Tags: Belly Inflation, Breast Inflation, Butt Inflation, Full Body Inflation, Female Inflation, Inflation Olympics
Text: Sarah waited as the trio of athletes walked up the bleacher stairs leading to the VIP area where she was seated. As they arrived, the reporter realized that Sandy's presence was commanding even in a lack of inflation, especially when viewed from a seated position. The voluptuous six-foot woman towered over her as the three sidestepped through the aisle to seats adjacent to the reporter. Sandy would be considered curvy at half her present dimensions. As she uncomfortably watched Sandy's voluminous, heavy chest bobbling past her, Sarah wondered if size was a common feature among the women that competed in the events of volume-intensive inflation. It was a reasonable hypothesis that a larger frame accepted a larger volume of helium more readily. "Who was that?" Sarah asked, referring to the encounter she had witnessed with the huge woman in the cranberry leotard down on the track. "No one of consequence," Sandy said distractedly as she folded herself into a seat. She crossed her long legs, a motion that would have been impossible in her previously distended state. Sandy's full lips formed into a slightly downward pout and her honey-colored brows furrowed slightly. "Samantha," Laurie began carefully, "Is unfortunately one of those people that possesses both ego and ability in equally vast amounts." She gestured vaguely down at the black rubber track where the inflated woman was busy posing her swollen physique for the spectators as if all the eyes in the building where upon her. It was very nearly true. "She's always been a show-off." "Well," the reporter offered, "any kind of competition is always going to draw out the occasional person that thinks the world revolves around them." Down on the first row, Samantha was letting curious spectators touch her immensely swollen belly. "If she gets any better at inflating herself, the world might actually start orbiting her," Sandy sighed with rueful humor. Amanda and Laurie chuckled, but Sarah caught the forced edge to the laughter that indicated Samantha was a sore spot with the tall girl. Sandy's manner seemed a mixture of tension and uncertainty. Seeking to change the subject for Sandy's sake, Sarah asked brightly, "Um, listen. Who can I ask about getting a copy of the scorecards for all the events? I don't have a good handle on everything yet, but I may as well get started with learning the basics if I'm going to report on this." Laurie sat up straighter, craning her neck. Pointing down at the edge of the track, she indicated a woman at a folding table in a black and white officiating uniform. "Go see Cynthia down there at the scorekeeper's table," Laurie suggested. "I'm sure she'll be willing to make a second set of copies for you. Just don't go on the track itself, that's for athletes and officials only." "Thanks." Sarah nodded and stood up. She smoothed her clothing and mentally braced herself to walk down into the otherworldly zone of distended flesh that the track area represented. The reporter hesitated on the verge of asking one of the three to come with her, but demurred. "Don't be a coward," she murmured chidingly to herself. "Besides, I don't think the scary balloon women down there will hurt me," she chuckled. As she trod down the bleacher stairs, Sarah couldn't help but feel as if this was all a particularly weird dream. At every point around the track there were small herds of inflated women. They chatted in small groups, their roundly inflated parts bulging to the fore or after of their bodies. Some were stretching, their exertions occasionally tugging their spandex garments out of position to reveal swollen curves of breast, belly or hip. Their overstretched skins gleamed balloon-like in the overhead lighting. Out of her cultural element, Sarah wasn't even sure what to do with her eyes. She tried not to stare at any of the outrageous enormity surrounding her, not wanting to give insult to the curves' owners. "But it's almost impossible not to look," she thought. As a particularly inflated woman waddled by, she internally added, "It's like a train wreck! How can anyone not stare?" Keeping her eyes dead ahead did not work either, as she was constantly at risk of colliding with gigantic bellies that seemed beyond the limits of the human body. Finally she arrived at the scorekeeper's table next to the track, feeling as if she'd walked an awkward mile instead of a few dozen feet. "Excuse me?" she asked the seated official. "Yes? What can I do for you, ma'am?" the slender official asked, turning her attention to Sarah. She pushed her black cap back, revealing green eyes and a drape of loose bangs. In her fingertips, either end of a wax pencil drummed out a rhythm on the tabletop. Sarah felt an odd sense of kinship with her, two uninflated women in a sea of distended bodies. Sarah turned and pointed briefly over her shoulder, indicating the stands. "Laurie told me that you might be able to get me extra copies of the scorecards from today. I'm a reporter that's covering the events." The official's eyebrows registered surprise. "Wow, since when?" the woman asked, curious. "To be honest, I thought maybe the athletes here kind of had figures that were a little outside most news companies' comfort zones." Sarah chuckled uneasily, shifting from foot to foot. "Uh, well, perhaps just a little bit," she agreed. "But it's definitely, um, unlike anything I've seen in the sports world before," the reporter added politely. She was nothing if not skilled at spinning statements diplomatically. "That's the truth," the woman responded. She fanned out the scorecards before her, glancing at them. "Anyway, no problem, ma'am. I'll make a duplicate of each of these, and the following events. Just swing by at the end of the games and I'll have them ready for you." The official hesitated, before adding, "and thanks, ma'am. I'm sure the athletes will be glad they're finally getting a little media recognition." The woman turned back to her work, grabbing a blank scorecard and beginning to copy the values. Sarah murmured awkward thanks, feeling a little sheepish that she couldn't help wondering why some of these women didn't talk to tabloid magazines if they wanted media recognition. "Secret society of balloon-girl athletes discovered," the headlines would say. The reporter took a pace backwards to retreat to the safety of the stairs and immediately collided with warm, rubbery tautness. Perplexed by the alien sensation, the curious part of her brain reflexively reached a hand backwards to squeeze a handful of something much like a balloon. An inhalation of feminine surprise came from over her shoulder. Only then did her cortex catch up and make conscious realization of where she was and what she'd just done. Sarah spun, finding a handful of Samantha's considerable right buttock in her grasp. The woman glanced over her shoulder at Sarah with arched eyebrows. Samantha's expression of mild surprise was slowly replaced by a thousand-watt smile of such width that it even revealed a few molars. "Oh my god! I'm so sorry!" Sarah croaked helplessly. She yanked her hand from Samantha's bottom and banished it behind her back as if she was punishing her offending limb for its accidental faux pas. The reporter's face flushed crimson in embarrassment. "Don't be sorry, dear," Samantha purred. She reached down with a manicured hand and adjusted the material covering her swollen behind. The woman's disconcerting smile made it clear that Sarah's inadvertent grope had added more fuel to the fires of Samantha's ego. She turned around with a swivel of her huge hips and faced Sarah. This simple act swung her weightless, yard-wide belly disarmingly quickly and brought the distended sphere to bear on the stammering reporter. The bold, white text 'Helium Queen' stood out on the cranberry leotard covering her vast belly. "I always have time for my fans," she said, her voice dipping unexpectedly into a sensual murmuring of smoky, honeyed tones. Samantha stepped forward and pressed her swollen belly flush against the torso of the shocked reporter. Sarah squawked in disbelief, speechless from the bizarre nature of the situation. Her sense of reason complained stridently that Samantha's belly felt so much like taut, stretched rubber. In any case, nothing had ever prepared her for how to react to someone trying to intentionally push their belly against her. She staggered backwards to escape the socially awkward pressure of Samantha's swollen body and bumped against the dividing barrier of the bleachers behind her. "There's no need to be shy," Samantha chuckled. Seemingly unaware or uncaring of Sarah's discomfiture, Samantha stepped across the gulf that had formed between them. She pressed her abdomen against Sarah once again, this time pinning the reporter between the barrier and the bizarre, rubbery tension of her stomach. Sarah squealed, wriggling in place like a trapped tortoise. Samantha's belly felt like an immense yoga ball, the taut pressure of the abdomen pressing against Sarah's body and compressing her modest breasts. The reporter struggled helplessly, her hands ineffectually pushing against the doughy resilience of Samantha's belly. The inflated woman chuckled as if tickled. "I-I'm not a fan!" Sarah stammered, hoping this bizarre treatment was something this lunatic reserved for her admirers. "NOT a fan?" Samantha asked dangerously, her smile turning off as if it had been shut off with a switch. Rather than bringing relief, this admission caused Samantha to step even closer. The smaller girl's torso was almost engulfed in Samantha's belly, the tip of her chin scant inches from being buried in Samantha's cleavage. "I-I'm a reporter," Sarah squealed, a pleading tone winding through her voice. "A reporter!" Samantha repeated. Her disconcerting smile returned again, even bigger than before. "That's different." She leaned back slightly to remove some of her belly's pressure against the squirming reporter. "You must be here to interview me," she purred, no hint of a question being audible in her voice. Sarah looked left and right helplessly. "Um, yes, y-yes, of course!" Sarah agreed, trying her best not to stammer. Samantha regally decreed, "Very well, you may begin." There was a slow pause as Sarah's mind processed the situation. Sarah waited for the statuesque woman to step back, but this event was not forthcoming. The reporter wiggled slightly. "Could you please stop squishing me against the wall first?" Sarah meekly asked, hoping she sounded polite. "No," Samantha replied simply with her eyebrows raised, seeming sublimely shocked that Sarah had even asked. The reporter's mind raced. She'd never had to conduct an interview in such bizarre circumstances, pinned between a wall and a belly that seemed only slightly smaller than the moon. Sarah squirmed and withdrew the micro-cassette recorder from her slacks, barely able to locate her pocket beneath the swell of Samantha's belly. She set the device atop the bulge of the inflated woman's abdomen and turned it on. Delicately, Sarah inquired, "Can you s-state your full name, ma'am, and tell me a little about the events you're competing in today? P-please?" "My name is Samantha Cartwright," the other replied immediately, a smug undertone indicating that she felt everyone should already know that particular piece of information. "In a few minutes, I will be competing in the Maximum Volume Time Retention event. You get as big as you can, and hold it for as long as you can. It bores me." She settled into a more comfortable stance, her belly sliding slightly down Sarah's form. "Why does it b-bore you, ma'am?" Sarah asked, trying to sound interested, though the only thing she really desired at this point was freedom. "Because," Samantha yawned, "I'll win. There're always a few that seek to challenge me, but they don't have my will to stretch, you see?" She reached out an arm in a grand gesture down along her body, presumably meant to be indicative of her own greatness. "I've heard that one of the other competitors n-named Sandy can get rather huge as well, aren't you concerned about her abilities?" Sarah asked. Samantha rolled her eyes, cocking her hips and resting one hand on the higher one. The woman's vast belly rubbed against Sarah like an unruly and worryingly affectionate whale. "My dear, 'huge' is relative, and compared to me Sandy's 'huge' is not very huge at all. Ask me some questions that are actually interesting," Samantha sighed, tapping an unseen foot below her girth. Sarah tried mightily to come up with anything semi-intelligent, a difficult proposition in the present situation. Meanwhile, Samantha's face began to slowly dip closer to the reporter's own countenance. "Umm, how would you d-describe this sport to someone that knows nothing about it? What's the essence of it?" Sarah inquired, hoping this impossibly ballooned woman would like the question. Samantha actually thought about the question briefly. She chuckled, "That's simple. It's a fetish. Paraphilia. We get off on being huge." Samantha brushed back a few locks of her dyed, reddish-purple bangs, her smile larger than ever. "Excuse me?" Sarah asked, genuinely paying attention now. Laurie hadn't mentioned anything quite so bold, though she'd tap-danced around the issue and said that it felt good. "We like being enormous. You don't think we make ourselves into human balloons for our health, do you?" Samantha asked rhetorically. Sarah considered the differences between Samantha's statement and what Laurie had said previously. "Others haven't really played up the, um, erotic value of the sport," Sarah truthfully observed. Samantha smirked and mimicked the reporter's phrasing, "Others probably don't like admitting to the 'normals' that they get aroused by blowing up like a balloon. The sport context adds an extra element of competitiveness to our quest for size." She wet her full lips, leaning her face even closer to Sarah than it had been before. "Just between you and me, shame is not a quality I possess in abundance, reporter girl. I don't have any problem admitting my kinks. When I say it feels orgasmic, you can depend upon it." "W-whatever you say," Sarah readily agreed. She squirmed helplessly, her already-invaded personal space being further compromised by Samantha's face drawing uncomfortably close to her own. She pulled her head as far back against the barrier as she could. She tried to squeeze out from between the wall and Samantha's belly, but she was pinned in far too tightly by the enormous sphere. "Here, let me show you," Samantha said huskily. She leaned forward, her full lips almost grazing Sarah's own. A curious light was in the taller woman's eyes, a bizarre mixture of hunger, desire and playfulness. The enormous woman's lips seemed quirked in an almost predatory smirk. "Uhh," Sarah stammered helplessly, squirming and pawing against Samantha's waistline in a futile attempt to get free. If anything, Samantha seemed fascinated by the reporter's struggles rather than annoyed by them. Samantha chuckled, a rich, lusty murmur of laughter. "Open wide and say 'ah,'" she purred. She leaned closer to Sarah, her lips just barely beginning to graze her mouth. Just then, Sarah's world was shaken by a terrific, reverberant impact from her right. It sounded as if the world's largest basketball had just been bounced. Sarah was disoriented by the impact, stars dancing in her vision. Samantha flew a dozen feet to the left, literally rolling head over heels on the ball of her belly. Sarah's recorder clattered to the side of the track. "That's enough of that!" Sandy shouted at Samantha, her expression angry. Sandy stood at Sarah's right, her own body inflated once again. Evidently, her swollen form was the source of the terrific impact that had sent Samantha sprawling. "You're never any fun anymore, Sandy," Samantha pouted. With an air of injured pride, she dusted off one of her swollen flanks and awkwardly rolled to her feet. "See you at the helium tanks." She adjusted her leotard and favored Sarah with a sly wink. Through Samantha's slightly-parted lips, Sarah saw the woman's tongue make an unusual motion against her teeth. Samantha raised her fingers to her lips and made an exaggerated gesture of blowing a kiss towards Sarah. There was a sudden pneumatic hiss from the woman's mouth, and a strong puff of air hit Sarah in the face from a dozen feet away, the breeze blowing a few strands of Sarah's bangs back from her forehead. Sarah gasped in surprise, taking an involuntary step back from the unexpected blast of air. Samantha smirked smugly, chuckling, "Maybe next time we can have some fun, reporter girl." She turned and strutted towards the center of the arena without another backward glance. "Sorry about that, Sarah," Sandy apologized, embarrassed. She bit her lip gently. "I came down a few minutes ago to inflate and stretch out for the event. I was looking around for you, but I couldn't see you with her body between you and me. It took me a while to figure out where you were. I got her off of you as soon as I noticed." Sarah shook her head numbly, mind reeling. "Why was she trying to kiss me?" Sarah asked, not sure of what else to say. Sandy looked askance, shuffling her feet awkwardly. "She wasn't going to kiss you," Sandy replied. She appeared to be uncomfortably considering her words. "She was going to blow you up like a balloon." "Pardon me?" Sarah squealed in disbelief. She swung her head around, watching back along the way Samantha had gone. Samantha was still walking towards the center of the rubberized track, the woman's wide, inflated hips swinging back and forth as a result of what could only be intentional effort. She sauntered past a shorter woman in a striped, referee uniform going to opposite direction, who stopped as she approached. The official poked Samantha in her considerable waistline. "Ms. Cartwright, I expect there won't be any issue with you trying to sneak in any extra helium this time around?" the referee asked, Sarah's ears barely able to pick up the distant words. "Does it really matter?" came Samantha's laughing reply as she turned to face the other woman. "Just get rid of it before the event," the referee sighed. "Don't make this a circus." "You're the boss," Samantha said, smirking and assenting with a mocking bow that almost caused her pressurized belly to bump the ground. She continued on her way, proceeding perhaps fifteen feet before she passed a small knot of mildly inflated women in leotard suits, chatting amicably amongst themselves. Unexpectedly, Samantha seized the blonde girl nearest her by the shoulder straps of her orange garment, and whipped her around to face her. "Special delivery," Samantha purred, pressing her lips against the woman's shocked, open mouth. "Mmmf!" the woman murmured, her arms pushing against Samantha's belly in resistance. Sarah heard another sharp hiss of flowing helium, and the woman's waistline began to swell as Samantha's own girth diminished. The athlete's struggles to push away from Samantha gradually gave way to a discomfited pawing at her own waistline, her facial expression visible past Samantha's cheek as one of strained fullness. When the two each bore a waistline of approximately equal size, Samantha broke the kiss. "Dammit, you know I can't hold this much!" the woman groaned, cradling her strained waist. She put a shielding palm across her lips as she delicately allowed the helium to slip back up her esophagus. "Just trying to help you build capacity," Samantha said, smirking. She released the woman's shoulder-straps and gave her belly a possessive squeeze. "Later," she added, continuing to walk. The blonde woman glared daggers at Samantha's back, continuing to deflate her uncomfortably full stomach. She turned back to her conversational companions, angry and red-faced. They shook their heads sympathetically. Sarah turned to look back at Sandy, the reporter's mouth gaping. Sandy had her right hand placed over her eyes in embarrassment. Her cheeks were tinged deeply pink. "Well, um, blow you up like that," the tall woman clarified, dropping her hand. Sandy's expression was one of nervousness. Sarah shook her head in disbelief. "But my skin isn't even stretchy like all of yours!" Sarah exclaimed. Sandy shrugged helplessly. "I know. But Samantha doesn't really care about things like that. I've seen a lot of her fans with stretch marks on their waists. She blows people up for fun, sometimes," the inflated woman awkwardly admitted. The shock of Sarah's encounter started to fade and anger began to rise in the reporter. Sarah put her hands on her hips and accusingly demanded, "Why didn't any of you tell me this was some kind of creepy fetish sport? I'm out of here!" Sandy spread her hands diplomatically, trying to pacify her. "Whoa, whoa, wait a minute. I don't know what Samantha told you. But yes, I'll be honest, this sport is arousing to play. I never said it wasn't, and I don't think Laurie or the others would deny it either. But hear me out," Sandy said, attempting to mollify the smaller girl. Sarah crossed her arms, waiting. Sandy continued, "Aren't most physical sports enjoyable because they cause the release of endorphins? That's why they're exhilarating, right?" "Well," Sarah, said, hesitating. Sandy forged ahead. "So why does it matter if the endorphins are from exertion, arousal, or both? The result is exhilaration either way," Sandy reasoned. "I know it must sound like a very strange thing to get aroused about, but it's harmless. Everyone's involved in this consensually here. " "I wasn't consenting to what Samantha just tried to pull," Sarah fumed, putting emphasis on the word 'I.' She nervously looked around as if she expected to find balloon people waiting in ambush for her. Sandy shook her head, honey-colored locks waving. "Samantha is crazy, Sarah! I won't let her do anything like that again." Sandy licked her lips, clasping her hands in front of her enormous breasts. "Please don't judge the rest of us by her. Try to keep an open mind. Please?" She watched the reporter for some sign of her reaction. "Alright," Sarah murmured. "I guess there's nothing written that says a sport has to be based around physical exertion only. But I have to say, it seems like it'd make more sense to base one around actually arousing things. You know, as opposed to blowing up." "Hey," Sandy interjected, poking Sarah's shoulder playfully, "you still haven't tried it, how do you know it's not?" Sarah sighed, letting out a small, disbelieving laugh. Shaking her head, the reporter murmured, "Don't even start." She bent to retrieve her recorder from the ground. As she stood, her head bumped Sandy's belly with a drum-like reverberation. "Sorry," she muttered. "It happens," the taller girl assuaged her, belly wobbling with the mild chuckle she let out. "Anyway, thanks," Sarah added. Sandy arched an eyebrow interrogatively. "For not letting me get blown up like a balloon, I guess," the reporter clarified, feeling ridiculous as she said the words. Sandy laughed, her green spandex leotard creaking as she inhaled. "You're welcome. Now head back up to the seats, the event will be starting soon if you still want to stay. I'll put Samantha in her place for you." The inflated woman sobered slightly. "Well, maybe. I'll try." "Good luck," Sarah said, with guarded enthusiasm. She turned and walked up the rows of bleachers, Laurie looking at her in surprise as the reporter made her way back up to their row. Sarah sat down again beside the red-headed woman, sighing heavily. She felt vaguely shell-shocked after her experiences down on the field and with the long gauntlet of inflated bodies that she'd had to navigate. Staring straight ahead, Sarah dwelled uncomfortably on the memory of Samantha pinning her predatorily to the wall as she insisted these games were some variety of fetish sport. "I was wondering where you'd gotten to," Laurie said, an interrogative tone apparent in her voice. "Were you able to find the scorekeeper?" "Yes," Sarah said, voice taut and controlled. "I found her okay. I was getting the inside story about the games, that's all." "Oh?" the other woman inquired, one eyebrow lifted. "Who from?" "Samantha," Sarah flatly replied, glancing down at her knees. A shadow seemed to briefly pass over Laurie's face. The woman crossed her arms, and blew out a short sigh. Laurie cautioned, "Sarah, Samantha's a bit eccentric, I wouldn't really put too much credence into whatever she said." She turned and glanced down at the field, chewing the left corner of her lower lip in mild anxiety. "Also, to my very great surprise, she tried to use me as a balloon," the reporter murmured. Amanda and Laurie both sat up, spines straight. "What?" snapped the two of them simultaneously. Voice deadpan, Sarah elaborated, "she was apparently going to blow helium down my throat, until Sandy dragged her off of me." Amanda gaped, lips threatening to quirk into a disbelieving smile. Laurie quickly stifled the half-formed grin with a glare at the other woman. Amanda covered her mouth with her hands, fingertips forming a steeple above her nose. The lithe, black-haired woman looked to her left in embarrassment. "Sarah, I'm sorry. That's unacceptable. I'll talk to her about this," Laurie began, but Sarah lifted a hand from her lap and interrupted. "Are things like this going to keep happening?" she asked. "I have to admit, I'm feeling rather freaked out at the moment, and I'm pretty close to wanting to leave." Down on the field, several officials were using hand trucks to move some tanks off of the track area. Laurie shook her head. "It's my fault entirely, Sarah. I shouldn't have let you walk down there alone. I wasn't thinking," Laurie apologized, handfuls of the grey spandex covering her thighs clenched nervously between her fingertips. Amanda recovered her composure somewhat, slowly lowering her hands from her mouth. "Did she just come up to you out of the blue?" Amanda asked. Sarah glanced over in Amanda's direction. "Yes. Well, sort of. I backed into her and squeezed her butt," Sarah said, uncomfortably. Disbelieving looks began to form on the faces of the other two women, lips widening. "Not like that! It was an accident," Sarah clarified. Laurie blinked, shaking her head slightly. "Um, well, I'd certainly recommend not doing that in the future," Laurie laughed. She sobered and continued, "but of course that doesn't excuse her behavior. I'll talk to her about it." Sarah cleared her throat and admitted, "Also, I'm a little annoyed that you didn't tell me the full story earlier. Sandy and Samantha both agreed that these are fetish games." Laurie waved her palm, interjecting. "I said it felt good!" Laurie insisted helplessly. Amanda failed to comment, her cheeks slightly coloring. "Laurie, you said it felt good. Feeling good isn't the same thing as people giving each other blowup French kisses in the middle of what's supposedly a serious relay race," Sarah murmured, shaking her head. "In the past few hours I've also seen a locker room packed with human dirigibles, been pinned to a wall by a belly bigger than me, and escaped nearly being blown up like a balloon. This isn't normal, Laurie. This stuff doesn't happen when I go to football games." Sarah flung her arms wide in exasperation. The redhead looked askance, not meeting the reporter's eyes. Sarah continued, "I'm not some investigative journalist! I write sports columns. I don't want to have to be a detective to figure out what's going on here." Sarah lapsed into silence, evidently waiting for a reply. "You're right," Laurie soberly agreed. "But appreciate our position. It's hard to ask a complete stranger, 'hey, do you want to come write a story about our perverted sport?' I'm sorry I wasn't more direct earlier. We were worried you might not come, if we said too much up front." Laurie sighed, adding, "Anyway, it's true what Sandy and Samantha said. It's as much a fetish as it is a sport. I'm sorry you felt mislead." Laurie wrung her hands in her lap, her expression not one totally of guilt, but one mixed with nervousness and desire to be understood. Sarah nodded, inclining her head in recognition of the apology. "If I'd known in advance, I probably wouldn't have come," Sarah admitted, agreeing with Laurie's voiced worry. "To be frank, I'm feeling extremely uncertain about this whole thing. But I'm here, I guess I can try to stay for a little longer." Laurie looked relieved. "Thank you, Sarah. I know we've sort of messed up on presenting the right face to you so far. We're really grateful for your presence here. I just hope you realize our reticence is from nervousness," Laurie said. Down below the bleachers, most of the helium tanks from the relay had been removed. Several other officials were bringing out more. These new tanks were considerably larger. "I guess so," the reporter agreed, watching the arriving tanks suspiciously. "But in the long run, honesty is the best policy if you want me to be able to actually write a credible story about this stuff," Sarah pointed out. Both other women nodded their heads in hesitant agreement. "We'll try to give you whatever information you need," Amanda offered, breaking her embarrassed silence. The reporter considered her response for a moment, gazing down onto the track and watching the preparations of the officials. "Here's the big question, I guess. What's the appeal of this?" Sarah asked. "Laurie, I know earlier you said it felt good, but lots of things feel good. If you're so determined to have some kind of erotic sport, why make it about being a human balloon?" She involuntarily giggled slightly at the end of her sentence, verbally stumbling over the ridiculous juxtaposition of words. "Why this?" Laurie pursed her lips, tapping a finger on her knee as she thought. "Pressure," Laurie said, pausing slightly. Her countenance bore the expression of someone confessing guilty secrets. "The fuller you get, the more intense every sensation becomes. The more you have in you, the more you want. Once you reach that point of taut fullness, you feel so stretched that a single poke could pop you, but everything feels so good that you want more," Laurie continued, her cheeks coloring as she talked. "Even though you know it's crazy to want it, and that you're a human balloon." The redhead lapsed into silence then, fingers covering her awkward smile. The reporter shook her head slightly, expression surprised and uncertain. "Do you do any athletics yourself, Sarah?" Amanda asked. She leaned slightly towards the reporter from across Laurie's seat. "Um, swimming. I also did track in college," Sarah said. Amanda leaned further towards her. "You know how you reach that point when you're totally exhausted, and every muscle burns? But for some reason, it feels good, you feel that burn, and it makes you want to keep going?" Amanda inquired, her black eyebrows raised interrogatively. "Runner's high," Sarah said, supplying the terminology. Amanda nodded. The Asian woman cupped her own breasts in her palms. "It's like that," Amanda said hesitantly. "When I inflate my boobs, I mean when they start to get really full, the skin pulls tight and the stretch starts to burn." She let her hands fall away from her bosom, staring down into her cleavage. "Even though it's a little uncomfortable, the pleasure is stronger. I want to get bigger. Tighter. I want to push them further," she said, her eyes softly lidded, as if savoring a memory. Sarah was barely processing this information as a pair of black-clad spheres brushed against the side of her head with the whisper of sliding spandex. Sarah jolted backwards in shock, pushing against the doughy, black domes. Her fingers sank into the swollen orbs that the reporter belatedly realized belonged to Lindsey's backside. "I'm back. With pants. 'Scuse me," Lindsey said, attempting to sidle across Sarah in the gap between the bleachers to an empty seat. "Guwaah!" Sarah yelped in shock at the intruding derriere, pawing at it as if she was trying to ward off some kind of leak from a dam. "Whoops, Sarah, I'm sorry!" Lindsey giggled, looking over her shoulder. She minced across as best she could, moving the offending buttocks away from the reporter. "A butt that changes size is hell on your perception of the space you occupy," the blonde girl laughed. Lindsey had returned from the locker room after having replaced her burst pants, now wearing a black tank-top and a pair of black bicycle shorts, the latter stretched to the limit. Lindsey seated herself beside Amanda, her compressed bottom nearly filling three and a half feet of width and making it look as if she was seated atop a black beanbag chair. At the waistband of the bicycle shorts, the enormous, tanned cleavage of Lindsey's rear winked out from behind. Sarah stared for a moment, before finally breaking into a genuine laugh for the first time in quite a while. The three athletes quizzically looked at the laughing reporter. "I'm sorry," Sarah sputtered helplessly, barely able to speak through the laughter. "Oh god, the laugh just...slipped out, Lindsey, you look...l-like you're sitting in a bucket seat, made...m-made totally of butt!" she managed to say before dissolving into howling giggles. Lindsey's face appeared surprised for a moment, followed by her mouth crinkling into a grin. "Well, duh," Lindsey replied playfully, laughing. "I basically am." She ran her hands down and up her swollen flanks, ending with an affectionate pat of the tops of her buttocks. Amanda and Laurie giggled lightly. Laurie masked her involuntary smile with her fingertips. "I am unique in that I never mind sitting on hard seats," Lindsey laughed. "The wonder-butt makes everything feel like a recliner chair to me!" Sarah shook her head, stifling giggles. The reporter tossed up her hands in a gesture of submission. "Okay, okay," Sarah said helplessly. "You're balloon girls and you like it. I'm still not sure I totally understand, but I'll roll with it for now." Laurie visibly relaxed in her seat, smiling. "Thanks, Sarah," the redhead said. She laughed, "we may be perverts, but we're not all bad. I promise." Laurie seemed as if a weight had been taken off her shoulders.