tagFetishBalloon Factory Pt. 04: Melanie

Balloon Factory Pt. 04: Melanie

byblowhyoooge©

Fun Tyme Balloon Company, Part 5: Melanie's Story

Melanie blew one last big breath into the colorful 36" balloon, climbed up her stepladder, and tied it to the string that ran the length of the booth, then climbed down to admire her work. The three-foot orb was black with yellow stripes and finely-detailed red stars, and it was the last of a dozen balloons with different patterns showing off Fun Tyme's new Lazer-Sharp Lettering technology. She was expecting them to be a big hit at the trade show.

The booth was a mad riot of color. The Lazer-Sharp 36s were the highlights, but there were bright balloon arches, big columns of 11" balloons, and each corner was guarded by one of the company's four-foot-tall rabbit balloons. (It was a good thing she had extras; Melanie thought they were the five-foot rabbits, and she accidentally blew the first one to bursting.) Round balloons of various sizes littered the floor, and the tables had bowls of uninflated balloons, both to give out as samples and to replace the orbs that invariably got stepped on. "FUN TYME BALLOONS" was spelled out in rainbow-colored latex balloon letters. They were not production items but were specially made for and had to be blown up very carefully. The E was the toughest, and Melanie always brought lots of extras. This time she had only popped two before getting one blown up fully, which she regarded as a victory.

"Excuse me," said a man who was standing at the booth. He must have been watching her inflate that last balloon, but when you have three feet of black latex swelling in front of your face, you can't exactly see.

"Yes, hello," Melanie said, with a pleasant smile that comes naturally to people who work in marketing departments.

"Did you just blow up that big balloon?" the man asked.

"I did," she said.

"Why?" he asked.

Melanie shot him a confused look. "Well, they don't blow themselves up."

"No, I mean why did you have to blow it up? You work for a balloon company. Don't you have a pump or something?"

"Oh!" Melanie laughed. Blowing up balloons now came so naturally to her that she didn't even think about it any more, but she remembered that most people weren't accustomed to seeing people inflate such big balloons by mouth.

"We don't use a pump," Melanie said. "Market research shows that 88% of balloon buyers blow up our products by mouth. They usually use a pump for the bigger balloons like the one you saw me inflating, but still. Mr. Globos, our CEO, likes us to remember that behind every balloon is a person, so we try to inflate our products the way our customers would."

"But... surely you didn't blow up all of these balloons by mouth. I mean, you must have dozens around this booth. Hundreds, maybe."

"About 400 if you include the ones in the Guess How Many Balloons tent," Melanie said with a smile. "But no, I didn't blow them all up, I have an assistant."

"He must have some set of lungs," the man said.

"She," Melanie said with a laugh. Melanie preferred to have women as her assistants at the trade shows, because they did a better job blowing up the balloons. Guys always seemed to want to show off, huffing and puffing and blowing the balloons up fast, but they quickly got winded and fell behind, and she wound up doing most of the inflating. Women paced themselves better. Her assistant Christy, who was off getting coffee, was a gem, a single mother who lived in a house with a pool. She had years of experience blowing up giant pool floats, so the balloons were no problem. Along with about half the balloons decorating the booth—including all, four rabbits, after Melanie blew the first one to bits—she had blown up everyone of of the balloons in the Guess How Many tent (231, but that number would not be revealed until the last day of the trade show, when they would be popped and counted) and hard hardly broken a sweat.

"Wow, two girls blowing up all these balloons! That's impressive!" the guy said. She had heard this comment dozens of times. The implied sexism used to bother her, but now she just smiled. A lot of guys were impressed by women who could blow up balloons, and some were, ahem, really impressed; she knew that all too well. It was too early to tell if this one had a special interest or not. She thought of telling him that all of the booth decorations would have to be popped and refreshed with freshly-blown balloons each morning, but why bother?

"Here," she said, picking one of the new Lazer Print balloons out of a drawer. "Give this a try, and if you can't manage, bring it back here and I'll blow it up for you."

"Thanks," the man laughed. "Well, I have to get back to my booth. Doors open in ten minutes. Bill Hedley, Hedley Stuffed Toys," he said, thrusting out a hand.

"Melanie Hager, Fun Tyme Balloon Company," Melanie said, shaking his hand and fishing a business card out of her pocket. The man looked at it.

"Marketing manager, eh?" Bill asked. "I'd love to hear how you got that job."

"It's a long story," Melanie said.

Actually, it was a story of revenge.

Melanie still kicked herself for falling in love with Tom, but she understood why it happened. She was what her father called "Rubenesque", but what the kids at school just called fat. She hated her face, she hated her glasses, she hated her oversized breasts, and she hated the discount-rack clothing her parents bought for her. While her college friends were mating like rabbits, Melanie went to bed alone night after night. She thought she was destined to be single for the rest of her life, so when Tom—handsome, popular, the kind of guy who she thought would never notice her—started paying attention, she felt head over heels.

"If you love me, you'll do it." That's how Tom got her to do everything. That's why she let him kiss her while he stuck his hand up her blouse and squeezed her tits. That's why she let him put his penis in her mouth and why she let him take her virginity.

And it was what he said about the balloons.

The first time he had her blow up a balloon seemed innocent enough. They were at his apartment making out (although Tom seemed to spend a lot more time kissing her dessert-plate-sized areolas than her mouth), when all of a sudden he noticed something on the table.

"Hey, a balloon," he had said. "I wonder where... oh, yeah, I stuck this in my pocket after that party at my neighbor's the other night. Hey, why don't you blow it up?"

Melanie shrugged. She'd do pretty much anything Tom asked, and besides, she was bored with him sucking on her nipples. She took a breath, put the little orange latex bulb in her mouth, and blew, swelling up the balloon. She blew another breath into the balloon, and then another, and another, and admired her handiwork.

"Blow it bigger," Tom said. There was a note she recognized in his voice, a slight huskiness that she usually heard just before he would try to push her head further down on his cock. She didn't like that, and she wondered what was going on. Was there something sexy about a balloon? But she blew another breath.

"Bigger," he said, and she blew again. "Go on, blow it more."

"Tom. I think it's getting full," Melanie said.

"No, it's not, I promise. You can blow it much bigger than that. Trust me."

"But what if it pops?"

"It won't pop," Tom said. "I promise. You love me, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Melanie said. (She always cringed when she thought back to that moment.)

"Then trust me." Tom said. "Blow the balloon bigger."

And so Melanie blew, again and again, at Tom's urging, until not only the body of the balloon was tightly inflated, but the neck as well.

"I think it'll take another blow," Tom said in that husky voice.

"I don't think so," Melanie said. "It's getting really hard to blow. I think it's full. If I blow it any bigger, it's going to pop."

"Trust me," Tom said again. Melanie did trust him, so she took a breath and started to blow—and as soon as she did, BANG!! The balloon exploded in her face, and she screamed.

"Tom, it popped! You said you weren't going to let me blow it that big!"

"Oh, it, uh, it must have been defective or something," Tom said. "You blew it so big..." Melanie was starting to cry—but then Tom's arms were around her, and she felt his hard member pressing against her panties. She laid back, pulled the thin fabric aside to let him in... and within seconds the balloon was forgotten... for the moment, at least.

Nothing was said about the balloon incident, but a week later, after she cooked him a nice dinner at her own place, Tom presented her with another one. This time, there was no subterfuge: "I want you to blow this up until it pops," he told her.

"Tom, I don't want to," Melanie said. "I'll blow it up, I'll blow up as many balloons as you want, but please don't make me pop it. That really scared me."

"If you love me, you'll do it," Tom said.

"It's not about love," Melanie said. "I just don't really like it."

"Come on, Mel," Tom cajoled. "Amy lets Brent fuck her in the ass, and she doesn't like it, but she does it because she loves him. I'm not asking you to do anything terrible. I just want you to pop a little balloon, that's all. People pop balloons all the time. Little kids do it. Come on, baby, don't you love me? Aren't you willing to do this for me?"

"I don't like doing it, Tom," Melanie said again, and he gave her his best puppy dog eyes in reply.

"I thought you loved me, Mel," he said, and was that the trace of a tear in his left eye? "But maybe you don't love me as much as I thought."

"Of course I love you, Tom," Mel said, putting her arms around her and pressing a large breast against his forearm.

"I shouldn't have asked," Tom said. "I just... I guess I thought you felt differently about me."

"No, Tom, I love you!" Mel said. "Here, give me the balloon."

"No, Mel, that's okay. I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do. Maybe later, when you love more..."

"Tom, I couldn't love you any more. Here, give me the balloon. I'll blow it up for you. I'll blow it up nice and big until it pops. I'll do anything you want, and anyway it's just a balloon. I love you, Tom." She took the balloon out of his hands, put it to her lips, and began to blow. The explosion scared the daylights out of her, but then he was inside her, and all was right with the world.

Again, nothing was said, but two days later, as they made out, Tom produced another balloon. This time there was nothing said; he handed it to her, and she began to inflate it, one hand on his lap, feeling his member grow as he watcher her huff and puff. She closed her eyes as the balloon filled, until—BANG!!

But this time, he didn't try to make love to her. Instead, he handed her another balloon.

"Another," he said, simply.

"Tom, I just blew one up for you! I blew it so big it popped in my face!"

"You said you'd blow up as many balloons as I wanted," Tom said. "Today I want more."

"But you're already hard, Tom! I know you get hard watching me inflate these balloons until they explode. Can't we make love now?"

"Another," Tom said again. "You'd do it if you loved me."

And so Melanie blew the second balloon, closing her eyes for the inevitable BANG as her massive lungs tore the balloon into little tiny shards of latex. And did he fuck her then? No, he handed her another balloon, a slightly bigger one.

"Tom..." she said. Her ears were ringing from the first two explosions, and her heart was hammering.

"Blow it for me," he said. "You love me, don't you?"

And so Melanie put the balloon to her lips and began to inflate. it She closed her eyes and braced herself, but the balloon didn't bust. She blew and blew and blew. Why hadn't the balloon popped? She opened her eyes and looked at the balloon. It was huge—much bigger than the balloons he'd made her blow up before.

"Holy shit, Tom, how big is this?"

"It's a 16 inch balloon," Tom said, and she noticed that he had taken out his cock and was stroking it. "And it'll get bigger. Keep blowing, baby."

"Tom, I'm scared! This thing is huge and it's going to pop in my face!"

"I said blow!" Tom said, almost yelled, impatiently. Melanie must have looked frightened, because he quickly said, "I'm sorry, baby. It's just that I'm so ready to make love to you, but I need you to pop this balloon first. Please do it. Don't make me wait."

"But it's so big, Tom. I'm scared of how loud it will be. I'm afraid it'll hurt me when I blow it to popping," Melanie said.

"It won't be any worse than the other balloons you've been blown," Tom said. "Not as bad, actually. I mean, I'm not really sure, but I've heard these bigger balloons don't pop as violently."

Melanie didn't see how this was possible, but she trusted Tom. "You promise?" she said.

"I promise. Now, please, blow the balloon up bigger for me. Please, baby."

And so Melanie started to blow, her cheeks reddened and aching from the effort, as she swelled the massive balloon bigger and bigger. The balloon squeaked uncomfortably, its long neck curving in a way she hadn't seen the other balloons do. At least the big part of the balloon was far away from her face!

'Tom, I can't keep it in my mouth, I've blown it so big," she said.

"Just do it," Tom said in that husky voice as he stroked his cock rapidly. "Do it, baby. Blow it. Bust that balloon. Blow it for me, baby! Pop it for me!"

Melanie stretched what was left of the balloon's nozzle, holding it between her lips as best she could. Knowing how difficult it was to keep the balloon in her mouth, she figured she had to make each breath count. She inhaled deeply through her nose, filling her lungs until they felt ready to burst like the balloon in her hands, and she blew with all her might, long and hard, her cheeks puffing and straining, her brow furrowed. She was sure the balloon would explode, but it kept taking the air she was forcing into it, squeaking, straining, growing... and just when her lungs were almost empty... KABAM!!

The balloon was ripped to shreds, a thousand tiny shards of wet green latex falling gently around the room. Tom had lied—the explosion was loud and violent, much worse than the other two balloons she had just blown to pop—but Melanie felt the slightest sexual thrill, and it wasn't just because Tom would now make love to her. "I did it!" she thought to herself. "I blew that big balloon to bursting, just like my boyfriend wanted!" She felt the thrill of an orgasm wrack her body. "Oh, God!" she screamed.

"Oh, God!" Tom yelled. And she was ready for him to make love to her.

But he didn't. He stood up and, without so much as a word, placed the tip of his cock on her lips. Too shocked to do anything else, Melanie obediently opened her mouth, and he slid his cock deep into her mouth, where he blasted a hot load of cum.

"Oh my God," he said, picking a thin piece of latex from the balloon she had just destroyed out of her cleavage. "That was amazing, Mel. You really do love me."

Now there were balloons every time they got together. Always the big 16" ones—and then balloons got even bigger. When he first handed her what she would later learn was a Q24, she couldn't believe she had the lungpower to blow something so big, and of course it got way larger than she thought, a giant light-bulb shaped monster filled with the air from her lungs. She held it up when it was nearly fully blown, and it seemed to stand almost as tall as she did. She didn't ask if the explosion would be more violent than the 16" balloons she had blown to destruction, because she knew Tom would lie to her. She just blew and braced herself. That balloon put up a real fight, and she spent nearly as much time trying to get that final, fatal breath into it as she did filling it up to its giant light-bulb shape, with Tom stroking his cock all the time.

The biggest balloon he made her blow up a three foot balloon that surprised her by popping before the neck inflated, but the explosion was softer than the other balloons she had blown to bursting. Although they took the longest to blow, she liked those three-footers the best, and encouraged him to use them. "Don't you want to see me blow up a really big balloon, Tom?" she would purr in his ear, and the ruse usually worked.

Sometimes he would fuck her after she blew a few balloons to destruction, and occasionally, usually after a balloon that made her struggle, he'd repeat the shoving-his-cock-in-her-mouth-and-cumming act, which left her unsatisfied but at least happy that she had shown her love by fulfilling his needs. But more and more frequently, he would simply masturbate, blasting his cum on the balloon as she blew it. The first time that happened, she didn't know what came next, so she kept blowing up the balloon.

"Why are you still doing that?" he said, a cruel and impatient edge to his voice. "I'm done, aren't I?"

"But don't you want me to pop the balloon?" she said, taking another deep breath and blowing.

"I said I'm done!" He grabbed a pen from the table and stabbed the balloon as she blew it. It popped, stunning her. She said nothing.

The next time he came on the balloon, she stopped blowing and started to let the air out.

"Why are you doing that?" he said. "I don't want to use that balloon. It's disgusting. Just pop it." She stabbed it with an earring, but he seemed totally disinterested in the explosion.

Gradually, the lovemaking became less and less frequent, thought he balloon-blowing sessions had by now become a daily affair. She would blow up balloon after balloon, Tom masturbating with one hand and sometimes squeezing her breasts or fingering her pussy with the other. Sometimes she'd stroke his cock as he blew, and he's bury his hands in her massive tit-flesh. He'd cum on the balloon, she'd pop it, and he'd quickly kiss her goodbye, get in his car, and leave, while she picked thin shards of shredded latex, still warm and wet from her powerful lungs.

Eventually, the lovemaking stopped altogether. And soon after, Melanie discovered why.

Melanie had seen her. She worked at one of the cell phone shops in the mall. She was pretty, with blue eyes and a slim figure. After a particularly violent balloon-blowing sessions—two Q24s blown to smithereens, plus a 16" balloon for good measure—Tom left, and this time she followed him.

Right to this new woman's house, where the bedroom light went on... and then off.

Melanie was stunnedadn't she done everything he wanted? Wasn't she still blowing his stupid balloons to popping? And why was he having her blow up all these balloons, then fucking some other woman instead of her?

Soon, however, she found out. She waited by the shop where the woman worked, waited until she left for the day, when went in and asked her co-workers about her, saying she had a brother who thought she was cute. Terrianne was her name, but unfortunately she was seeing someone—Tom, they thought he was called. Apparently Terri was head over heels, unable to believe that an amazing guy like Tom was single.

Melanie looked at the balloons decorating the store, and tried to sound as casual as possible.

"These balloons are really pretty. I suppose Terrianne had to blow them up at the beginning of her shift?"

"No, I'm the one who inflates them," her coworker said. "Terri can't blow up balloons. She has asthma."

They say hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and whoever "they" are, they are right. The next night, they had their looning session as always (the death toll: Two 16" balloons and one three-footer). He excused himself, saying he had to get home to get to sleep for an early-morning shift.

Ten minutes after he left, she too slipped out the door. She drove to his apartment, not at all surprised to see that his car was nowhere to be found. She took the spare key out of the flowerpot and let herself in. Under his bed, he found the plastic container with his most prized possessions—his balloons.

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