"come on," -tsst- "just a little more," -tsst- "just look how much more room you have!"
It's true; There was no doubt that you were huge, your rounded out gut pulling skin tight across your sides. A few short weeks ago and you were pleading with her, unable to do much but stretch around the pressure within, begging to be allowed release. And she laughed and rolled the little bulb pump in her palm, as if deciding whether to make you burst.
Just a few short weeks. And now, the same size, all you could feel was how empty you were.
"You've done so well," she said, puffing away at the bulb. She squeezed it in her palm carefully, robotically -- you'd both learnt by now that you respond best to even, consistent flow -- and yet her eyes wandered across your balloning body as if it were a gift she were eager to open. Her acrylic nails dragged across your wary skin. "Haven't you?"
"Y-yes..." your response came out on its own. With her hands still working to fill you there was little room left for thought, and the training of the last several weeks took over. "Yes, I've been good..."
"Good enough to increase?"
Your stomach groaned, low and loud. For weeks now she'd been pushing you to your limit, pump by excruciating pump. Every few days the amount increased, though how much more she decided you could take seemed more like a game to her than a plan.
Her pumping didn't falter. The air inside you fought to press deeper and deeper into your gut, bloating your body in ways you'd have never thought possible before her. "Y..."
"Yes..." She smiled. She was more disciplined than to excitedly pick up the pace -- You might have to stop if she went too fast -- but the little puffs of air kept building, and building, and building. And you whined.
"Poor thing, we'll get there... Two hundred and fifty four, only forty-seven pumps left." She put a hand on your belly as it grumbled and growled in protest, air working its way through your insides. Wherever it could find room, you thought, it should go.
And she pouted. "You can do it, can't you?" As your back arched to create more space. As your muscles stretched to accomodate the burden. You were pregnant by her, for all intents, as your body fought day after day to adjust to the ever-growing demands of her whims.
And you felt the air begin to run out of room; no longer did it spread but hunker down, welcome more air into every nook and cranny of your insides. Your whole body began to feel the pressure climbing from each pump, pump, pump.
"I asked you a question." You didn't need to see your bellybutton to know your skin was wobbling to make room. Any bit of space to relieve a little pressure even as it climbed higher and higher, and pushed your own thoughts out of your head. "Thirty pumps left, my balloon. Can you do it?" Her steady pace did not wait for your answer. But it came from your throat, all the same.
tsst, tsst, tsst, tsst, tsst
