Tags: Full Body Inflation, Female Inflation, first person, hiccups, inhale
Text: When I signed up to study ecology, I had visions of visiting exotic biomes. I daydreamed of swimming through Caribbean reefs and discovering a new species of pufferfish or finding a violet poison dart frog in Amazonia. The reality is that you have to go where the money will take you. So there I was, knee-deep in the effluent from Grimesworth Dye Works in a freezing polluted stream, sifting out the red water mites to take them back to the lab and test them for mutated bacteria. This dominated my life, regardless of the season. I was paying my dues for my PhD. Ah well, at least the water was my favourite colour: violet.
I would often go home in the evenings with my hands stained heliotrope by the dye and no amount of scrubbing would get it out, so nowadays I just put up with the occasional funny look. Grimesworth Dye Works were concerned about their environmental record and wanted to demonstrate that their dye didn't damage DNA, so they wanted me to look for the microbes, and since I'd specialised in arachnids, it was the Hydrachna mites I used. I also partly sequenced their genomes to look for oxidative damage to the nucleotides. This was also why the water was freezing cold - they ran heat engine dynamos off the temperature differences in the pipe to reclaim the energy so they could say they weren't wasting electricity.
At least the weather was nice today. I enjoyed the sun beating down on the back of my wetsuit if nothing else, as I diligently searched for little red dots with eight legs in the water. That was another reason to look on the bright side. I was secretly really attached to that wetsuit. It had taken me quite a while to find a violet one with a front zip. It wasn't exactly feminine but it really made the days more tolerable to know that whereas I might be acquiring who knows what kind of horrendous damage to my skin while standing in a watercourse which stank of cleaning fluid and gave me a sore throat, it gave me an ideal excuse to spend my time with violet neoprene hugging my figure all over. I'd never let that on to anyone though, not even Simon.
Ah well, time for lunch. I hoisted myself out of the water into the long grass. I wandered away from the bank and found the clear spot where I usually ate my sandwiches. I just sat on the grass, making a damp patch round myself, but I did wipe my hands first. Probably not a good idea to ingest any of the dye. As I ate, I looked at the sheep in the field across the stream. They were behaving a bit strangely I thought, though my speciality was arachnids, not mammals. They seemed oddly frolicsome and also rather overweight. They also kept hiccuping. Oh yeah, and they were mauve - sorry, forgot to mention that.
The midday sun was absolutely baking, so I reluctantly peeled off my wetsuit. I was only wearing a bikini underneath, but I was pretty sure no-one would see. Pretty soon I'd finished my sandwiches, so I gathered up a new set of sample bottles and walked through the grass back to the afternoon grind, draping the suit over my left arm. Just as I was about to get back into it by the waterside, I felt a sharp sting on my ankle and looked down. An Ixodes ricinus - sheep tick to you - was ballooning with my blood. By the time I'd got over the shock, it had dropped off into the undergrowth. It left an itchy red mark which started me worrying about Lyme Disease. I also wondered what it was like to be a tick. They must have an insatiable desire to fill themselves up almost endlessly until they're nearly bursting. I couldn't relate to that at all. Not right then.
Making a mental note to have myself tested for Lyme Disease and checking there were no more lurking ticks, I managed to put the incident to the back of my mind, pulled the suit back on, zipped it up and eased myself back into the water. I was just going to have to wait and see what happened, I supposed. I carried on working for a while, then by the end of the afternoon I noticed my heart was hammering. Was that psychosomatic? I didn't remember it as a symptom of the disease. I was also getting thirsty. I shouldn't be monitoring myself so closely or I'd end up talking myself into having something anyway. One thing was clear though: I definitely felt indefinably strange. I decided to knock off for the day. Probably nothing but it's better to be sure.
I dried off my bare violet feet and put on a pair of flip-flops, then set off back home. On walking past the field, I noticed the sheep. They were now grotesquely bloated and lying on their backs, still convulsively twitching from time to time. I know it's a funny thing to say about sheep but I got the distinct impression they were giving off some kind of ecstatic vibe connected with their condition. Right, that was it – I was definitely getting delirious if I was starting to think I could read an ungulate mind.
Though it had clouded over and cooled a bit, I still felt rather warm. Even the rain which ensued seemed not to help much, apart from rinsing the mud off the neoprene. I imagined the drops hissing as they boiled off my rubbery flanks and unzipped myself to mid-chest level, as far as I dared in public, blew down my front and flapped it a bit. I was really buzzing now, euphoric in fact. The colours around me glowed vividly. Then I started to hiccup. I was ravenous now too and my heart continued to thump vigorously away to its own content. My stomach was rumbling quite excessively – I even saw a couple of passers by look round a couple of times. I realised I was gulping a bit each time I hiccuped, and they were getting stronger.
Simon opened my front door and smiled.
"Maria Dawson! How're you doing, my glistening rubber-clad violet goddess?" he called, typically indiscreetly and rather too loudly.
I blushed and giggled.
"Ssssshh! Do you want the whole street knowing what we get up to in the bedroom?" I whispered to him as I stepped over the threshold. We kissed and he toyed with my zip pull.
"As it happens, I feel a bit unusual."
His face showed concern. "You OK dearest?"
I told him about the tick bite. He fussed a bit about getting it checked out and I agreed to 'phone the Health Centre first thing in the morning, which calmed him down a bit.
"And I've got the hiccups."
"Well, we'll have to do something about that. Hold your breath."
I took a deep breath in and held it for a while. I almost got to exhaling completely when I hiccupped again and the end of the breath went down by mistake. It tickled and I giggled again. Then I tried blowing up a balloon. I'd just emptied my lungs into it again when my belly twitched again and I got a blow back all the way out of the balloon into my stomach.
"Whoops!" I laughed again, and I remember it passing through my head that it was a bit odd how much I was enjoying having the hiccups.
A spicy scent emanated from the kitchen.
"What's cooking?" I asked.
"Five bean chilli!"
"Yay! I can't wait. I'm starving!"
Pretty soon, we were sitting round our table for two in the kitchen with a plate piled high with deep red mush. Despite my hiccups, I wolfed the whole lot down in a couple of minutes, though I had to slow down a bit towards the end because I was absolutely stuffing myself. We finished it off with a couple of tall glasses of soda.
After Simon entertained me for a couple of minutes by burping the alphabet, we made our way into the bedroom. I was pretty tired by then, so we just had a bit of a cuddle. Oddly, the soda didn't seem to repeat on me at all, and in fact I found I couldn't burp even if I tried.
I gradually drifted off to sleep, though to be honest it was made somewhat harder by Simon's frequent farting. Again, despite all the beans that didn't seem to be a problem for me. In fact my whole fundament felt rather tense. I was still feeling rather full from the meal so I lay on my back before I could nod off properly. The last thing I could remember was my hiccups seeming to speed up.
I dreamed I was a huge whale swimming through a tropical reef. As the dream went on I broke the surface and turned into an airship, floating through the air, up, up and away. A parrot flew past me squawking "Maria!"
"Maria! Maria! Wake up!"
I was being poked in the side. Oddly, the finger poking me seemed too high up to be able to make contact with my belly.
My eyes snapped open in the dark. There was a dark shadowy mound of some kind outlined against the streetlight-lit curtains. I realised I was hiccupping convulsively fast and needed to fart. I tried to push one out with subtlety by tensing my belly and bearing down, but all that happened was an ache. Then I attempted to lift my head. For some reason I couldn't flex my abdominal muscles.
"What's happening?" I realised I was having to pant to talk. I didn't seem to be able to take any deep breaths.
"I don't know, something weird's happened to you. Look."
Simon turned on the bedside light. I glanced down again. For some reason I seemed to have a cushion on top of my stomach inside my suit. Was this a practical joke?
"Er, have you been playing games with me in the night?"
"No! I just woke up and you were like that. You look like you're about to give birth!"
I lifted a hand up to my zip pull and yanked it down. When I got past my chest, it got stuck because there was a sudden increase in the gradient. Then I realised I could feel my hand resting on top of that mound quite clearly. I moved both hands round my belly and patted it. It rang hollowly and felt tense all over. This was exciting! I hiccupped a couple more times and felt myself involuntarily take a couple more gulps of air.
Simon picked up his mobile and stabbed it frantically.
"Ambulance please, quickly!"
While we waited, Simon zipped me up again and I tried to get myself off my back and sit up. I was so bloated I was expecting to fart and burp as soon as I shifted, but I couldn't. I felt the tension build up but nothing came of it. He managed to give me a big enough shove to shift me onto my side, and then I just rolled easily onto my front. I felt the gas inside me shift outwards and my sides bulged out, but I still couldn't fart or belch at all. I hiccuped again but it did nothing except make me more bloated. Simon pushed me until I was lying across the bed, managed to roll me onto my side, then pulled me up by my arms. I finally struggled into a sitting position, but the roundness of my belly made that really hard. It was pushing my back into an arch and I had to prop myself up against the headboard.
The paramedics arrived.
"Oh, I see," one of them said, "how far apart are the contractions?"
Thinking he meant the hiccups, I replied, "About five seconds."
"What? Oh, never mind. We'll have to get you to hospital anyway. Can you walk?"
"Yes, I suppose so." My diaphragm twitched again and another gulp slipped in as I stood up with Simon's help. Walking was a bit of a struggle. I had to waddle down the hallway, swaying from side to side as I went, and kept feeling the urge to fart but still couldn't. My sides bulged out a bit more as I swallowed more air.
As I lay in the ambulance, I began to feel the urge to take great gasps of air, which I tried to resist due to my bloatedness. Finally, I gave in. I took a huge, convulsive breath in. Then, instead of the expected exhalation, I found myself simply bearing down and breathing out against a closed upper throat into my stomach. There was nothing I could do to stop myself. Then I felt myself take another breath and do the same. I felt even tighter now.
"Doing the breathing are you? It must be triplets, surely?"
It was difficult to speak against the urge to inhale again.
"Wha- what do you mean?"
"Well, your babies?"
"I'm not pregnant,"
"Oh! What's happening then?"
"I've got the hiccups!"
"Uh-huh? You called us out for hiccups?"
I couldn't resist another gasp and once again I involuntarily gulped down the air. There was another gurgle from my increasingly rounded midriff. This seemed to have replaced the hiccups and it was happening every time I breathed now. Another gallon of air every few seconds, and still no sign of burping or farting.
"Can't – stop – gulping – air."
We were now at the hospital. I was wheeled in through the doors of casualty and straight through into a cubicle. I had hicked myself several centimetres fatter by then, but now I was also unable to exhale without pushing it down into my belly. Even so, I had an irresistible urge to do just that. I was trying to restrain myself by holding my breath but that was with a tiny rational sliver of my mind still remaining. It took all my effort to stop the urge to gulp down another whole lungful of air.
A doctor spoke.
"Hello Ms Dawson, I'm Doctor Baxter. We need to get the wetsuit off you before you give birth"
Simon finally spoke up about this.
"Er, she's not pregnant."
"Ah. OK, what's going on then?"
"All that swelling is air. She's inflating like a balloon!"
"Oh, you are kidding me. Hold on."
She reached over and percussed my abdomen. I emitted a satisfying hollow clang. I noticed a metallic taste in my mouth for the first time.
"Oh my God, you're right! Has she by any chance been near the dye factory?"
"Yeah, yes, she's doing field research there for her doctorate."
"Oh". Dr Baxter looked worried.
"What do you mean, 'oh'?"
"Um, well, I have a friend who's a vet and I'm afraid the sheep on a nearby farm have a rather unfortunate problem."
I suddenly remembered the sheep. All this time I'd been holding my breath and I let go, only to feel my diaphragm push upwards and suck yet another gallon of air down. My front started to sting along the line of my zip and I wasn't sure if it was just pressing into me or I was about to split open. I looked down at my huge round mound of a belly, absolutely full to bursting with wind. And still no farting. How come?
"What would that be then?"
"Ms Dawson, have you been bitten by a sheep tick?"
I was holding my breath out so I could only croak a "ye-e-e-e-e-s".
"I see.". She pursed her lips. "I have to tell you something now about the sheep. It's a bit unpleasant."
I took another convulsive gasp. If I spoke now, I knew I'd trigger another gulp, so I hazarded a tiny squeak. "What?"
That was too much and once again my diaphragm forced itself upward and another lungful went into my belly. My already excitingly tense skin stretched even tighter, straining to contain my ballooning organs. I wasn't sure how long this could carry on or what would happen if it didn't. Dr Baxter was about to tell me though.
"There seems to be a mutant spirochaete in their saliva."
Despite my vastly inflated condition, I couldn't help pricking up my ears. This was almost my field. With the scrap of breath left in my forcibly emptied lungs I managed to whisper "Borrelia."
Dr Baxter smiled enthusiastically, "Yes!" She made proper eye contact with me for the first time. She was warming to her subject.
"Yes, it's a species of Borrelia. When a sheep is infected, after a few hours incubation it undergoes several changes. Its metabolic rate speeds up, its anus goes into spasm and it starts to hiccup unstoppably. Each time it empties its lungs, its hiccup opens the sphincter at the top of its stomach and the entire contents of the lungs is drawn into its abdominal organs until its stomach ruptures. Well, in fact it doesn't stop even then. The sheep continues to hiccup and inflates itself until it explodes."
Simon stared at her. "Explodes?! So what's the cure?"
"Well, generally they just cart them off to the abbatoir before they burst or its a waste of money. I don't remember hearing anything about a cure I'm afraid. We had no idea it affected humans. It's always been assumed it's a variant of bloat."
Simon's jaw dropped. For me, it was probably a sign of how far gone I was that I found this news really exciting rather than horrifying. I couldn't wipe the grin off my face.
"Oh yes, forgot to mention. One of the symptoms appears to be euphoria. So I don't know if it's any consolation but your girlfriend is probably really happy."
She was right there. I croaked "oh yes!" before giving into the urge again. Another five litres in my abdomen made my sides ache and twinge with the added pressure. I stroked my belly wonderingly. How could I be so huge, so round, so inflated? What a wonderful way to go.
"But we will try something. Here's a syringe of muscle relaxant." She held up a glistening hypodermic. "Also, we'll intubate her and try to get her deflated. It's a long shot, but..."
She raised a vein and injected the drug. As it took effect, I felt myself bulge even further, but by then I was pretty out of it. I couldn't think of much except for my huge ballooning belly and my insatiable desire to bloat myself until I burst. It was weird how strong the urge was. This was something only I knew about. Sheep weren't good at being interviewed.
They tried to get the tube in. I knew that as soon as it got into my stomach I would just deflate, so I clamped my jaws shut and turned away my head. Simon pinched my nose and after a struggle, I was forced to open my mouth. I took one final, happy gulp of air in and forced it down into my creaking belly before the tube started going down. Ah well. Nice while it lasted. As gently as they could, they passed the tube into my stomach. What was for me a deafening hiss accompanied by a seemingly endless series of loud gurgles heralded my deflation. Sadly, I watched my belly sag back to its previous boring old skinniness. No prizes for guessing how I felt.
The next few hours were pretty unusual. Everybody was clearly very relieved and I just tried to put a brave face on it. I could hardly tell the love of my life how disappointed I was that I hadn't blown myself up like a balloon until I popped rather than spending the rest of my days with him, could I? Luckily, it turned out things weren't quite so bad as I'd thought.
I needed pain killers for the ache in my belly and it was a while before I could eat again. The hiccups were permanent and I still swallowed air involuntarily all the time. I found I could burp again, and every couple of hours I had to belch like anything to get all the air out. It was a day or so before I noticed that although I could go to the toilet fairly normally, I couldn't pass wind any more at all. I couldn't sleep well because I had to wake up every few hours to get rid of the air again.
After I went home, I stopped bothering to burp myself one night and woke up like a balloon again. We found that a massage gave some relief but it took a long time. Even so, I secretly harboured the fact that I really enjoyed waking up like that. The germs had done something to my brain and it was now quietly my deepest desire. I actually loved being bloated. I used to eat beans and drink soda all the time to make it "worse".
I spend the early days with a bit of an outfit problem. I tried my old blouses and jeans on but they weren't much use because if I wasn't careful I'd burst all the buttons off them after a couple of hours and pretty soon I just gave up and threw out my whole wardrobe. I tried loose dresses and long, flowing things but in the mornings they were like tents and by the evening I was often so big they'd rip really easily. After that, I virtually lived in that old favourite, the violet wetsuit. Yes, I got bloated in that too but it would stretch with me and the only problem was the zip cutting into me. When I took it off at bedtime, the teeth left marks all down my front and it looked like I was still wearing it.
Speaking of bed, we did find a more efficient solution to the problem of waking up as a zeppelin after a while. Simon was very keen on this solution as it happened. We found that if he had a quickie on top of his bouncy castle of a girlfriend and it was, well, you know, "nice", I'd go down like a whoopie cushion. It was the best way of getting me to deflate. This meant, of course, that faking it would never be an option, but then again, waking up as a human balloon was so orgasmic in itself that we didn't exactly need to try hard.
Back to my fashion issue. My solution was to buy loads of lycra, latex, PVC, anything which had a lot of stretch in it. Buttons were right out too - I'm not made of money.
The PhD problem was solved too. I gave up the old one and worked with Dr Baxter on the spirochaete. We found there were at least three active compounds in its toxin. One was the euphoric and stimulant, which made a good anti-depressant. A second was the one with the digestive effects, which in smaller doses could be used to stop flatulence and for dysentery. The other one was a respiratory stimulant which was useful for emphysema and asthma.
I don't know for sure if people ever combine the drugs. They're certainly not supposed to - each is a contraindication for the two others. One thing I do know though. Recently, I've seen quite a few very happy-looking women who are seemingly heavily pregnant. There are two things about them. One is that they never seem to give birth. They just seem to stay pregnant for a very, very long time. It's been three years now for one of them. They don't walk as if they've gained weight either.
Oh yeah, there is one other thing about them.
They never fart.