Duncan sloshed, jiggled, and shook in place as he tried his utmost to move. He wasn’t going to budge though, as he groaned aloud from his current predicament. It was of his own doing; a fetish of his let run rampant for far too long and now he was paying for it. He tried to lift his arms, but only got his paws to jiggle slightly before he had to give up with a deep huff of exertion. His legs were even worse, as not even a wiggle of a toe could be accomplished by the massively inflated koala. He was getting tired of trying to move for that matter, as he felt his limbs and his core begin to sweat with the sheer effort of trying to move. So much weight filled his very being, and yet there was still more coming. It was as if the torrent was just never going to end into him; filling him until he burst. He could already feel some of that tightness around his middle, as that had been what had prompted him to move in the first place. Of course it hadn’t worked though, so he was forced instead to just sit, pant, groan, slosh, and take every single ounce of the liquid filling him to the brim into his rear; he chose it after all.
Duncan wasn’t always inflated, nor was he usually inflated out in public. He was nearly constantly just a normal-sized koala, albeit a bit of a pudgy one with a ball for a belly. The excess flesh came somewhat from the sluggish lifestyle all of his species lived, and with the advent of fast food it was a common sight for fat or larger koalas. Some tried to stay thin, but most accepted their fate with gusto and took up eating and sleeping as their main source of entertainment, and in some cases, income. Duncan had opted for a slimmer, more mobile take on life though, and as a result was nearly always tired. He needed all the sleep that he could get, and all the food on top of that, it was a recipe for him being heavy. So he needed to get to the gym, which had him even more tired. It was cyclical, it was exhausting, and yet there was something about it that felt the tiniest bit rewarding for the koala. He knew he was breaking the mold, and something about that made him flush with pride anytime someone mentioned how svelte he was for a koala in modern times.
Of course, he did envy his more rotund brethren. Watching them stuff their faces and sleep all day, nearly every day, was something that he wished he could do. He wasn’t a known quantity though, and most had been doing that since birth. He wouldn’t know where to begin, nor would he even know how to go about making a living being the living beds, or sex toys, so many grey marsupials had become. Instead, he just watched and fantasized about being their size or larger, so much so that he would often stuff pillows down his shirt when he was home alone just to have the sensation of being bigger. It was never enough though, so he took to binging until it hurt. That got expensive quick however, and with his meager salary barely covering rent and his other bills, it was a practice that was extremely short lived. His dream was still to be one of the grey balls of blubber that he was on the internet or on television though, so he began to look into other means of getting there.
This is where his current situation, and many others before it, came from. Inflation was a practice, or more likely a fetish, that he had stumbled upon one night during his travels along the internet. He was initially intrigued by it, wondering just what it would take to make something that seemed so absurd come to life. Of course, this also made him a little aroused; the allure of growing much larger without the need to put in any effort was enticing. Duncan didn’t think that it was something that he could do though, and instead just began to enjoy the fantasy of it all. The deeper he dug though, the more that he found that indeed it was real. Creams, special pumps, helpers… All of it was right there, at the claw-tips of the koala, all waiting to be explored. He didn’t know where to begin once he found that out, but it took what had been a fascination and turned it into something far, far more.
The koala started small at first, nothing like the beached ball of immensity which was currently sloshing in the warehouse he was slowly filling. Bike pumps, a garden hose turned barely on, and even a whole container of soda; it was far more arousing than he thought it would be. Seeing pictures and reading stories online was one thing, and the feeling of coming to life on his very frame was a whole different one. The sensation of growing drew him in immediately, and it wasn’t long before he had been sucked down into it so much that he was looking for the more outlandish ways to stretch himself. The pain of feeling his organs shift, the pleasure of his skin stretching to nearly its limit, and the sight of his fur beginning to part just because there wasn’t enough of it to cover the ball his stomach was becoming all drove him further and further down into what he could only assume would be his end game. He was going to have his size, his need to be as large as his fellow koalas, and it was going to be done on a case by case basis. He could still work, most of the time. He could still get around with ease, and he could do it all without assistance; for the most part at least, as his larger sessions usually needed a helper or two to get off the ground. Something that was literal as well, for he had experimented with helium once or twice, and it was an intriguing experience to say the least.
More and more his boundaries were pushed through the months after his discovery of inflation. His stomach began to droop and sag not because of weight, but because of the sheer amount of skin it needed in order to not burst. His jaws ached nearly constantly from being clamped so hard on hoses and pumps; his rear hardly felt much better. His belly button had been modified, by a surgeon who would never be known to Duncan, to be a valve so that even more air or water could be forced into him. The koala was on a strict diet to help improve the effectiveness of the skin-stretching pills he took daily. It was a true addiction he had now, and part of him had to wonder how he was much different from the others once he got to that point. Sure, he wasn’t a useless, incompetent blob of fat, but he was little more than that because of his nigh constant need to inflate. It was a habit now; come home, stick a bike pump in, and just watch TV as it filled him to a comforting tightness. Blowing himself up was a common as breathing, and with nearly all of his income going towards it now, it wouldn’t be long before he needed to start selling himself to make ends meet. Duncan loathed the thought, but as he looked fondly over the compressor in his back room, and dreamed of the larger one which would soon follow it, he knew what he had to do.
What he had to do was exactly why he was in the warehouse, expanding still even as he begin to feel a sensation he hadn’t felt since his first days of experimenting with inflating; his skin tearing. He wanted to cry out in pain, but he couldn’t thanks to the high-pressure hose filling his muzzle. Tears welled in his eyes and began to seep into the stretched, bloated cheeks beneath his eyes. The grey fur on them was almost thinning he was so strained and full; he didn’t want to imagine how his stomach looked, for he could feel the cold air of the building blowing on it far more than he should have been able to. Agony filled his very being, and what little he could see over the horizon of his own frame made him wonder just why he hadn’t burst yet. Surely the pills were doing their job, but even they had their limits, and Duncan had to assume that those were long ago. He was worried about bursting, and yet at the same time, even as pain filled every single thought of his, he could feel something else stiff on his body. It was being rubbed, stroked, and caressed slowly by the anthro in charge of his inflation; some tiger whose name escaped Duncan. The feline had paid in cash, shown up in a suit, escorted the koala here, hooked him up… Duncan had barely needed to do a thing aside from drink and swell, and he was doing that as best as he could. He wanted to stop though, oh did he want to stop so incredibly badly; he knew he wouldn’t last much longer.
Eyes screwing shut as the pain began to take over even the pleasure he was feeling between his splayed, bloated legs, the koala waited for the end. He didn’t think he would burst one day, as he had always been careful with his addiction. He pushed the limits of course, but what he was experiencing went far beyond that. He wanted out, he was done, and yet still the feline just stroked and moaned. Duncan groaned and moaned, making all the noise he could as he tried his best to move again. Not a muscle complied though, and even the slight jostle he made sent shooting pain through his skin; he was just that full of liquid. Every fiber of his being begged for the water to stop. His cheeks began to swell on their own even larger than they had been, signaling that his innards were as full as they were going to get. Impeding on what little vision he had left, Duncan’s eyes shut again as he waited for the end. Done in by his fetish, it felt like a real way to go…
And then the water stopped.
The flow ceased right as Duncan was absolutely sure he couldn’t take another drop. He gurgled and groaned aloud, his whole body screaming in agony as he lay stock still and just felt the tiger rubbing against him. The koala was dumbstruck, and as such not entirely sure what was going on. He was certain he was going to burst if he was even poked, and yet no such sensation came. Nothing broke, no more new stretch marks formed on his frame, and he was unable to even wiggle a toe as he just lay in himself as bloated as he had ever been by a long stretch. Somewhere in there his length had grown to full attention again, and whether it was the sheer size of his frame, the masochistic side of him that was beginning to rear its head, or simply the touch of the tiger, the koala came all over the underside of his stomach. Hot ropes of seed shot onto his taut surface, making another, deep moan come from his muzzle as he just lay in what was now a sticky mess of a blob that had once been a koala. Duncan was spent, impossibly full, and just beached in himself. There was nothing that he could do; all of his independence was gone.
“Same time next week, and I’ll pay double.”
Duncan just gurgled, but knew one thing.
He could get used to this.