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From: rhajix@aol.com (RHAJI X)
Subject: Self-control ( Expansion)
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SELF-CONTROL

By Inflate123@aol.com 

It wasn't something she considered rational. It wasn't
something she was going to pretend was safe. And it certainly wasn't anything
that she expected anyone else to understand. 

It was a ridiculous idea--she knew that. It was a ridiculous
operation to have. And ridiculously expensive. The doctor--not that she saw
any degree of note--even tried to talk her out of it. Why

not just have children? Why not just gain weight? That wasn't
what she wanted. He didn't understand. But then, nobody did. It was all about
control--hers. And immediate, breathtaking results. 

The healing period was over. The sky was dark. She locked the
door, pulled the shades, turned on one small lamp and prepared the pillows on
the bed. She contemplated wearing one of the outfits she'd bought in
anticipation of this stage, but not yet. Not the first time. She *was* in
control, but she also had to keep her self-control in check. Don't try
anything stupid on the dry run. 


Trembling, she unpacked the box. 
It was surprisingly nondescript. It looked like the same kind
of light-duty equipment you'd find in any hardware shop, but thrice the price
and a tenth the power. That was important. It took this long; the right tools
were essential now.   She carefully inserted the end of the compressor tube
into her belly button, set the control to Low, closed her eyes and turned it
on. 

She was not prepared for the results. 

It was like nothing she'd ever felt before, but everything
she'd hoped. Her eyes didn't stay closed long, as she felt the pressure in her
stomach slowly increase. The compressor hummed to itself contendedly. 

When you blow up a beach ball, it doesn't look round until 3/4
of the way through the job--the pressure's not great enough. In her case, her
outer layer of skin was already somewhat taught--somewhat--so she felt the
roundness immediately. Gingerly, she placed her hands on her abdomen and
slowly traced its changing contour. An arc was rising where there had not been
one before. 

She stared at herself in disbelief. Slowly but surely, she was
inflating herself. This was not a messy pregnancy. This was not a disgusting
weight gain. This was pure air, nothing but basic elements, increasing her,
inflating her. It made her more excited than she had ever been, more filled
and therefore more fulfilled. 

Her belly continued to swell, pumping up from the compressor's
steady, warm stream. She filled out more, tenaciously leaning back on the
pillow and craning her neck to look down her body. The tube now stuck out
perpendicular, secured in her navel, rising slightly as its cargo trickled
into its destination. Her stomach's sides were now starting to round out. She
looked fully pregnant, felt fully erotic, and reveled in the pressure. 

The pressure...as it increased, so did her desire for it. She glanced at the
compressor. Low low? Self control, she reminded herself. You have found what
you were looking for--enjoy it. You can do this every day for the rest of your
life. There is no rush. 

She tried to believe herself. There *was* a rush, one she'd always suspected
but had never achieved. A rush that ran wispy circles around her belly as it
grew larger and fatter. Not fatter, she thought--I'm not fat. I'm full. Well,
filling. Not full yet.She smiled. 

Not full yet, but certainly on her way. She reflected--and, deliciously,
felt--every inch of the balloon inflating inside her, pressing her flesh
outward, rounding it, pumping her full of air. She carefully pressed in on her
sides, only to be shocked by the resistence. Stronger than she thought, but
not taut. Bigger than pregnant, and twice as light. A
fleeting notion of a helium experiment--no, she corrected herself, an
experience--crossed her mind and, while just a fantasy, she realized that it
would be actually happen soon enough. Within days. Within hours. She shuddered
slightly. 

Happily, she realized that there was no concealing herself in her present
state--she looked the way she did because she chose to, because she wanted to
feel what
it was like to inflate. Her committment to living her fantasy was made. And if
someone were to burst in on her, she figured they might be afraid that she was
in fear of bursting herself. 

A nagging need pressed on her mind as her belly pressed onward and outward,
almost fully rounded. Where does this lead? What's the goal? Considering her
questions didn't stop the inflation--she continued to expand, larger and
larger, tighter and tighter, stretching to accomodate the air. She was
fascinated by how big she'd become, a living
balloon, a spherical stomach pumping up...up...up...  She eyed the speed
control nervously. No, she couldn't. She shouldn't, anyway...not until she
knew her new self better. Now is not the time to test limits. She was already
at the brink of orgasm from the intense strain placed on her bloated
waistline. She realized she was full. The
compressor still hummed contentedly. Time to shut off. 

She reached out for the controls and stared at her belly. She almost didn't
see how big it had become. She was not looking at it as it was, but as it
could be. Despite her own best warnings, she was seeing further possibilities.
Possiblities that didn't have to necessarily exist in the future. She was
thinking of the present. She was thinking of the sensations trembling
through her left hand's fingertips as they rested upon her
enormous, inflated belly. She was thinking of her orgasmic fever pitch above
all. 

And then, very much without thinking, her hand clicked the
control to Medium. 


-end-



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