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When the compressor arrived at their door, the fotter and the otter knew their lives were going to be different. Both had just been using bike pumps, hoses, and various other means before that moment. The universe had other plans for them though, as did a mysterious benefactor who had sent them the prize they both had pined after, but never been able to afford. It was something of a treasure, and surely felt like Christmas to both of the furs as they unboxed the machine with almost cub-like glee. Their tails were hardly still for a moment, and both their webbed paws moved all over the metallic surface of the contraption once they freed it from its cardboard prison. Alkali, the otter, was practically vibrating with excitement as he began to look for the hose while his partner-in-puffing Harper, the fotter, was already planning on how to use the device on himself. Both of them were eager to use it at all though, with its two hoses and self-regulating valves and massive tank and full horsepower motor… It was a sight so beautiful that Alkali was almost bleary-eyed as he read over the instructions and started the engine up for the first time. He and Harper, in that moment of the engine whirring to life and beginning to chug as it forced air into the large tank beside it, that they had been given their one true love.

After the initial excitement from the gift wore off, the pair sat down and laid out rules. It would be Harper’s first, then Alkali’s, and then back and forth. The other would leave the house when it was not their turn so there would be some amount of privacy, and if the compressor was ever broken, the one who broke it would have to replace it immediately, and have their privileges of use revoked for at least a month. Simple enough rules, but they should have been for something much more hotly contested than an air compressor. It was what they both used, and wanted, and all but craved however, so it was what the two of them agreed on. Signatures were put to paper, paper hung on the fridge, and then Alkali left the house to go and stay with a friend so that Harper could have his very first night alone with the shining, new toy which he got first dibs on. The hybrid was used to getting his way though, so he hadn’t expected much in the way of resistance from Alkali. In fact, the very conversation with the otter should have been much easier, but it was made hard by the simple fact of the gallons of compressed air sitting right beside him.

Trying to push any thoughts of sharing out of his mind, the fotter blushed a bit as he took both hoses in his paws. One hose immediately went into his muzzle, barely out of the plastic and already he was eating it. The other, which was longer and more slender, the hybrid thought about for but a moment before deciding what to do. He leaned forward onto the table in front of him, focusing on the image of himself reflecting from a window as he reached a paw behind himself. Looking over his primarily foxish features, that paw roamed over the supple curves of his frame for a moment before tugging down the waistband of his shorts. Twisting and tugging to expose his plush rear, the fotter’s eyes stayed locked with his own in the window, just studying the gentle roundness of his face. Already shirtless and now with his shorts removed, Harper kept eyeing his handsome orange, white, and black coat as he took the hose he had been holding in his other paw and snaked it back behind himself. From there, he simply shut his eyes for a moment and gave the hose a somewhat aggressive shove. That hose had no nozzle, and it was a good thing too; cold steel up his rear would have been a very unpleasant experience, and the fotter had no intention of making this anything other than the most orgasmic experience of his list. That was to say, until he did this again of course, as he planned to take every opportunity that he got to push his very limits of stretching and expansion.

With a slight grunt, followed by a rather punctuated moan, the hose slid its way up into Harper with little resistance. From there, the hybrid laid down on his stomach on the ground, putting the other hose into his muzzle slightly further without a second thought. He then pushed the one and only button which he could reach from his prone position; the on switch. Given that the machine only had three buttons on it, the fotter knew that he was going to have an easy time of things should there be a reason he needed to stop. The automatic shut off was working as planned though, at least it had been when both he and Alkali had tested it the day prior, and so he wasn’t worried. It was utter excitement that he possessed, and he was nearly vibrating with glee as the loud roar of a large engine spooling up reached his ears. Flattening them back and letting a light whimper out as he recoiled from the noise, the hybrid just lay there beside the machine on their private, spacious back lawn and waited for it to get enough pressure built up to start pumping. He didn’t know when it would be, nor what it would fee-

The air hit him like a ton of bricks.

The sudden burst made him nearly choke on just air, and was so strong that Harper needed to hold both hoses in place so that they wouldn’t burst out on their own. They stayed though, the fotter’s reaction time being fast enough so that nothing was lost. It all went right inside him, and in an instant it showed. His stomach went from flat to rounded, and then to bloated in just moments. It was as if he was on a fast-track to roundness; a track he would never complain about. Air flooded into his over-stretched innards, their months upon months of practice taking absolutely absurd amount of air coming into play right then as they were tested within seconds of the high-powered compressor roaring to life. Harper moaned louder around the hose, the sound more like a hiss than one of arousal as the air forced any noises he made to be drowned out by its sheer power. The fotter didn’t mind this though, his orange and white fur standing on end all over his body as he entered new heights of euphoria. The entirety of his being was just getting bigger, from the cheeks on his face to the base of his stomach, as the air tried to find somewhere to go and was forced to just push out at what it could fill. Primarily his stomach, Harper could just hiss and groan as it grew, grew, and grew like an ever-expanding dome in front of him.

Within scant moments, the hybrid’s stomach had pushed forward far enough so that he was resting solely on that, with his limbs hanging off the sides of it as though they were nothing more than afterthoughts. Harper was quite pleased that he had removed his clothing, for even he couldn’t have predicted just how large he was going to get… The speed at which he was inflating boggled his mind. Pushing his limits both outside and utterly nude had been one of his brighter ideas, as he could only guess that he would have been rubbing the ceiling of their living room shortly, and probably brushing against all sorts of furniture. Instead, there was just grass and trees to give him a true amount of privacy, and the roaring of the compressor. Harper could feel the cold metal of the machine digging into the side of his stomach, but he didn’t pay it much mind and instead just reveled in how taut his stomach had to be in order to feel every single one of those corners and bends in the structure. It was something that he had rarely gotten to experience, and which he was reveling in.

Had the fotter not been experienced in his inflation, he would have passed his limit right about the time his limbs left the ground. A pill and a slight spell made sure that no bursting would happen though, but that wasn’t to say that the enhancements to his body were without their own limits. Harper wanted to test those, so on and on he let himself inflate. His limbs were becoming stockier and less useful as the compressor continued to fire more and more air both into his bowels and his constantly-bloated face. The fotter was far past being able to see over his cheeks, but he could feel every single piece of himself being pushed further and further out with every single ounce of air that entered him. His rear was preposterously bloated, a pair of twin mounds that the fotter could only imagine in terms of scale, but he was sure that they were immense; his tail had vanished between them as he simply got a light twitching feeling any time he tried to wag. His arms and legs were comically undersized for his frame, resting akimbo atop the spread of his stomach and doing nothing more than being useless in their position. He was unable to bend them, as the ever-stretching pelt of his torso was rolling over his hips and shoulders with unstoppable progress, and that made any movement nigh impossible. Instead, Harper just moved his hands and feet in small, deliberate circles as he waited for the inevitability of them inflating as well. Some sort of massaging against his taut frame was better than the feeling of the grass, which was starting to make him itch rather intensely. That was the one marring on his enjoyment of the entire experience though, as he could feel his foxish arousal prodding into his tight, colossal rotundity rather aggressively. It was prodding and leaking somewhat down onto the curve of swollen orange and white which Harper lay sprawled out on, and the hybrid could only shut his eyes and just groan in the feeling of himself stretching more and more beneath it.

The feeling of himself stretching against his own length was quite the tease, but as he began to push the limits of what was even feasible in the wildest dreams which he had ever had about inflating himself, he could feel the balls of his rear pushing against the underside of his pride. It was a new feeling for him, one which he welcomed with open arms, and did his best to try and accentuate by bucking what little he could. All that the beached, bloated, and overly swollen hybrid did manage was a sluggish wobble in place, his entire frame bouncing subtly in place as it just lay still and hardly moved. No amount of muscle could move him, but the hybrid was so incredibly full of air, that he did wobble just because he had become so much lighter overall. The breeze running through his thinning fur, over his overtly sensitive skin, just served to heighten the pleasure of the entire ecstasy-fueled experience for the fotter that much more. It was as if all of his senses were being cranked up to levels which he had never even considered to be possible, and were just going to go even higher. He was leaking pre out onto himself, and as he felt even his limbs begin to get some of the magic he used to make sure he wouldn’t burst and would instead become nothing more than a useless, horny balloon… Harper knew he didn’t have long before his pent up release coated his underbelly with sticky, warm seed. The fotter just hoped that he didn’t have to wait too much longer, as he was so painfully hard that he could barely even think straight.

Fortunately, it took just a light bump from a tree, which the fotter knew were yards away from where he had started, to set him off. Just to imagine himself getting that truly, colossally, overinflated was enough to set him off and make him coat the underside of his round front with seed. It dribbled down the grandiose curve of his stomach, running through the shrinking coat of fur which covered him; he hardly looked to be balding, but it was enough that he looked to just have a thin coat rather than the rich, luscious one which he was all but known for. The fox could just blush and heave in deep, heavy breaths as he panted what little he could from the release, his arousal still painfully hard and seeking a release it had just had; the greedy thing. Harper was in the same mindset though, as he continued to suck up the air and swell, and swell, and just continually swell. It was a process which the fotter wanted to last for as long as he could, and as the very trees of his lawn began to more than bump him, he knew it would be at least some more time before he needed to ask for help to stop.

Alkali and Harper had formed a plan, that once the other thought to stop, it would just take a simple switch from a remote to stop the compressor. No bursting, no pain… Both wanted the other to enjoy it, even if they wanted to enjoy it themselves that much more. There was still more than a small amount of respect for their hobby and companionship though, so neither would try to endanger the other; it was just a matter of what Alkali perceived to be limits for Harper. The otter was always aggressive, and the far more forceful of the two when it came to pushing to get just a little bit more air into himself, or into Harper. More than once, the fotter had left his inflation in the hands of Alkali, only to be inflated so much that he was rendered utterly useless for days. He was far bigger than he had ever been at this point too, and with the magic that he had made to make sure that he could truly push his body to its absolute, finite limit… The fotter just had to wonder when Alkali would stop him.

Trees were beginning to bend against the strength of the pressure which was in Harper, making his arousal twitch with want at that experience. The fotter had never been a strong one, and now to think that just his sheer size alone was strong enough to do something that his regular limbs had never managed… It was enough for him to renew his mindless lust for more all over again. His paws were all bloated out to useless sizes, the air in them making them look like balloon animals attached to straining exercise balls. Each and every part of Harper was rounding out nicely, expanding more and more with every passing moment that he stayed hooked up to the hoses which were inside him. His stomach was getting to be nearly the size of his house, his face was so incredibly filled with air that even if the fotter opened his eyes, all he would be able to see was his orange cheeks, and his limbs were beginning to push back the tide of torso which had enveloped them as they too inflated to outrageously overblown sizes. Even his pride, which had been spared by and large from the inflation, began to fill with air, prompting deep moans and groans from the expanding hybrid as he just reveled in the feeling of his package swelling and pressing itself further out, as well as rounder, with the air he greedily continued to take into his expansive rotundity in spite of himself.

A certain tightness began to spread through the hybrid as more air flooded into him, making him begin to moan a bit louder, as well as try to squirm. His magic was beginning to find its limit, as there was only so much that was in the realm of possibility. His entire hide was testing out how far it could go, as every single inch of his internal structure was now a singular pocket of air. The fotter was a balloon in every sense of the word, and it made him blush somewhat as he came to that realization. He was a balloon nearing its structural limit too, as he could feel his entire body beginning to thin and waver. Hissing noises of the compressor were beginning to be joined by the creaks and groans of skin which had been tasked to hold back just far too much; and was nearing the point where it would fail. Harper didn’t think much of it though; he wasn’t going to burst. He knew that, but he was also slightly unnerved that his body was being pushed as far as it was.

On and on his body stretched, creaking and groaning louder with every passing moment. His fur was truly beginning to thin now, with pink, ever-so-slightly translucent skin being revealed below it. Harper would have been far more worried if he could see that part of himself, but at the time he was too busy enjoying himself in the euphoric feeling of being so incredibly overinflated. Every single inch of him felt truly packed with air, the tightness which had started in his stomach now stretching out slowly to his limbs, and then his paws. Not a single movement could be made by the fotter, even his attempts to wiggle his snout or open his eyes met with resistance; he was just that filled with air. Nothing on him was able to budge, splayed out and stretched to its utter limits all around him. His fingers and toes even began to feel that tightness, the fluff and skin on them rolling over his nubby claws as even they were eclipsed by the ever-expanding wave of fotter. The entire sensation was just too much for Harper, and as he felt even his entire packing fill itself with air and bloat out to the same round, tight proportions as every other square inch of himself, the hybrid splattered more of his seed on the circular dome of himself which he rested on.

That second release seemed to be it too, for the moment cum hit his pelt, the flow of air ceased into his frame. The hissing died down, the creaking and groaning and squeaking of his frame as it tried to comprehend just how much air had been funneled and packed into it replacing that as the only sound the hybrid could hear. The hoses were still in him, and Harper tried to suck at the one in his muzzle in a vain attempt to get more air into his bloated, stretched cheeks. Nothing came though; Alkali had finally said when and stopped the hybrid from inflating. The euphoria of being so big hadn’t died down though, and it took all that Harper had in order to just form that thought; he wanted more in spite of the fact that more would more likely than not lead to his own demise. That was how it went with him though; the feeling of expansion was so addicting that the fotter couldn’t help himself. Nothing more would come that time though, and as his mind started to try to come back down from the high of being so overinflated, two things pushed themselves to the forefront:

Alkali was in for one heck of a ride, and Harper needed to find a stronger magic.



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