Losing Count...

What are all the women who you saw blow apart in your life?

You don't remember, too young, a small child. It's only a story you were ever told as a funny anecdote. The first time you saw someone pop by accident. How she got stuck, or had a reaction. It simply was a mistake. But you can't remember.

Your first mother, also someone you can't remember. She did her best, provided for you. But she was but the first in a long line, and you don't know how she popped. No one would bother to tell you.

You saw women pop on the television. In cartoons, game shows and movies. You never thought about it. It was normal. You felt weird when you were old enough to realize that they actually popped some people for some of those scenes. The first time you ever saw it is still burned in your memory. An action movie, one where the heroine shoved a hose into the mouth of one of the minions. And she blew up until she exploded. Tasteful, no nudity. Barely any moaning. But still... enticing.

You remember watching New Years with your family, your sisters and mother, aunts and family friends. The countdown, the big parties the adults had. And the cameraman watching the ball, a woman bloated bigger than you've ever seen anyone before. Getting bigger, tighter, more round than anything. Until exploding exactly at midnight, into a shower of confetti and lights.

You never saw it, but your teacher exploded. Another woman came in, another teacher, and she offhandedly remarked that your old teacher exploded.

You realize that you hear that a lot. The janitor, the store owner, your mom's co-workers. You always hear, that they exploded.

You're a teenager now. And you found your first popping porn. At first, that you're watching people have sex is the most exciting part. And then the inflation starts. The actress gets bigger, rounder. But it's different from any inflation you've seen so far. She's moaning, and panting, she's orgasming. And her skin is tight and shiny. The camera lingers, and the explosion plays from several angles. It's intoxicating, unlike anything you've ever seen. You replay the moment of detonation over and over.

You've lost track of how many mothers' you've lost by now. Six, seven, eight? They take care of you, cook you dinner, talk to you when you need it, help with your studies. But then, they're gone. Usually the only time you know, is when a social worker shows up with another lady, and lets you know that your last mother exploded.

You're an adult now, eighteen. And your peers have started to inflate. They're women now. They're also studying things more complicated and specific than anything you are. Some of them have jobs. It feels like they're leaving you behind. Until you hear about the first time someone you knew growing up explodes. It's surreal. It's real. It's even more real than when your mothers exploded, because you grew up with her. And now she's gone.

You start dating this cute girl. Maybe she's your childhood friend. And you fantasize about her blowing up with babies, or starting a business with you. She inflates for you sometimes. You share that. And one day, you call her, and her mother answers. It turns out she exploded while trying to stretch her capacity. For you. She exploded because of you. And you're devastated... but some part of you, is excited too.

You go to strip clubs now, and at least one stripper explodes a night, every time you go. Sometimes multiple. Busty and curvy performers, who readily and excitedly burst themselves for the audience.

You read about crime in the city, about women exploding in gas attacks.

You pop your girlfriend intentionally for the first time. You tell yourself it was an accident. But you wanted it to happen. And she did too.

You become a beacon of stability at work. Your coworkers explode every month, but there's always someone to replace them. Work never stops, and everyone relies on you. It's exhausting, but someone has to be the pillar when everyone else are but scraps in the garbage bin.

You get married. Your goal to have children with your wife. Your wife's mother at the time, inflates and explodes in celebration of your union.

Your wife explodes. At work. You wish you'd seen it. Wish it'd been special.

More wives, more mothers exploding at weddings, sometimes friends and balloons of honour. Some of them pop trying to keep their capacity up. Some of them pop during sex with you.

You hear about conflicts in the world, mass explosions caused by weapons of mass inflation.

Finally, your wife gets pregnant. She balloons into a massive heavy sphere over the course of several years. She's so much younger than you. But that's just how this world works. Finally, she explodes, and gives birth to dozens and dozens of children.

Life goes on. You burst some casual flings, some more wives.

There's a weird, surreal moment, when you're older. And the first time you hear one of your daughters blew up. But such is life.

Your perspective shifts as you get more context. But there's nothing to change. This is simply how it is.

You don't go out of your way to burst women as often. But when you do, it's simply because. It's fun. And that's how things go.