The Transdimensional P-Underwear, an unusual pair of undies or sometimes swimwear that defies reality, using some unwilling host to catapult itself through dimensions by the force of an overinflated explosion. Bandit Heeler is the newest victim of these undies, as he unwittingly puts them on with the intention to go for a swim at the motel before his work trip. Well, sufficed to say he does get wet, but also may be unwilling to let Fluffy off the chain in the near or distant future.


.:Rated general for:.
>Inflation
>Gas (Coloured)
>>Belching
>>Farting (Rubbery Smell)
>Popping
>>Non-Fatal
>>Non-Gory


Bandit Heeler/Bluey is © Ludo Studio.


Word Count: 3364

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Burp to the Frrpture

Before this story begins, it’s worth prefacing it with Concept. Concept is the concept of something; as in, an abstract idea. It could exist, or it might not, hence why it’s conceptual, theoretical, figurative, heretical. However, Infinite Possibility says that there is always the minutest chance something will happen, even if just once. The Concept here then is a pair of innocuous sunny yellow underpants, with a big white P on the butt, or sometimes the pouch. Sometimes it’s a speedo, sometimes it’s briefs. There isn’t always a rhyme or reason to the Transdimensional P-Underwear; it simply is and will be as is catapults itself across time and space so that they may be found, and worn. And with an infinite stage upon which this play will act, there will always be one butt for those pants. With that said, let’s begin.

Bandit was the first to arrive at this middle of nowhere motel, his co-workers having taken a later flight than he did. So, he basically had the whole day to himself, with not much to do but kick back and relax. He had already video called his girls letting them know he was alright after the flight, but the mobile service was shockers out here so any further check-ins would have to wait until after the archaeological survey. With that said, it was time for a swim! The pool outside was fenced off, and there was no one else about so he could enjoy a soak for as long as he pleased. Now, if only he could find his budgie smugglers. He knew he had packed them, but the more he dug through his suitcase the less he seemed to find, except…. “What the heck are these?” Bandit remarked, holding up a gaudy yellow speedo.

He certainly didn’t remember packing it, so, maybe it was a prank or gift from the girls? Or possibly Chilli? Well, they’d have to do since he couldn’t find his black bathers anywhere, so off went the clothes, leaving the blue heeler all in the buff, his jelly-belly jiggling about. “Ooof, I really need to lay off the biscuits” Bandit remarked, gently smacking his side and letting that blubber jiggle. “I swear it’s getting jigglier every day. Maybe that old pug lady was right” he added while shifting into the speedo.

Holding the waistband with both thumbs, Bandit released, the elastic snapping against his sides hard enough to send tremors through them. Still, they were a perfect fit, and they did a good job hugging his buns nicely. Not too tight, but enough to show off their shapeliness. “Hmm, at least the fluffy machine is looking good” he thought to himself as he slid a hand down his posterior.

Brrrpp! Oh, speak of the devil. PRRrrrbbbb! Oh, so nice it said it twice. Pity he didn’t have anyone to torment with it, though, if he did, they would have noticed the slight yellow tinge to his crop dusters. Still, it was a good day for a swim, and with a motel towel he walked out the door, but he couldn’t but feel a little odd. “BWWWAAARRRPP! Ooo, I think I drank too many softies today” he groaned, his stomach getting a bit bubbly.

His gut was looking a bit bloated too, and from a quick rub it was also feeling a bit taut. There was a firmness behind the blubber, and Bandit knew full well it wasn’t from all the ab crunches he wasn’t doing. Brrrrrrppppp! “Phwoar” Bandit grunted, wafting away the oddly not-at-all-smelly fluffy he unleashed.

He really needed a dip now, might help calm his guts down. It was but a short walk, and yet the blue heeler was looking a bit swollen, the casual jiggle of his side ebbing away into the flow of a rounding, grumbling gut. His swaying glutes, once casually bouncing, were looking more restrained than ever behind the yellow speedo and its big white P. Bandit belched loudly as he reached for the pool gate, the air rippling as there was a real heat behind it. He yet again rubbed at his middle, feeling the tightness as his sag had given away to a rounded balloon belly. “Crikey, was it the airplane fish? Chilli told me that stuff was dodgy” Bandit wondered.

Cocking a leg he tensed up, his cheeks quaked from a louder, more bombastic booty blast. A thick cloud of yellow gas hung round his calves and ankles, and, to be honest, Bandit was starting to get worried. Maybe it was his imagination or too many kid’s parties, but he could swear he could hear a faint hissing sound, like the sort you hear when blowing up a balloon. But that was crazy right? Not unless someone stuck a hose up his clacker and from careful examination they hadn’t, and yet the gassy feeling was gassier than ever. Didn’t help he had to double over, teeth clenched hard as his buns rippled from another explosion out his derriere, his tail bolt upright from the strain. Maybe a swim at this point was a bad idea, but going back didn’t look too good either. “BWAAAAAARRRRRPPPP!! UUUUURRRRRRRPPPP!”

What the heck was going on? The hissing sound was getting louder and Bandit couldn’t find any relief even after releasing all this pressure. Creak! Grooooaaaannn! Looking down, Bandit’s ears stiffened as his belly stood completely outright, like a cartoon character who had just swallowed a beach ball. But it wasn’t a beach ball it was him! And his manly curves were turning into some rather homophobic straights as all his creases and folds were being pulled away. Biscuits what was going on?! His innards grumbled worryingly, his gut bloating up even more. “Bloody hell I’m swelling up!” Bandit exclaimed, finally catching on.

How was this even possible? Dogs don’t just go around randomly inflating, not unless it was make believe like from a cartoon. But he wasn’t a cartoon he was real and- PLLLLLRRRRRBBBB! Twisting his taut hips about, Bandit goggled at his back fat ass blimping up behind him. The strange speedo he was wearing hugged at his big fat bowling ball cheeks lovingly, canvasing them while still clinging deep enough that his crack was very much visible below. His blue buns were as round as his middle too, and they were getting bigger before his very eyes; they were trembling too, and Bandit could feel a sudden pressure rushing through his guts. FRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPP!!! It sounded like the creaking of a loud old door, and yet it had the faintest hint of rubber. The alarming part was the thick yellow colour his toot had, which, let’s be honest, would be alarming too everyone. “Biscuits I need a doctor!” Bandit yelped.

But where would he even find anyone? The nearest doctor was at least an hour away and there’s no way there’d be any specialist in the world that could handle an inflating dog! His belly was creeping out just like a balloon, with plenty of gas in the tank as he belched loud and hard, his adam’s apple bobbing from the explosive outbursts. And despite all this release it felt like it was having the opposite effect, his middle bloating up even faster as if somehow making all that space just left more space. The blue heeler groaned as he rubbed at his broad middle, never in his life ever feeling so full! All his lovely chubby creases and folds were gone, pulled straight by his thick drum of a gut measuring round into the perfect sphere. A sphere that didn’t so much jiggle as it did bob and wobble, bouncing about awkwardly as Bandit compulsively belched, his cheeks habitually spreading to fart harder than ever. A thickening cloud of yellow was forming around him, the smell of rubber ever-pervasive as the hiss of gas wriggled about inside his bouncing, stretchy ass cheeks. They even sounded like balloons, making a stretchy, creaking sound you could only get from rubber. Or maybe that was the speedo as it was being tugged at by his ballooning buns, still hugging if a little tighter to his massiveness, with even more of the cheeky underside spilling out by the inch. Bandit was looking absolutely ridiculous like this, the chunky canine sporting a belly big enough to rest both of his kids on, while counterbalanced by an arse that was daring to get just as big! “UUUUUUOOOOORRRRRPPPPP!!!” FRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPP!!!

Bandit couldn’t stop the gas from either end, the belches escaping through his fingers and no way could he even wedge his hand over his voluminous rear, even if he wanted too. The old dog just couldn’t stop the swelling nor find relief, the pressure inside constantly growing, increasing by the second so much you could almost faintly see a tinge of sunny yellow through his paler yellow middle. Bandit stood paralysed, unable to do more than grip onto his massive middle and push, desperate to squeeze the gas out. Certainly his tail blew upwards from another thrust of fart gas, but there was just no stopping it. The more he let out the more there seemed to be, and his sides appeared to be getting in on the action as they bowed and rounded, meeting up with his stomach to form an even larger sphere composed of his entire midsection. Bandit’s torso felt so small and lost as his body bloated up around it, feeling like an island in an ever-growing sea. Groan! Gurgle! Sweeeellll!! The strangeness was only getting worse as Bandit’s rump engorged itself on girth, ballooning into an arse big enough to park a motorbike in, and the heft wasn’t stopping at his boulder buns. A tuck, a crease of skin was forming around his hips, spilling out onto his thighs as his cheeks filled up the space around them. “YIPE!” Bandit yelped from a sudden pop.

The pop in question was his legs being forced apart, his underside suddenly blimping out as his butt and belly seemed to meet. Bandit had turned into a real pear shape; gut wider than two feet on one side, and a butt almost equally as big on the other side. FRRRRRRRPPPPPP!!! Gas erupted out of Bandit’s deep crack, the yellow speedo now only able to cover part of his bountiful butt as it stretched rather impressively, but not enough that he had plenty of plumber’s crack hanging out of the top, with something of a wedgie tucking the fabric into his lower cleft. Not that it mattered much when so much ass was hanging out of both sides, the mass still building around his thighs, forming a padded tuck from where the ass, hips, and thighs met. Bandit’s torso was massive, utterly absurd and bigger than a medicine ball, and he had absolutely no idea how his gut, a gut that obscured his view, was able to hold up except maybe for it being that full of gas. “UUUURRRRRRRPPPP! BUUURRRRRPPPP! YYYAAAAAARRRRRRRPPP!!”

It was getting real bad, and the pressure wasn’t just mounting in his guts but he could feel it pushing down everywhere, his gut trembling as mass suddenly shifted downwards, plumping out his gooch and everywhere in-between. His legs were at such an awkward truss, only, the pressure seemed to be getting to there as well as his thighs hissed and swelled, creaking like the rest of him. The tuck between his legs and thighs were slowly turning into a large fold, as if his swollen thighs were sinking into his body. It felt like a real possibility, as Bandit wasn’t just feeling rounder now, he was feeling bigger. He was feeling definitely lighter; light on his feet as a lot of feeling was being lost to internal pressure and the constant thunderous roar of his ass blasts. He was marooned almost, his chest and upper body lost on this swelling, farting, burping wild ride he was on with no way to get off. Plus the speedo was starting to dig into his waist a bit, which didn’t really help matters as his massive lower body tilted forwards, enormous rump to the wind. PLLLLRRRRRRRRRBBBB! BLLLLLLLRRRRRRRRPPPPPTTTTTT!!! Crikey if wasn’t starting to feel so good to fart and burp so much, but it was a bit worrying about what was happening to him just wasn’t stopping. And by now it was far too late to even try and waddle back through the pool gate when he had missed that chance two square feet ago. Heck it took a lot of effort to even try and move a tight leg, his knees just not bending as they sank into the expansive mass of his legs. The one foot he even managed to lift suddenly swelled in mid-air, each toe popping one by one into a bunch of small balloons. They felt padded on the way down, throwing Bandit off as he wheeled his arms about to catch his balance. “Even my stompers?!” Bandit fretted.

Honestly the first person view of all this was crazy, but it would be equally insane to any observer who caught sight of a dog with a lower torso bigger than the rest of him, with no folds to be found; just pure tight skin and fur like an upside-down balloon. His swollen, engorging mass was gorging itself on his legs, and even with how massive they were getting, to the point of being so full his thigh gap had all but gone, it wasn’t enough for his body. Bandit was absurdly gigantic, like weather balloon gigantic, and he still couldn’t stop inflating. His body churned and glorped, the noises getting louder than his compulsive belching and farting, and they were pretty loud. His ass was starting to sound like a fog horn, with his flatulence playing the part of the fog as his fluffies were straight up as yellow as the gaudy speedo that seemed to either stretch to infinity, or it was growing with him. Whatever the case Bandit was still inflating, growing vaster in every moment the dog could only stand in awe. Not that he had much choice with his puffy and useless his feet were, and where would he even go. GGGLLLLLLRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPP!!!!!

Bandit’s ears perked, the sound emanating from his stomach an ominous sign of something, that being his body swelling up even faster, and harder as the pressure went to his chest, his pec-moobs turning round and taut, even flowing into his shoulders and arms. Immediately they went bolt upright, the perfect T-pose as the mystifying gas and pressure pumped them up so hard they might as well be an accessory. Bandit’s middle was rising up to meet the rest of him, fully rounding out his body as his neck vanished into an inflated collar of fur, his cheeks puffing up as he began to belch uncontrollably. His body was rocked by a massive fart, finally tipping him over. Bandit flailed his arms helplessly as he fell into the much smaller motel pool, his body casually floating on the surface like a pool toy. “Bloody heEEEEELLLLLLL!” he belched in fright.

Wiggling his taut limbs as hard as he could, Bandit could do very little except casually float about. His insides continued to ROAR! with all the pent up gas, yellow bubbles forming around him as his rump let out some submerged ass blasts. Bandit groaned as he struggled with himself, unable to get upright but thankfully his swollen cheeks prevented his head from going under. And worse still, at this angle he watched his middle rise higher and higher into the sky, the enormous mound of inflated heeler actually obscuring the sun behind its mountainous mass. Is this what a pool noodle felt like, Bandit wondered. Was this what it was like to be an inflatable toy, just lazily bobbing about in the water? Honestly he could get used to this, if he wasn’t supposed to be a dad and a husband with a family waiting for him back home. And it wasn’t helping that it was feeling really good to let all this gas out; it was giving him a pleasurable tingle along his spine every time his cheeks trembled, and another rush of thick fluffies were expelled out his ringer. He used to burp a lot when he was younger, but not like this; they were never as powerful, or as satisfying. “UUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPP!!!”

Just like that, he could feel a tingle of satisfaction in how good that felt; in the slight relief it gave before the overwhelming pressure returned and was he floating more now? Looking about wildly Bandit suddenly realized that he was being slowly drawn out of the pool, the water tugging but failing to keep its hold as he was pulled from its embrace. “CRIKEY ERRRRRRRPPPPPP! WHAT’S BUUUUURRRRRRRPPPPPP HAPPENING?!” he cried as his body pulled free.

Ever so gracefully Bandit did rise from the water, his spherical mass hovering above the pool and steadily gaining height. In no time he was higher than the fence and the ground floor of motel rooms, now level with the second floor. Bandit couldn’t help but chuckle that he was flying, actually flying, though he’d prefer it if he wasn’t an enormous mini-bus-sized blimp and that he could move his arms. By now they were both so swollen they couldn’t move, and also steadily being consumed by the main mass that was his body. Belly, chest, butt, it was all one big sphere with his limbs barely sticking out of the mega mass, with the spaces around his hands and feet swelling into inflatable pool rings. There was a sudden tilt as he suddenly went upright, his body facing upwards as he launched slowly upwards, pushed along by a gaseous PPPPPLLLLLLLLRRRRRRRBBBBBTTTTTT! Oh Chilli and the girls would never believe this. Nobody would ever believe he launched himself into the air by the power of his own flatulence. Not even he could believe it, and it was HAPPENING to him at this very moment. Actually, while he could believe it, his focus was on something else. The pressure was getting really bad now, and he wasn’t expelling as much as he was. His burps were as normal as ever, and while his cheeks were rippling from the big bursts it just didn’t seem enough. And then it dawned on him: It dawned on Bandit what happened to balloons when they got to full. “Oh crikey I’m going, nggghh, to pop” he thought grimly.

Struggling hard Bandit didn’t even know why he was doing so. It’s not like it would help and there’s not much movement one can make when they’re a big inflated sphere with a giant speedo stretched around your lower half. It was digging into the biggest parts of his butt, but that was a problem for another time. But what could be done?! The more he struggled the more he seemed to inflate, and he was getting red marks all over his body from where he felt tightest. His hot air balloon body was creaking loudly, his innards groaning from the pressure climbing. Oh biscuits he was going to pop! HE WAS GOING TO POP! Bandit desperately forced himself to burp as much as he could, and he grit his teeth to try and clench out a big fart or two. But it couldn’t be helped as his limbs were engulfed, and Bandit was one big tight sphere floating in the air. The space around his head was creaking louder than ever, and the rest of his body was swelling up around him, forming a cave around his head as the light of day was almost gone. “Oooohhhh, biscuits!” he whimpered.

BANG! SPLASH! A storm of Bandit-coloured tatters went everywhere, scattering to the breeze as the P-Underwear launched off, a rift in space forming from the sonic boom of the explosion. It zipped on through and was gone, never to be seen in this space-time again. And down below, Bandit wrenched himself from the water, his head and eyes spinning as he beached himself on the side of the pool. “Crikey” he groaned, his tail straightening as bubbles emerged from behind him.