Addicted...

Enough is never enough.

The hissing and creaking of skin. Constant tingling of pleasure spreads across each inch of the expanse of my body. Experienced so often, her flesh is flushed red and achingly tender to the touch.

"Huff... huff... It's not enough."

Falling backwards, she lays across her bed. Staring at the ceiling, legs hanging off unto the floor. Sweat beads on her forehead, and a thin layer coats her engorged belly. Gingerly, lovingly, she runs her hands over the bloat of her middle. Stretched, distended, covered in stretch marks and shining, glistening, in the dim light of sunset.

"I... I need more."

She reaches for her pump once again. Feeling the burning ache in her wrists and forearms flare up. Letting her arms go limp.

"... Damnit."

Tears begin to well up in her eyes. Chest feeling tight. Heart beginning to ache with need. The constant pumping having left her with aches in her joints.

"I need more..."

Again her hands fall to her belly, rubbing in circles on her sides. Sending sweet tinglings and waves of pleasure throughout her body, the skin stretched so tightly that each nerve can barely distinguish pain from pleasure anymore. With a trembling smack, she arches her back, a jolt of pleasure shooting deep into her loins. Already slick pussy trembling with need around the hose inserted up her canal.

"Fuck.... fuck fuck fuck...."

She continues to smack her stomach, trying to work herself closer and closer to orgasm with each thumping moment of pleasure. Beginning to rake her fingernails across the tender skin.

"Ohhhhh.... I'm... I'm gonna..."

Biting her lip, inhaling sharply, she digs her fingers into her stomach. Pain and pleasure mingling and spiking, climaxing in erotic inflated agony throughout her body.

"Ahhhhahnnn!!!"

Collapsing limp onto the bed again, she basks in the afterglow. Savouring the fleeting pleasure, already beginning to leave her body. Leaving behind only the tingling numbness. Like an abused clit, even her belly so worn and used that no feeling lingers.

"..."

Craning her head towards the closet, cracked open, a single tank standing tall. Proud. Trying to heave herself up, her arms almost give way again, weak from the pumping.

"... I need more... something... anything."

Hoisting herself up, unsteady on trembling legs. Spread wide by the bloat of her torso. She waddles towards her closet, absentmindedly wiping sweat from her brow. Her last air tank.

"I shouldn't..."

Mumbling self criticism, she starts to drag the heavy canister towards the bed before heavily flopping back down. The null feeling giving way to a moment of stimulation again. Toying with the valve, lost in thought. The tightness in her chest, that growing fluttering in her stomach. The desire, the need, growing again.

"But it's my last one... I can't afford a refill... and... I don't know when I'll be able to again."

Hesitating, she pops her hose off of the hand pump's valve and gingerly holds it next to the tank's. Swallowing hard she feels a growing lump in her throat, flush spread across her cheeks.

"If I use this... I won't be able to inflate without the damn manual pump for a long time... a really long fucking time."

Licking her lips, she plugs the hose into the valve.

"Fuck it... fuck everything."

There was only one pleasure that even stood out anymore. Without work, without a boyfriend or girlfriend, without anyone what pleasure was even left? Weeks and months of deprivation wearing as thin as her stretched tormented skin. Inflating. Inflating's what made her happy.

"And... damn it, I'm going to enjoy this."

With the last shred of doubt crumbling beneath the addicted compulsion, she twisted open the valve. As wide as she could with her trembling sore arms. Instantly, rewarded with new waves of pleasure from her belly. She fell back once again, arching her back and letting the air fill her torso faster than her hand pump could have ever achieved.

"Fuck.... yes... bigger. Bigger!"

Splaying her legs, she began to squeeze and massage her belly again, burgeoning above and beyond her with each passing moment. Stretching, swelling, filling.

"My last... tank..."

Mind, tingling. With loneliness, pleasure, addiction, fear, and frustration intermingling and blending together. The only thing that mattered in this moment was getting bigger. And in some ways, it was the only thing that mattered at all.

"Fuck it, I'm taking it. I'm taking it all! If I fucking explode, who fucking cares?"

And so she spread her limbs, air forcing its way into them with each passing moment. Filling, stretching, becoming conical. Breasts briefly blowing up before melding with her torso again. Her cycle of pleasure only interrupted when she could no longer rub her own belly. But that pleasure soon replaced by the greater pleasure, of skin stretching to her limits.

"Ohhhh... I've missed this.... stretching... pushing further."

Her conical limbs began to fatten, rounding and melding with the spherical balloon her torso was becoming. Fingers and toes feeling swollen, tight. Her genitals twitching and trembling with shock waves of pleasure. Even her clit growing erect with minute amounts of air.

Eyes crossing, breathing becoming laboured, just savouring the growth. Even as the growth began to slow, and the creaking of overtaxed skin began to grow louder.

"Fuck... fuck me..."

Tears of pleasure mixed with tears of frustration.

Stretch marks, increasingly dark and angry spreading across the expanse of her body. Growing tighter, spread thinner. Any trace of innards stretched so thin they've long vanished. Sweat beading and dripping down the spherical parody of a woman slowly filling the room.

"Come on... come on.... burst me..."

Dirty talk, the flirtatious masochistic demands to former lovers and fuckboys. The addicting thrill of pushing past limits, getting so dangerous close to the maximum amount of stretch before blowing apart. Now, perhaps the intended outcome.

What would even be left? Not blowing apart here and now? Being a massive ball, just sitting there for hours, days, on end as air slowly seeps out. Such a process... would be maddening.

Surely, it'd be better to take every last breath of air, and achieve that mythical final moment of pleasure. The moment when all of your skin, every inch, is overtaxed and tearing apart. That final flare of pleasure, as every nerve at once bursts with energy.

"Fuck- Fuck! FUCK!!!!"

Clenching eyes shut, biting lip, trying desperately to flap uselessly inflated hands and feet, the internal pressure so high, it's squeezing out every last drop of pleasure before-

Detonation.

More than the body could ever handle, blowing apart in every direction. Skin tearing and becoming scraps akin to fluttering rubber. Each nerve firing off and fading in orgasmic pleasure.

No room for regret, or fear.

Because enough was never enough.