Steven Basic

Post 166: Alone with the Balloon Girl

Added 2021-04-10 19:00:03 +0000 UTC

I’ve tried, I’ve tried so hard but I can’t. The perfume is so strong, my cock is so huge. I can’t sleep.

I’d sat up in bed, after hours of tossing and turning, and had been staring at that thing, standing in the shadows across the room, for nearly a half hour. My mind was a maelstrom, and I was not thinking clearly. I was sweaty, I was hot, I was cold. In fact, I was partially convinced that I was slowly going mad. I was also still incredulous at the lengths these women would go to to torture me, crafting this monstrous, horrifyingly intricate balloon sculpture, but my thoughts were not nearly well-formed enough to coalesce the indignation into any logical decisions. The thing had been haunting me all night, keeping me on edge - from the moment I brought it inside, as I went to eat my sad little dinner at my sad little table, as I tried to ignore it all as I curled up early into bed - and now, 2:14 am, it had me at a point of reckoning.

I am not going to jerk off to you, I told it silently, berating myself once more. Again and again and again I’d needed to steel myself that evening. Between the ever-stronger perfume and the curves and just the goddamn size of he-...of it...the balloon-woman evoked deep-seated fantasies about Melissa, my new Office Manager, over whose burgeoning body I’d spent the better part of my mental energy obsessing for months now. But it was one thing to jerk off to Melissa’s Instagram feed; it was another thing entirely to jerk off to...this. Even in the privacy of my own room, it would be a new low. It would feel...wretched, inferior, small.

It'd been a dream I’d just woken from, one of many that plagued the few fitful stretches of sleep I’d managed so far, that wracked me now. A dream where first I heard the squeaking of balloons, where in horror I’d then seen this thing slowly appear in the doorway to my darkened room as I lay on my bed, paralyzed, waiting for it. The dream was so real and it was alive, moving slowly towards me, as the hideous baby-thing in its arms nuzzled and groped at her huge left breast like a needy, weakling cretin. The giant balloon-woman had been intent on me in its faceless determination, and slowly approached…

Stop! I scolded myself, slapping away the handful of my own cock I’d begun to stroke, through my sleeping shorts, stop stop stop!! You will not do this!! It’s exactly what they want!!

Why else would they make it, the girls in the office? Why would they craft this huge balloon girl if not to drive me insane, show me how powerless I was? Why would they slather it in the perfume that they knew would only grow stronger and slowly stronger, in the confines of my tiny apartment, until it filled the room and drowned me in their mire? They wanted to humiliate me, make me see for myself how small and weak I was, just a man in the face of…

Holy shit those tits, I found myself marveling, staring at the inflated bosom of the giant balloon woman. I’d drifted once more off into fantasy, and had my hand under my waistband...

Before I knew it I’d...I’d gotten off the bed. I’d crawled towards it. I was on my knees, at its feet. My cock was in my hands; I’d given in. Staring at its ankles and mighty calves, its tiny knees. Gaping at its ballooned thighs, up up up, jaw slack. Pumping pumping pumping. I was delirious, in the middle of a vision, a fantasy, a waking masturbatory perfume-induced fever-dream…it was me now in her arms, my cheek squeaking against its smooth chest, her hand pulling down her top, pressing my face into her firm, pneumatic breast, into a nipple that appeared, that I took into my mouth.

Oh my god I am going crazy.

And then the vision changed, I was outside, outside the office, looking over the landscape, to the distance. Cresting it, over the horizon, the thing was huge, obscuring the heavens…