Chapter 2: The Weight of Ecstasy
The world had dissolved into a pounding of blood and the deep, groaning creak of overstressed latex. James gasped for air, his vision filled with the pale, veined swell of Sophie’s breasts. They were hot and heavy, a delicious, suffocating weight pinning him to the floor, each mammoth tit easily larger than his own torso. He could feel her frantic heartbeat through them, a wild drum against his sternum.
“Fuck, James… oh my god, I can’t…” Sophie’s voice was a strangled moan from somewhere above the mountainous flesh. Her hips, the only part of her he could still see, ground down onto him, her soaked cunt swallowing his cock in wet, clenching increments. The sensation was blinding—the sheer tight, hot pressure of her, combined with the impossible reality of her body.
“That’s it, darling,” Miss Blow’s voice purred, close to his ear. He felt her hand, cool and firm, guide his own up to clutch the massive curve of Sophie’s left breast. The skin was stretched shiny-tight, hot as a fever. “Feel that density. That’s just the beginning. You feel how much she wants it? How much she wants to be bigger?”
Sophie let out a choked sob that turned into a shuddering cry as James squeezed. “Yes! God, yes… bigger… please…”
“See?” Miss Blow laughed, a sound like tinkling bells. “She’s a natural. Now, let’s not let the others feel left out.”
James’s head swam. The “others.” He managed to turn his face to the side, his cheek smushed against Sophie’s pillowy flesh. The four attendants were a knot of intertwined limbs and gargantuan breasts in the corner of the room—the room itself now a living, breathing cavity inside one of the blimps, the walls pulsing gently with a slow, rhythmic flow. Two of the women were kissing deeply, their tongues sliding over each other while their hands mauled each other’s inflated tits. Another had her head thrown back, a fourth woman’s lips latched onto her nipple, sucking and nibbling as her own hands worked between her splayed thighs.
Miss Blow snapped her fingers.
The four oversized bike pumps, which had been leaning against the fleshy wall, jerked upright. Their hoses, each with a Y-shaped splitter, snaked across the floor with a dry, sinuous rustle. One pair of hoses, capped with gleaming metal nozzles, found the two kissing attendants. Without breaking their passionate lock, they each reached a hand down, guiding the nozzles to their own waiting nipples.
A sharp hiss-chug filled the room.
“Ah! Fuck!” one of them gasped into the other’s mouth as the inflation hit. Their already massive breasts began to swell further, pressing against each other, creating a canyon of cleavage that deepened by the second. The sound of the pumps was mechanical, obscene, and relentless.
Miss Blow, still kneeling behind James, ran a hand down his sweat-slicked back. “Watch them, James. Watch while you fuck your girl. This is what bliss looks like.”
He was helpless to do anything else. Sophie rode him with a desperate, broken rhythm, her movements limited by her tremendous new weight. Each drop of her hips was a seismic event, sending jolts of pleasure up his spine. He could feel his own orgasm coiling, low and dangerous.
The two attendants on the floor were next. The hoses found them. One nozzle pressed into a waiting pussy, the other against a stiff, dark nipple. The woman screamed, her back arching off the floor as her stomach began to distend, not with air, but with a visible, rolling fullness that made her look heavily, impossibly pregnant. Her tits swelled in tandem, round and full.
“Christ,” James breathed.
“Not Him, darling. Just me,” Miss Blow whispered. Her hands left his back and he felt her stand. He heard the rustle of her latex corset, the wet sound of her touching herself. “Sophie, my beautiful blossom, are you ready for your second?”
Sophie could only whimper, a high, needy sound. James felt her internal muscles clamp down on him like a vice. She was close.
“Good girl.”
Miss Blow didn’t use a pump for Sophie. Instead, she gestured with two fingers. From the glistening, pulsating wall of the blimp-room, two deflated balloons peeled themselves free. They were a deep, lustful red. They floated over, like obedient pets, and slipped under the wreckage of Sophie’s stretched top, coming to rest against her rock-hard nipples.
James felt the change in Sophie immediately. She froze atop him, a full-body tremor seizing her. “What… oh… oh god, what is that?”
“A little pinch, darling. A little kiss.”
The balloons began to inflate.
James could see them push against the thin, torn fabric of Sophie’s top, growing from nothing to the size of softballs, then beach balls, their red latex stretching, growing translucent. They pressed Sophie’s monumental breasts even harder down onto his chest. He couldn’t breathe. He didn’t want to.
Sophie’s mouth opened in a silent scream. Her hips began to piston against him, wild and unfocused. The balloons were huge now, each one larger than her own head before the inflation began, their necks taut lines leading back to the wall. They rubbed and rotated against her nipples with a soft, squeaking friction he could hear.
“They’re gonna… I’m gonna…” Sophie babbled.
“Yes, you are,” Miss Blow said, her voice a spell. “Now.”
The balloons didn’t pop. They detached from their hoses with a soft ploop sound. For a second, they just rested there, giant red orbs straining against Sophie’s chest. Then, as if guided by invisible hands, the rubber necks of the balloons twisted, narrowed, and sealed themselves onto her nipples, forming a perfect, airtight seal.
Sophie’s eyes flew wide. “They’re sucking! They’re… oh fuck, it’s pulling my insides out!”
It was deflation. The colossal balloons began to shrink, but not into the air. Their volume was pumping into her. Into her milk ducts, her tissue, her very cells. James watched, hypnotized, as the red spheres dwindled, collapsing in on themselves, their substance forcibly fed back into Sophie’s body through her nipples.
The effect on her was instantaneous and catastrophic. Her back arched so severely he thought it would snap. A raw, guttural scream tore from her throat, a sound of ultimate pleasure and unbearable strain. Her cunt clamped down on James’s cock in a series of brutal, rhythmic pulses. Her orgasm wasn’t a wave; it was a detonation.
It triggered his own. With a choked shout, he came, pumping his load up into her contracting heat, his vision whiting out as the pressure of her breasts on his ribs finally stole all his air.
He was only dimly aware of the balloons, now small and shriveled, dropping away from Sophie’s nipples. In their place, the waiting hoses from the pumps snapped forward, the metal nozzles clamping onto her red, wet nipples with a decisive click.
Sophie, still convulsing in the aftershocks, went limp. Her full, impossible weight settled onto James, a warm, smothering blanket of flesh.
Miss Blow sighed in satisfaction. “One.”
James was still hard. He could feel it, buried deep inside Sophie’s spasming heat. The orgasm had done nothing to soften him; if anything, the sight, the sounds, the feel of it all had wired him into a state of permanent, aching arousal.
Miss Blow stepped back into his view. Her yoga ball-sized breasts were free of the corset now, swaying heavily. She was touching herself, two fingers working in brisk circles over her clit. “You see, James? This is just the warm-up. The pumps are engaged now. They’ll fill her slowly, achingly, until she’s begging for the next peak.” She leaned down, her breath hot on his face. “And you’ll be there, trapped beneath her, feeling every single cubic inch of air I put inside her. You’ll feel her get heavier. Fuller. Bigger.”
She straightened up, addressing the room. “Ladies, your turn to play with the toy.”
The attendant whose stomach was swollen walked over on her knees. Her face was flushed with pleasure. She didn’t say a word, just placed her hands on Sophie’s shoulders and leaned down, taking James’s mouth in a deep, hungry kiss. She tasted of sweat and latex. Another attendant, her lips glistening from where she’d been sucking nipple, crawled to his side and began to lick his neck, her hands kneading his biceps.
The hiss-chug of the pumps intensified. James felt it. A new, deep tension entering Sophie’s body. A slow, relentless pressure building from within her breasts. A tightness that made her already monumental flesh feel as dense as stone.
Beneath him, pinned and utterly possessed, James heard Sophie whisper, slurred with pleasure, “More… James… make it more…”
The pumps hissed. The swollen attendant kissed him harder. And Miss Blow laughed, her fingers moving faster on her own body, her eyes fixed on the place where the hoses vanished into Sophie’s swelling flesh.
“Two more to go, my darlings,” she moaned. “Then we get to the real fun.”