table where his stomach, the great wrecking ball attached to his torso, could slot in comfortably. There was a certain pleasure to feeling the sharp wooden edge angled against your belly, when you had a penchant for the more 'explosive' side of things, but detonating so early in the morning over your orange juice wasn't ideal.

 "So, do you want to go through some theory, do some reading maybe, or just get straight to the practical experience?" Pop said to the pink wingless dragon, who's smooth rubbery hide sparkled in a shaft of light coming in from the wall-length windows. They led out to the garden, a bed of well tended vegetables and rare flowers. Pop’s pride and joy.

 "I'm just surprised," Zamo replied. "Your home is lovely. I mean I didn't think it would be gross, or anything like that, I just thought it'd be less..." 

 Pop laughed. His belly bounced part-way out of his lounge robe. "You thought it would be less cottage-like with the little garden and the flowers, and more akin to the faux leather walls of a dominatrix den," he cut one of his sausages down the middle, and brought the half to his mouth. He hummed, the flavour was good. "Maybe you hoped I would have a submissive balloon boy tied up in my living room, all primed and pumped, ready for you to deliver the finishing blow?" 

 Zamo's cheeks reddened. His boxers grew tight. Pop could see his crotch from where he was seated, Zamo's slim frame wasn't anywhere close to filling the circular indent on his side of the table. It made it easy for Pop to tell when his flirtations produced their intended effect. 

 "A little bit," Zamo smiled awkwardly. "You 'are' a master inflation escort, it's why I'm here to learn."