Prose That Blows

Freak, by Pongo

FREAK

by Pongo

Runner Up: Most Disturbing Story
Co-Runner Up: Sexiest Story, Most Original Story


The hotdog was starting to kick in. A second go on the dodgems held no appeal. She agreed to meet her friends by the ferris wheel when they were done, accepting care of their balloons without so much as a blush to betray her pleasure at receiving so many lofty charges, their upward tugging giving her tingles.

Meandering past the booths and stalls, she rounded a corner to be arrested by a strange tableau.

“Next in our cavalcade of freaks, Bobby the Balloon Boy, one hundred percent pneumatic, guaranteed to give everyone’s mood a lift!” cried the spruiker. On the riser behind him, a caricature of a man, see-through red latex, clad only in boxer shorts, waved to the audience and winked when he caught Sarah’s eye, his attention drawn to her cloud of floating friends. Tingles became flushes. He was perfection. Hamming up his squeaky movements, the balloon man danced across the platform to a cylinder, placed his lips over the nozzle and opened the valve.

“Bobby here can inflate himself to three times his usual size with no ill effects.”

True to the spruiker’s words, the balloon man was swelling in all directions, his arms and legs quickly starfishing, his torso bulging wildly, his boxers clearly struggling to contain a burgeoning manhood that was not unnoticed by the growing crowd, the women pointing and giggling, the men joshing each other about settling the matter with a pin.

“Careful there, Bobby, can’t have you floating away…”

Bobby’s feet left the stage, his inflating frame pivoting about the nozzle.

“…and we don’t want you to pop!”
Sarah gave an involuntary shiver. Could the gathering smell her arousal? The balloons on her wrist tugged upward, matching Bobby’s distending intent. She scissored her thighs to scratch her growing itch a little, but not enough. Bobby waved his sausage arms a little.

“Looks like ol’ Bobby’s in a little trouble, folks.”

The waving became frantic.

“Looks like he’s taking things further than he’s ever gone before. He’s gonna pop!” cried the spruiker, putting his fingers in his ears. Sarah looked like she was running on the spot.

Lips parted company with nozzle. With a frantic blurting noise, Bobby began to jet about over the upturned heads of the crowd, his lift diminishing as he shrank, but still giving him a good twenty feet of loft before his flaccid, shrunken form shot over the canvas partition, leaving only a forlorn pair boxers to glide down to the astounded punters.

“With that to give away free, just imagine what we have in store for you at the price of two dollars admission.”

The pitch was lost on Sarah. She had to meet Bobby.

It wasn’t hard to find a way to the trailers. The carnival invaded the reserve every year. It was public land. She had every citizens’ right to follow the spruiker around the back of the stalls, watch which trailer he entered, press her ear to the door and hear the whistling hiss of a balloon being inflated. She dashed for the shadows as she heard the spruiker:

“Next show’s in two hours, Bob.”

Hearing the trailer door slam, Sarah counted to one hundred and, deciding not to make any bones about it, knocked confidently.

The door opened and Bobby stood before her, reinflated and wearing a shower robe.

“Erm, hi. I’m Sarah. I…”

“You’d like to come in.” Bobby smiled, eyeing the balloon clutch once more. He stood aside and she stepped past, towing her bouncing friends behind her.

“You like balloons, don’t you?”

She nodded, letting go the ones she’d been holding so tightly so recently.

“You find balloons alluring.”

She nodded again.

“You like to fuck your toy balloons, don’t you?” Bobby let his robe fall from his shoulders, revealing his balloon cock, bobbing to erection.

Sarah nodded vigorously and began to shed her clothes hurriedly while Bobby treated her to the sight of his erection inflating larger and larger, till she stood naked, one hand lightly resting on a foot long inflatable hotdog.

Bobby produced a condom and rolled it down the length of his squeaky sausage.

Their exertions over, Sarah rose from the divot her weight made in Bobby’s form, his cock popping out of her with a comic fwoop sound. He wrestled the condom off his manballoon while she worked herself into a comfortable snuggle, pressing into his side and distending his free arm, making it hard for him to tie off the condom, which he place on the bedside table. They fell asleep.

Sarah awoke, already primed by the bulging, squeaking boy she’d been cuddling and the scent of his latex skin. She was surprised to see the condom, bouncing gently on the ceiling, inflated and floaty among the balloons she’d failed to return to her friends. She straddled her balloon lover and lowered herself onto his squeaky penis, enjoying the sensation of him inflating further, filling her up as she rode her balloon.

Bobby awoke to her grinding gyrations and smiled up at her.

“Did you use another condom?”
“No.”

“You really like balloons, don’t you?”

“Mmmhmmm.”

“You want to be a balloon.”
“Mmmmm.”

“You want to blow up with helium till you float.”

“Mmmmmmmmmm.”

“And you want to float away till you pop, don’t you?”

“God, yes.”

“Well, I think you’ll get what you want, girl.’

There was a loud pop and the shards of broken condom rained down on them.

“What?”

Bobby grunted and strained upward, his cock spasming wildly, and Sarah felt his twitching erection within herself.

When he got his breath back he said, “My cum has that affect on all the girls,” and indicated the condom remnants.

Sarah felt her breasts beginning to swell, curves rising to meet her chin, disregarding gravity as much as her butt cheeks, which struggled to lift her from Bobby’s crotch.

“Looks like we’ve got a new freak for Simon to bring the punters in with,” he said, grinning and playing with her distending curves.

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