Just a little inflation story I wrote as a bit of a writing challenge for myself! Needed to creatively re-implement an inflation scenario that Holodrom/Angelus had done an awesome job on already (read his stories here https://www.weasyl.com/~holodrom). Stars  bodbloat , with cameos from  Ishky  Bashade and  iconmaster .

Bod puts the finishing touches on his latest invention, and decides to field test it himself with predictably explosive results.

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Bod's Pump Pads:
By: IndigoRho

Just a little...bit...more. Bod was sitting at one of the many workbenches in his private lab, hovering over a metallic sphere the size of an orange. He poked around in an open panel of the device as gently as he could manage, cursing under his breath as a few tiny sparks shot out, but pressing onward. After some final tweaks Bod pulled his tool away and closed the panel, grinning in triumph as he leaned back in his chair. For weeks the red and yellow dragon had been working tirelessly on his latest invention—interrupted only by the occasional accidental popping—and now the fruit of that labor stood before him. Pump Pads: a pair of matching slippers and an ultra-condensed air compressor. When properly equipped, the trio would allow their wearer to inflate or deflate themselves with a tap of the paw.

Bod had conceived of the device months ago, but just as he was putting the finishing touches on his first prototype a rival company had released their own version. Their ingenious marketing campaign had been a runaway success, practically going viral on social media with pre-orders selling out instantly. He knew his original creation would be brushed aside as a knock-off or hasty attempt to cash-in on the new fad of inflation-footwear, and thus the dragon had woefully returned to the drawing board, intent on designing something that would completely revolutionize the two-month old industry. His would be sleeker, shinier, more hi-tech! Sure it would also be significantly more expensive, but Bod was confident a market existed for his product. At the very least he knew his employees would all buy a set once he gave a good sales pitch and some comments that could be misinterpreted as threats.

Of course, before he could start selling his new invention, a few field tests were necessary. So far everyone else at Pumpz had refused to test them—quite vehemently in fact—stating such outrageous reasons as “Not after what happened last time” and “Only if you turn off that pump!”. Bod shook his head in dismay. Why weren't others as dedicated to the pursuit of scientific progress as he? Lacking in volunteers, Bod had made the easy decision to try out the invention himself. He carefully pulled a slipper onto each claw—grinning as the elastic material of the footwear snapped against his scales—and flipped the switches on each, one to deflate and the other to inflate. A few quick taps of his right claw caused the small air compressor to hiss in tune. He repeated the process with his left, prompting a sucking noise from the compressor. Perfect.

Having confirmed the pressure pads of the slippers were successfully sending the proper signals, Bod then had to deal with the compressor itself. He picked up the small device and carefully slid it into his mouth before swallowing it whole, feeling the cold metallic ball slide down his throat and plop into his warm stomach. Designing the compressor to be magma-proof had increased its cost, but the durability was necessary anyways to keep its questionably-stable wormhole properly contained. Bod tapped his claw again, and this time the faint hisses were accompanied by a delightful bit of swelling in his middle. The dragon started tapping steadily.

Hiss. Hiss. Hiss. Bod's usually slim form began to round out as the compressor went to work, pumping air directly into his stomach. The process was so easy, requiring almost no effort on his part while still being incredibly efficient. As his belly grew to the size of a beachball the yellow plates covering it began to slowly separate from each other with a satisfying Pop!, exposing strips of increasingly taut, sensitive red hide that he couldn't help but tease with his claws. The tapping sped up. He needed to be bigger, needed to feel the pressure build up more, at least until he heard a creak or two. His belly plates grew further and further apart as his hide stretched thin, and then the desired moment came. Creak.

Bod smiled, then tapped again. Creeak. Hiss. Creeeak. He wanted nothing more than to start rapidly thumping his claw and bask in the creaking chorus that would follow, but managed to display a surprising amount of self-restraint. Instead, Bod reluctantly began tapping his other claw, and felt his belly slowly deflate back down to beachball size, some of the plates clicking back into place. There would be plenty of time to play around with the Pump Pads once he'd finished the most important test: a brisk walk. If the Pads worked as intended, a steady pace would ensure the user's size would remain consistent as they went about their business, and they'd have the luxury of being able to increase or decrease the inflation whenever they wanted.

Eager to begin, Bod settled on a simple walk down to the cafeteria and back. He headed towards the door on his test stroll, grinning as he heard the subtle inflation and deflation of his middle with each step. Hiss. Swoomp. Hiss. Swoomp. Bod gently drummed his taut belly with his claws as he walked down the hallway, whistling to himself as he delighted in the apparent success of his Pump Pads and imagining all the fun he'd have with them. He could inflate whenever and wherever he wanted with these beauties, even stay partially inflated all day if he felt the desire. A vision drifted into his mind, of himself walking down a sidewalk, belly swollen just enough to be big but not stand out. Maybe he'd sneak an extra inflate tap in while waiting at a crosswalk just to see if anyone would notice. Every once in a while he'd pass someone else with a bloated middle and see the Pump Pads on their paws.

Bod had reached the elevators as he daydreamed, almost unconsciously hitting the button and tapping his claw as he waited. Hiss. Hiss. The marketing campaign would need to be good, something that would really blast Pump Pads into the public consciousness. Having his employees wear them around town wasn't an option—his competition had already gone with that route, and he'd risk being considered a mere imitator as opposed to an innovator. Hiss. Hiss. Pop. Perhaps he could hold a big event at Pumpz with competitions utilizing the Pads: dancing, three-legged races, inflated sumo wrestling. Hiss. Pop. The doors to the left elevator opened, but when Bod tried to walk forward he stumbled and nearly fell over, caught off-guard by his larger belly. His confusion quickly passed as he realized he'd merely inflated himself more on accident, and he chuckled as he wobbled slightly while entering the elevator.

Bod reluctantly deflated himself a bit once more, though only enough to make walking manageable. The return of the steady Hisses and Swoomps was music to his ears. Continuing onwards to the cafeteria, Bod stopped for a moment to glance through the open door of a lab, spotting Ishky handling a pair of slime-filed beakers.

“Keep up the good work, Ishky!” Bod shouted.

The green dragon had just begun to pour the contents of one beaker into the other when he looked up in surprise at the interruption. His careful mixing was ruined, a small cloud of red smoke gushing upwards and into Ishky's nostrils, causing him to unleash a loud sneeze. An alarm suddenly started going off within the room, and a recording of Bod's voice came over a nearby speaker.

“Slime containment procedure initiated. Remember, Bod can in no way be held accountable for spontaneous weight-gain, consumption, or explosions of personnel on Pumpz Lab property.”

As the automated message finished, a vent slid open and a geyser of orange slime spewed forth, slithering along the floor towards Ishky. The dragon dropped the beakers in his claws and sprinted towards the exit, but the lab's heavy blast door sealed shut long before he could reach it. He banged on the door's acrylic glass window, pleading for Bod's help right up until the orange slime coiled around his body and dragged him away, a tendril forced into his mouth and his belly already swelling.

“Uh...oops.” Bod winced and slowly walked away from the door, continuing his stroll. The cafeteria wasn't that much further, just a quick right at the end of the hall and he'd be within sight of the doors. Hiss. Swoomp. Hiss. Swoomp. He considered grabbing a quick snack or two while he was there, after all, the mini-fridge in his lab was fairly sparse. Hiss. Swoomp. The brownies were always good, as was the ice-cream. Hiss. Fizzle. Hiss. Pop. Ooh, maybe the fresh magma fountain he'd ordered was complete? Hiss. Hiss.

Mouth salivating at the thought of getting a refreshing gulp of lava, Bod took a moment to realize there was a rather significant obstacle blocking his path once he turned the corner. Just a short ways down the corridor—exactly where the cafeteria door should have been—was a wall of black and red scales, a well-rounded dragon head sticking out of its center. The dragon initially looked slightly worried, though he quickly switched to an innocent grin once he noticed Bod approaching.

The bloated dragon—Bashade—laughed a little before greeting him. “Um, hey Bod. Nice day we're having isn't—Urrrrrrrrp!”

“Really Bashade?” Bod said, sighing. “I was hoping for some ice-cream, couldn't you have done whatever it is you're doing somewhere else?”

There was a faint sloshing sound coming from beyond the mass of dragon, who seemed to have engulfed a bit more of the hallway since their conversation began. Bashade stifled another belch. “Well, not really. And we might be out of ice-cream now.” His body creaked loudly. “At least I hope we are...”

Bod threw up his arms in frustration and turned around, deciding to cut his trip short. “Sometimes I feel I'm the only one who takes this job seriously!” he grumbled, ignoring the quiet hisses within his inflated belly.

“W-wait, Bod come back! I kind of can't reach an important switch anymore, can ya help me out!” Bashade pleaded, only to watch the other dragon disappear around the corner. He wasn't sure how much help his boss would have been, though, seeing as he was seemingly inflating uncontrollably himself.

Bod took a few deep breaths to calm himself down as he walked back towards the elevators. Sure, he didn't get any of that wonderful ice-cream, but at least his Pump Pads were working perfectly. Hiss. Pop. Hiss. A gentle whirring caught his attention, and Bod spotted a roomba slowly barreling in his direction, a potted cactus sitting atop it. Henry. Bod had a complicated relationship with the cactus, for while Henry dutifully limited the amount of property damage caused by the excessive number of overinflating employees at Pumpz Labs, he was also prone to finding Bod any time he was enjoying a relaxing, controlled inflation, too.

As Henry gradually neared Bod shook his head. “Not this time Henry!” The dragon simply side-stepped out of the way, the smug look on his face broken the moment his bloated belly bounced against the wall of the hallway unexpectedly. Bod looked down at his middle—confused as to how it'd become so much larger—and just barely managed to lift it up and out of the path of Henry, a single needle teasing the taut hide of his underbelly. Assuming he'd merely been favoring one claw over the other, Bod tapped his left a few times, expecting to feel the pressure within him lessen a little. Instead, he heard only hisses as his belly expanded further, another plate sliding away with a Pop. The deflate pad must have been switched to inflate somehow!

With a groan Bod attempted to lean down and reach his claw, but his massive middle made the effort impossible, and he swayed so much in the process he actually managed to inflate more. Bod's heart began to race. If he couldn't reach the pads himself he'd need to find someone else to remove them for him, and fast. Wait, Ishky was just a little ways down the corridor, surely he'd help! He awkwardly waddled onwards, trying to take the longest strides he could in order to keep the inflation to a minimum. The door to Ishky's lab was open, and Bod was certain he'd be saved from a potentially explosive fate—at least until he reached the lab itself. Broken beakers and scraps of green hide were scattered across the room, and a discarded kilt lay in the middle of the floor. An orange slime was retreating through an open vent, vanishing back into the containment system.

Bod cursed and stomped until he remembered his steps were the source of his rapidly expanding predicament. There had to be another option! Bashade! As long as he was careful he could make it back to the red and black dragon without bursting! Before he could even turn around, though, he heard shouting in the distance.

“Wait, Henry, let's talk things through!” Bashade yelled, before a loud Booom! shook the floor, followed by...roaring water?

Bod's eyes grew wide as he saw a small wave of melted vanilla ice-cream race around
the corner at the far end of the hallway, heading straight for him. Against all odds, Henry was somehow surfing the delicious wave on his roomba. Overcome by sheer terror, Bod began wobbling towards the nearby elevators as fast as he could, expanding with each step. He tapped the elevator call buttons obsessively, actually cracking the plastic surface of one in his frenzy. The elevator he'd originally taken was still there, thankfully, and Bod lunged into it, squeezing his swollen belly through the doors as they were opening and slapping the button of a random floor. His ungraceful entrance proved a bit too reckless, though, and dragon stumbled and spun around, the rapid succession of steps causing a burst of inflation in his body that slightly engulfed his limbs and separated the last of his chest plates.

The elevator doors closed right before the ice-cream wave arrived, and Bod nearly jumped when he heard the clang of Henry's roomba hitting the other side. Though no longer threatened by the cactus, Bod's situation was still dire. He had inflated essentially to the point of immobility during his mad race to relative safety, his taut, sensitive hide already brushing into the walls of the cramped elevator. To make matters worse, an unfortunate twist led to a chest plate pushing into the buttons for every floor of the building, an accident Bod had yet to realize. The elevator shuddered as it descended to the next floor, and Bod expanded further, creaking and groaning as more of his flesh pressed against the walls and his limbs sunk into his body. When the doors opened again he tried shouting for help, only to find his voice muffled by his own bloated middle.

Bod winced as the metal doors forced his extended belly back into elevator as they closed. Again the elevator shuddered, and Bod yelped as his horribly swollen body expanded to fill every inch of the small space. His head pressed into the ceiling while the safety bars dug into his sides, too smooth to pop him. He could feel the cold metal of the doors and control panel, the imperfections of the plastic buttons, the grooves in the wood paneling. The flood of sensations was almost overwhelming, especially when added to the loud creaks and groans brought about by any slight movement, or the distant, sporadic hisses of the compressor nestled deep within him. Bod's hide was stretched impossibly tight; he knew only a few more pumps were all it would take to tear his body apart.

Facing an imminent explosion, Bod's biggest regret was how long popping would delay the tweaks to his precious Pump Pads. He always felt horribly exhausted after pulling himself back together, and might even have to write off the whole rest of the week. Bod didn't trust anyone but himself to finish the project. After all, the others would obviously mess something up, unlike him.

In the main lobby of Pumpz Labs, a gray and black scaled dragon put on his best fake smile as he led a small group of visitors towards the elevators. Bod had demanded occasional tours of the facility to supplement income and advertisement, and Dave had been the Pumpz employee unfortunate enough to draw the short straw that day, forced to play tour guide. A wealth of practical—and impractical—inflation knowledge filled his mind, and he was wasting his time babysitting tourists. There was a good chance he was being paid less for it, too.

Swallowing his pride, Dave tried his best, though. “We're very delighted today to have all of you at Pumpz Labs, the leader in inflation solutions! There are just so many wonderful things for us to show you!”

A rabbit in the group raised his paw. “I've heard that the Labs are plagued by popping incidents, that it's not uncommon for every employee to end up popped by the end of the day. Is that true?”

Dave gulped. “O-of course not! Those are vicious false rumors spread by our many jealous competitors. I can assure you we have an impeccable safety record here at Pumpz!”

“Then why is the parking lot empty?” the rabbit pressed.

“Um, well, you see here at Pumpz, we promote policies that help the environment, yeah!” Dave said. “We all simply agreed to commute to work in environmentally friendly ways this week.”

A wolf spoke up afterward. “What about all the strange rumors about Pumpz's owner? Is he really as inflation-obsessed and reckless as they say?”

Dave was sweating. “Obsessed is a rather harsh term, don't you think? Bod simply, um, cares deeply about his work! And he's never one to let inflation get out of control, I swear!”

A gentle ding behind him gave Dave relief, and he turned to await the opening of the elevator doors. His jaw slowly dropped as the doors parted, a wall of red and yellow swelling outwards from within the elevator. The creaks were unmistakable, as was the muffled whine of Bod. Dave took a nervous step back as one of the yellow plates spasmed and hissed, followed by another, and another. Bod could feel the pressure inside him becoming too great, his eyes growing wide as the first tiny tears formed in his hide. Seconds later a deafening Boom! reached his ears and he felt the entire elevator shaking around his bursting body, the dragon letting out a final curse of frustration.

Belly plates and hide scraps blew out of the elevator, along with a powerful gust of released air. Everyone in the tour group was knocked to the floor, and Dave was beamed in the chest with one of the larger Bod plates. Nursing his bruised middle, Dave carefully got back up, surveying the damage. Bod confetti was everywhere, littering the ground and hanging from the many chairs and plants of the lobby, one small piece having managed to actually land perfectly in a garbage can. The tourists seemed alright for the most part, just a little stunned by the unexpected explosion.

The rabbit spoke again. “D-did someone just pop in that elevator?”

Dave thought fast. “Nope, definitely not. That was just...um...that was, that was just an elaborate balloon prototype we've been testing here at wonderful, perfectly safe Pumpz Labs!”

The wolf had picked up a small patch of red hide and was feeling it in his paws. “This doesn't feel like rubber, this feels like scales, real scales...”

“Aren't they amazing, so life-like!” Dave replied. “Trust me, they'll be all the rage once we fix some durability issues!”

The group seemed willing to accept his terrible lie for the time being, and Dave was just about to let out a sigh of relief when he spotted the largest scrap of Bod move a little. He hurried over to the unruly swathe of hide and kicked it back into the elevator before the doors finally closed. Dave wasn't in the mood to explain why a chunk of the “balloon” was about to liquify and begin the slow process of re-forming into a dragon.

Dave turned back to the tour group. “Alright, now that our completely scripted, totally not accidental bursting demonstration is complete, we're going to continue the tour!” He said, false smile returned. “Now if you'll just follow me, there's a wonderful scenic route into the facility through a back entrance of a warehouse. And I assure you, anything that looks like a blast mark is actually just spilled paint. We've been remodeling recently.”

Shortly after Dave ushered the confused tourists out of the lobby, the gentle ding noise occurred once more, and the doors to the second elevator opened. Henry rolled out, his roomba dented, scratched and leaving a faint trail of ice-cream in its wake. The mobile cactus dutifully hobbled over a small patch of red hide and vacuumed it up, then another. Having confirmed the presence of a popping, the roomba began a thorough patrol of the lobby, passing over every inch of the room's floor and collecting anything in its path. All in a hard day's work for the vigilant cactus.