Wanted to inflate my owl Lane more, so I did! This time he ends up floating into the sky as well :3

Lane buys a batch of Lift Lager from the local market, and is unable to resist sampling some on the way home...

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Market Swell
By: IndigoRho

The main market of Rainwood was bustling, the streets filled with people looking to buy food, clothes, and other assorted products. Lane preferred to avoid such crowds, as the rather rotund owl often found it difficult to shimmy past shoppers and stalls alike. On that day, however, Lane had needed to make a very peculiar purchase: lift lager.

It was an odd, specialty beer that would cause the drinker to swell up like a balloon if enough was consumed, all thanks to being imbued with air magic. A variety of such drinks existed, but what made lift lager stand out in particular was that it also made one lighter. For an owl as hefty as Lane, he could feel two hundred pounds lighter while looking two hundred pounds heavier, a delightful sensation when tipsy.

Of course if too much was drunk one could find themselves floating helplessly upward—a predicament Lane knew very well firsthand. Despite the risks Lane never missed an opportunity to stock up, especially if he could drag along a friend.

Beside Lane was just such a friend, a portly orange-striped zebra named Rho.

“You know there's plenty of good-tasting beer that doesn't turn you into a blimp, Lane,” Rho teased as they left the brewer's stall with a satchel of jugs.

“But where's the fun in that! You get everyone in a tavern chugging mugs of this stuff and there won't be a single frown in the room.”

Rho laughed. “Sure, but there'll be plenty of creaks and a crowded ceiling. Though I suspect you just don't want anyone mobile enough to heckle you if your singing falls flat.”

“Nonsense, I'm the most beloved bard in the city!” Lane insisted. “And bloated hecklers make great drums once their hides are taut enough anyway.”

“Certainly can't sound worse than that mechanical band you built ages ago. And before you try to stretch the truth more than your damn middle, it only got cheers after it managed to inflate you while playing.”

Lane appeared to be considering a retort but gave up, pouting a little. Instead he pulled the stopper off of a jug of lift lager and took a strong gulp. The beer was cool going down, fizz tickling and expanding his stomach within seconds.

It was a slight swell at first, only noticeable if one had been staring at Lane's middle as it happened. Lane himself could feel the initial bloat, though, and smiled.

Rho gave his friend an odd look “Already dipping into the goods? If you're not careful I'll end up having to hold you down so you don't fly away on the next breeze!”

“Pfft, I'm a natural anchor, I'll be fine,” Lane said as he took a second, deeper drink. “And even if I did go airborne...well all birds are at home in the sky.”

“Not a good sign that you're already making excuses for your inevitable lift-off. Just remember that the only way I have of getting you down involves borrowing a bow and arrows, blimpo!”

The warning was promptly ignored—Lane rarely acted with caution when inflation was involved. His belly was already expanding again. The tunic he wore was enchanted so it could stretch along with him, a boon for someone so prone to inflating spontaneously. No torn clothes or embarrassing displays—well he guessed that wasn't necessarily true. Still, it was better than the alternative.

As the beer fizzed and bubbled inside Lane his gut took on a much rounder shape, no longer jiggling as he waddled. It swayed instead. Passersby were now getting gently bounced off Lane's middle if they passed too close, and with the streets so densely packed there was no way not to.

The steadily ballooning owl was getting plenty of attention. Lane grinned whenever he spotted someone staring, always taking a moment to give his belly a pat or exaggerate his waddle. He was also practically guzzling the lift lager. Inflating in public was one of Lane's not-so-secret pleasures, and a reason why the majority of his bardic performances ended with him spherical and creaking. Lane adored seeing the reactions to his swelling, the curious prods, the drunken bets of whether or not he'd pop. It didn't take much encouragement to convince patrons to roll or bounce him around, and the tips tended to be better when he was more borb than bard. Of course it helped that the more buzzed he became the more eager he was to expand.

Rho knew his friend well enough, and considered trying to tell the owl he was in danger of indulging a bit too much. Ultimately he decided to simply let Lane make his own mistakes. Teasing blimps was always fun, especially ones as big as Lane.

With an entire jug of lift lager drained, Lane's middle had become quite the orb. His waddle was slowed dramatically, to the point where it seemed like it'd take an eternity to leave the market. Rho had moved behind his ballooning friend as there was not enough room to continue side-by-side—something others were beginning to discover as well.

“They really oughta—bworrrrrrrrrrrrrp—widen these streets!” Lane said as he took another swig and belched. “It's getting—urrrp—almost impossible to pass people.”

“Such a shame no one builds roads with bloated borbs in mind.”

Rho gave Lane's gut a hard slap just to watch him burp and swell, nearly knocking him off-balance in the process. The owl was already considerably lighter, and Rho bet he could probably lift him up in the air with little effort at that point. The thought amused him, imagining himself chucking Lane towards the nearest crowd and watching everyone scatter for fear of being squashed. Lane might even bounce right down the road if he had enough momentum.

“R-Rho, Rho buddy. Having trouble reaching the—braaap—jug. Mind lending me a hoof?” Lane asked.

“You can't reach the jug anymore because you're literally an orb,” Rho laughed.

Lane stopped—though he hadn't been moving forwards much at all to be honest—and finally bothered taking a good look at himself. Sure enough, he was undeniably round. His sides spread out as far as his middle, and he assumed his back was the same way. His wings were of little use able to flap and slap his sides but not much else. The lager was still making him swell some, the owl feeling almost weightless. Though thoroughly buzzed, Lane knew perfectly well what was about to happen.

A nervous burp rumbled out, and all of a sudden Lane started to hover.

Laughter spread amongst the crowd that had become an audience. As Lane slowly rose he wobbled, as if there were some say for him to actually return to solid ground on his own.

“Oh...um, Rho, I might need you to—uorrrp—grab my leg or something.”

“As fun as it would be to tie a rope to you and parade you around the city like an oversized balloon, I've unfortunately got other plans for the day Lane!” Rho gave his floating friend a gentle pat goodbye before he rose too high. “Try to avoid your smaller flying cousins up there! Talons and beaks don't mix well with taut hide, and you're not always the most durable bird.”

It was impossible for Lane to see Rho down below, but he scowled nonetheless. “Suit yourself! I'm just going to have a nice float home then! Lots more space—bworrp—up here. I could even serenade the city from up high.”

“You sing terrible while drunk Lane, so I hope you're good at dodging rocks then!”

A thunderous belch was Lane's only reply.

Lane groaned and blushed as he felt the pressure within him worsen some as he finally stopped swelling. It was a delightful sensation, further proof of how big he'd gotten. The faintest creaks echoed from his body, nothing to prompt worry, only relaxing ambiance. He didn't think about how high he would end up or how he'd manage to get back down again. For now he'd enjoy the peace of being in the sky while knowing the whole city below would be able to admire his wonderfully round form...