Inflatabull
Jack the inflatabull
Just a teaser chapter
It was the summer before sophomore year, and I finally decided that it was time I got a job. And I figured the best place for me to work was at the local gym. I was thinking that maybe I'd get hired as a personal trainer for guys who want to bulk up and get to my size.
Seeing as this was my first interview ever, I had no idea what the process was like. But I had a trick up my sleeve. I knew the owner. Not only had I been going to that gym regularly since the 6th grade, the owner was also the head-coach at my high school.
I walked through the gym, the sounds of weights clinking, the people grunting as they lifted weights trying to gain mass, weights that I could lift easily. I walked to Coach's office in the back.
I took one final deep breath of the hot musk of the gym, the closest thing to fresh air I'd have for a while, and I turned the knob.
An even hotter more powerful musk filled my nostrils as I entered his office. How could one man produce such a strong musk?
Coach was sitting behind his desk. He was grunting out numbers as he did bicep curls, watching his bicep bulge as he lifted the 280lbs dumbbell. The last number I could make out was 121, and for a Rottweiler his size, it meant he was just getting started.
"Hey, coach."
He looked up at me, still pumping his bicep, "Well if it ain't the inflatabull."
My friend on the football team had recently discovered an interest in inflation, and of course after he inflated me once, he had to do it again and again, and even infront of the rest of the team. It got me the nickname inflatable, but they always spell it inflatabull for obvious reasons.
I scratched the base of my horns, "Yeah, well coach..."
"Son, you don't have to call me, I'm not your coach here. In here, call me Mr. Larson....or God...whichever you prefer."
For a big gruff guy, Coach was pretty nice and cared for his students like they were his sons. Tough love, he did everything he could to make us push ourselves to be better.
"Well, Mr. Larson, I want a job. I was thinking that I could be a trainer or something."
He set down the weight and stared me down till I sat in the chair infront of his desk. "And what are your qualifications?"
"Come on, Coach! You know me. I'm one of the biggest guys on the team!"
He left out a deep laugh, "I'm just yankin' your chain, Kid. You're hired. I've actually got the perfect job for you." He stood up and walked behind me.
"Sweet! I won't let you down, Mr. Larson."
With a grin on his face, "You won't be coming down anytime soon."
"Huh?" before I could even turn around, Coach had his arm around my neck in a sleeper hold. It wasn't long before I blacked out.
When I finally came to, the gym was empty, the blinds on the window were shut, so it must have been after hours. My wrists and ankles were tied to a smith machine leaving me in a spread eagle position, and I was wearing a yellow spandex suit with black writing on it, but I couldn't read it in the full wall mirror or the other side of the room because the writing was backwards. But the really weird part was the hose in my mouth, and the belt keeping my muzzle from spitting it out. I looked to the left and saw coach attaching the other end of the hose to an electrical air pump.
My eyes grew wide as I realized what was about to happen. I struggled and pulled at my ties trying to get free.
"Oh, you're up." Mr. Larson walked over to me, "Quit struggling, I thought you wanted a job. Sorry I had to tie you up, I needed to keep you standing up."
He pressed a button on the pump with his foot, and it whirred to life. The hose grew stiff as the air rushed through it and into my mouth.
"Mrph!"
"I decided that your talents are the perfect thing for this job. See, we're having a sale on memberships and old equipment, and those inflatable advertisements are pretty expensive. But you're ability makes you perfect for the job."
My cheeks swelled with air as it rushed down my throat. My abs loosing definition as my belly swelled with air. In a matter of seconds, my abs turned into a taut roid-gut, but still it inflated bigger and bigger.
I never thought Coach would inflate me, sure he'd have a few laughs along with the rest of the team whenever Travis blew me up, but here he was rubbing my inflating gut and testing how tight it was. "Come on, boy. I've seen you get bigger than this." He said with a chuckle as he turned up the pump.
Fwoomp! My pecs, thighs, and biceps seemed to grow and swell with power, until they started to bloat with the amount of air. I could've tried out for mister universe if it weren't for the fact that the air was filling my up till I had no more muscle definition. My arms and legs went stiff as my chest swelled up till they were like long balloons attached to the big round one that was my quickly inflating torso.
I looked back at the mirror and saw the letters on the spandex suit stretch as I swelled. "Yeah, that's gonna be perfect." He read the words with a smirk, "Huge blow-out sale."
"mmff! Mrph!" I used the last of my limited mobility to try and break free of my restraints.
"I wouldn't tug on those if I were you. Don't want you floating away. Speaking of which," He left the room leaving me to inflate. I thought he wasn't coming back; I started thinking he'd leave me there to pop. I imagined myself filling up the whole room, which was full of things that would pop me if I pressed up against them. I tried harder to break free when Coach returned with some weights from the bench presses, and some rope. He crawled under me and tied them to my ankles. "Now when I put you outside, you won't float off."
Wait, did he say outside? He's gonna put me outside where the whole city can see me like this? It's bad enough that every athletic team I was on knew about it. And that took a bit of effort and blackmail to keep them quiet, but now Coach wants to put me on display infront of the entire city!
I was so busy getting worried that I didn't even notice that my arms and legs had started to sink into my body. I also hadn't noticed that I wasn't touching the ground anymore, probably because I couldn't see the ground over my big inflated body. I was bigger than any sumo wrestler in the world, and coach turned off the pump. "I'll have to inflate you more outside. Any bigger and you won't fit through the door." Coach untied my wrists and ankles from the smith machine, and picked the weights up off the floor. "It's almost time for opening, Kiddo. You better bring me a lot of customers."
He led me to the door by the weights attached to my ankles. Coach kicked open the door, and walked through, but of course I didn't. I was stuck. He laughed, "Guess I shoulda stopped the pump sooner." He tugged on the weights till I was sandwiched in the doorframe. "Hang in there big guy, have you out in a jiffy. Don't go anywhere, haha." He walked around the building to the back entrance. A minute or so later I heard the door open and shut when he shouted to me. "Just relax, buddy. I'm gonna get a running start!" I didn't have time to think when he charged and slammed into my back and pushed me through the door where I bobbed on my tethers.
He plugged the pump, back in a turned it on. The air rushing into me once more. Bigger and bigger I inflated, soon I was a big ball with paws and a head, and eventually I was the size of compact car, but all that pressure made me feel like a blimp.
Coach turned off the pump, "There we go." He patted my big round body that was so big I couldn't turn my head. He pulled the hose from my mouth, and undid the belt holding my muzzle shut, "How you feeling, son?"
"Full, Mr. Larson. I feel like I'm gonna pop!"
"And that's how we know you're fully inflated." He chuckled.
I knew it was a pointless request, but I had to "You gotta deflate me, I can't let the whole city see me like this!"
"No, that's the whole point of advertising, the whole city is supposed to see you. The more people see you the better. And the bigger you are, the more people will see you. So I could always stick this hose back in." He said as a threat.
"No! No more! I'll burst!"
"Good. Now, get me some customers, and if you do a good job, I could always use you as a parade balloon for the community holiday parade. That'd be good for business."
"You can't do that!" I wobbled as best I could, but he held up the hose to my mouth, and I admit defeat. "I'm your guy, Coach. I'll bring in the customer."
"That's the inflatabull I know. Always loyal to Coach." He turned and walked inside.
About a half hour later, a fox in a business suit walked past me with his son. The son pointed at me and said "I want a balloon like that! It's huge! Daddy, can you buy me the balloon?"
"That's an advertisement, Johnny. It's not for sale."
"But I want an animal balloon." The little fox whined. His dad scooped him up in his arms.
"I'll buy you a bunch of balloons later, okay?"
"Okay, Daddy."
The fox led his son into the gym, the little fox staring at me, his tail wagging the whole time his dad was talking to Mr. Larson at the front desk.
I didn't realize that on the back of my spandex suit it said, "We'll pump you up!"