My toxic trait is that I need to expirience the whole pallete of emotions while being aroused which means that I get to enjoy all the sides of inflation, including the one that most seem to be repulsed by.
Yes, I do love popping. Not the sweet teasing and playful type, but the threatening and dangerous one. Of course, I can enjoy something more light. But most of the time, honestly, I prefer to be handled more roighly. I don't dislike getting put into place with such thing - tell me what happens when balloons don't behave properly. Tell me how you can easily overpower me and rid me of any room for movement, leaving me absolutely helpless and up to your will to decide what happens to me next.
Don't be shy to show it, too. Being empty-worded isn't nice, you know? Pump some more, don't bother giving me rest. Watch the way my expression changes from lust, to worry, to discomfort, to pain, to absolute horror when I realize that you weren't joking about tearing me apart this time. I want to fear the way my skin tenses up and starts splitting with raging stretch marks spreading out. To weep and moan, unable to speak up with my brain overridden with disgusting amount of new feelings.
Just tell me, will you be so nice to put a few stitches on my ripped skin and give me the last piece of emotion that I need - some joy that comes with praise of serving my only purpose of being your balloon?