How I met your Balloon

Author:
Inflation Types:
Popping:
Date Written: 
04/12/2020

"Hey, Dad?"

Micheal looked up from the book he was reading on the back patio of his house.  At roughly forty-five years old, he had reached his middle age rather gracefully.  Brushing a stray lock of his notoriously unkempt hair aside, he glanced over his shoulder to see his son, Timothy.  Folding the corner of a page over to mark his place in the novel, he turned to face his child. "Hey, sport. What's up?  I thought you and your friends would be playing that new game of yours. What number is it up to now, Black Ops 28 or 29?"

"Twenty-FOUR, dad, and I'm out here because mom told me to get outside so the cleaning droids could dust." Timothy sighed.  "But yeah, I had a question for ya." He waited a moment, and Micheal motioned for him to continue. "How did you and mom meet?"

Micheal froze for a moment, his eyes widening ever so slightly before settling back into place.  He rubbed his chin, thinking about the best way to answer. "Hmmm… well, kiddo, you're sixteen and a half or so.  I guess I can tell you. Grab me a soda from the fridge and have a seat with me, it's a long story…

====================

It was about 25 years ago.  I had just gotten started on my junior year of college, and your mother, Anabelle, was in most of my classes.  Honestly, I had a crush on her the moment I saw her, but never had the guts to ask her out. We were good friends, but I never expected anything more.  Then one day, about three weeks into the semester, she vanished.

"What happened to her?"

That… even I don't know the whole story.  She was kidnapped, as far as I know. She doesn't like to talk about it, and if I catch word that you're forcing her, you're grounded.  Anyway…

I looked down at the slip of paper in my hand, turning it over one last time to make sure it was real and not some kind of prank.  I read the words on it again, carefully whispering them in my mind. 'You are cordially invited to this month's balloon auction at the Club PSI auction house.  You have been randomly selected and are granted permission to bid on public lots 3,7,12,13, and 20.'

"Ticket please, sir."  A burly security guard stood in my way, blocking the entrance to the famous Club PSI.  Getting in even for a night was expensive, and the inflations and other amenities the place had to offer made it a hotspot for the rich and famous.  I handed over the paper. He stared at it through his dark sunglasses before ushering me inside through one of the doors. I was quickly led to an elevator and taken deep down into the building… floor B3.

"Floor B3?  I don't know anything about that…"

Most brochures for the club don't mention it.  It's for the more extreme folks who enjoy popping and ownership.  Every month, they hold an auction where they permanently sell inflated people… but aside from the few maniacs who don't care who buys them, the inflatee can request that only people of a certain gender, age, race, or anything can bid on them.  I've heard that sometimes they request people by name, and some auctions only have five or six bidders.

"So you met mom at the auction, of all places?"

Yes.  May I continue?

"Lot number 1!  This big berry girl here is looking for a nice owner who doesn't mind her size.  She was chubby before, but now… watch out that she doesn't bowl you over! All participating in lot 1, step forward.  Starting bid is 300$... 310! 325! Can I get a 350?"

"Sold!  Lot number 5 is sold to the lady in the yellow dress!  Come claim your prize, and pay at the counter!"

"Everyone participating in lot number 8, step forward…"

Time seemed to tick by slower than it should have, especially for a fast-paced auction house.  I glanced down at the touchpad provided to me, watching the details of each 'product' flash by as they came up.  Age, gender, former name… whoever bought them legally owned them, so they could change that. To be honest, I was questioning why I had bothered coming.  I didn't need a ballooned person, I was a nearly-broke college student with no room to store one even if I did want one!

"Lot twenty!"  My pad lit up, indicating I could bid on this one.  My bank account had been pre-entered on it, so I could place any bid as long as I had the cash.  "This spry young lass formerly went by the name of Anabelle! What a long name for a balloon."

THAT got my attention.  I whipped my head up, and sure enough, there was Anabelle.  Ana. My friend, inflated helplessly and floating there tied to a small cable on the floor.  She was beautiful, even puffed up as she was. She looked more like a sphere than the girl I knew, but her breasts jutted out of her round form and her face was still there, if a bit obscured by her long blonde hair and her kind voice muffled by the plug in her mouth.  But I noticed something, something nobody else seemed to, even the announcer.

"What did you see, Dad?"

She was crying.

I assume that everyone else didn't notice because all the balloons there are there willingly.  You can't just kidnap someone and inflate them… all the balloons sold that night, and every night, were there of their own free will, having gone through no less than three psychiatric evaluations and signing a serious contract.  But she was crying nonetheless. I looked down at my touchpad. Three thousand dollars in my bank account. I had to do this.

"Our opening price is 300 dol-WHAT?!"  The auctioneer didn't finish his sentence.  In fact, the whole audience went silent for a second.  I had placed the first bid: a thousand dollars. From what I had overheard before the auction started, most of them barely sold for more than 800, as even the rich knew another chance for a living, inflated toy would roll around next month.

"O-one thousand!  A cool grand! Can I get a- FIFTEEN HUNDRED!"  The number shot up again. Everyone else stepped backwards, shock on their faces.  To them, this wasn't worth the money. They all stepped back, but me… and one other man.  He was old, roughly 60 if I had to guess, and he looked like he'd seen a lot. A scar blocked out one of his eyes, and he was missing a tooth, but his suit was pressed as though he had stepped out of dinner with royalty.  He glared at me. I glared back. The numbers rose.

"Eighteen hundred!  No, Nineteen! Can I g- Two thousand!  TWENTY-FIVE HUNDRED! A NEW REC- THREE THOUSAND DOLLARS!"

I broke into a cold sweat.  He had bid that, not me. I had to do something, FAST.  The man was looking incredibly irritated. I grabbed at my back pocket.

"GOING ONCE…"

I pulled out my wallet.  I was so dead for this. Anabelle's tears started flowing faster.

"GOING TWICE…"

I yanked out my mother's credit card.  'only for emergencies,' she had told me.  I swiped it through the reader on the side of the touchpad.

"GOING THREE TIMES…"

I hit 'max bid'.

"So… s… fif…" the auctioneer's speech slowed to a sputtering stop.  Everyone stared at the big, lit-up board that displayed the current bid.

Fifty thousand dollars.  I had maxed out the card.

A loud bang.  Darkness.

"MICHEAL!"

====================

I awoke to the steady beeping of a heart monitor.  Looking around, I found myself in a hospital bed… and my side HURT.  Badly. I let out a loud groan, sluggishly moving a hand to where it hurt.  Why did everything feel so stiff and slow?

"Mike?"

Her words woke me up, like an angel descending from above to offer salvation.  That was Ana's voice. I glanced around the room, slowly. My neck was sore. Everything was sore.  After a few moments that felt like an eternity, I rolled just enough to see a big bouquet of balloons in the corner.  And in the center of it, floating there like all the rest, was Ana. Someone had even written 'get well soon' in a big heart on her exposed belly in some kind of body paint, matching the message printed on the other balloons.

"A...na?  Water…"

"HEY!  MICHEAL'S AWAKE!  CAN I GET A NURSE IN HERE?  Don't worry Mike, I'm here for you."

It wasn't long before first a nurse, then a doctor came running.  They gave me water, checked my vitals, a lot of things. I wasn't paying too much attention.  By the time I regained focus, it was dark. Judging by the moon outside the window, it was nighttime.  Ana was still floating there. Watching me.

"Mike…?  Are you awake?"

"Rgh… yeah… what the hell happened?"

She looked at me, a bit worried.  "You… you saved me. Don't you remember?"  She had more tears in her eyes. "That man… that MONSTER pulled a gun and shot you!  Right in the middle of the auction! They restrained him, and… I kinda bit through the gag they had me in, so I could tell them everything.  He blackmailed me into doing this so he could buy me… bastard ran a gang and threatened to hurt my family if I didn't agree!"

That would have sent me flying into a panic about getting tracked down by some hitman, but I was a little too hopped up on pain medicine to think perfectly straight.  "So… what happened next?"

They took him away and arrested him… his trial's in a few weeks.  I heard they plan to try and permanently inflate him as punishment.  As for me… us… the club voided your bid, the whole thing, and placed a single bid in your name with their money.  I'm yours now. And I'm so grateful."

"...wait, how the hell am I gonna fit you in my dorm room!?"

====================

Micheal crumpled his empty soda can and tossed it in the small recycling bin on the porch as he finished his story.  "...so that's the long and short of it. After I essentially 'bought' my crush, we pretty soon realized that we both had feelings for each other.  We got married pretty soon afterwards, and later on you came along."

"Huh."  Timothy pondered for a moment, allowing his father to relish whatever memory he was recalling at the moment.  "Hey dad, do you think-"

"Son, I'd sooner walk into a sex store in broad daylight and buy you a blowup doll before taking you to one of those auctions."

"Fair enough.  So, uh… what's for dinner?"

"I think I can answer that," replied Anabelle, waddling out.  Even after twenty years of being her husband's balloon, she kept herself inflated to at least large enough to struggle through doorways, often reprising her spherical role as she found it far more comfortable.  "I was thinking we could all go out for pizza. But there's a price~" she spread her puffy arms wide, waiting.

"Family hug?"  Timothy asked.

"Family hug, final offer," Micheal replied teasingly.

Anabelle giggled.  "Going once, going twice, SOLD!  To the best family I could ask for."  They all embraced, and then worked together to squeeze Ana into the car so they could go get some delicious food.  As they drove off, Micheal chuckled under his breath, too quiet for anyone else to hear.

"Best purchase I ever made."

Author's Note: 

Occasionally, among my many rps and chats with other inflation fetishists, I find a muse.  This one's for her.

I'm back, baby!

-Puffy

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