Gas III (Patreon)

Note: This is a story-prompt for Ryan Caday.

$20 Patreon Directory 

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Sandra found herself stuck in a continuous cycle of belching and farting. She set her phone alarm to wake her up every hour so that she could empty herself of as much gas as she could. She knew that it wasn’t practical. Having to constantly disrupt her sleep left her fatigued. By the morning, she still somehow had grown bigger, and she dragged herself through her pre-work routine, completely exhausted. She looked as though she was overdue with triplets.

Sandra could barely squeeze herself behind the steering wheel of her car, her round belly stretching out the largest maternity dress she owned. She looked ready to pop.

The plump DDs on her chest bobbed slightly as she awkwardly maneuvered herself around the office in her overly-tight dress. Her colleagues were gawking at her, as though trying to make sense of her growth. Worse, Sandra could still feel the gas steadily building, stretching her more. She needed release, and she needed it fast. She waddled into her office and quickly closed the door.

“Rrrrrrr…” A fart tore through her backside, her belly trembling as she tried to release the build-up. “Urrrp,” Sandra belched as she held her mound, feeling the pressure taper just the tiniest amount.

She eased herself down carefully on her desk chair with her overfull belly, allowing another large belch to burst up as the inflated mass pressed down on her lap.

She couldn’t believe how huge she was getting, how uncomfortably pressurized. Sandra reached down to organize some files on her desk top, her belly pressing into the edge, and causing her to belch again and again.

A dinging noise sounded from her cellphone. Sandra lifted it and saw that she had several text messages from Richard, her date the previous night.

She couldn’t believe that he was still trying to contact her after the—the display she had put on. She warmed at the thought of it, but then just felt more dismayed about her ever-increasing size.

Sandra tucked her phone into a drawer and began to go through her paperwork. Every some of she would remember to belch or fart, and found herself constantly shifting her hips, trying to get comfortable with the mass of gas trying to dominate her body.

She could practically see herself growing. She could feel her belly pushing outwards, stretching out her dress until the stitching strained and pulled apart.

She tried not to think about it, instead absorbing herself in the monotony of paperwork. She could hardly keep up with releasing the gas by then. Between the flush, the fatigue, and the mundaneness of work, Sandra began to doze off.

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There was a light tapping on the door.

Sandra gasped awake. She found herself slumped in her chair, her belly pressing hard into her desk, skin prickling, abdomen tense, and insides aching.

Breathlessly, she pulled back, and marveled at her size. She was beginning to look as though she had a beachball under her dress, the hem pulled up from her knees to high on her thighs. The material was beginning to tear in some parts. As her office door opened, Sandra quickly hunched forward and tried to hide the mass beneath the desk. She groaned as it trembled, her face red and sweaty. Her breasts were hugely engorged, nipples aching. She looked as though she was about to pop.

“You’ve been ignoring my calls.”

It was Richard. He worked on the floor above her office.

Sandra whimpered, and covered her mouth, struggling not to belch. Finally she managed to speak, “So you show up at my work place?” She tried to come off as indignant, but she suspected she just sounded desperate and disoriented, as she was.

Richard gave her a dubious look. “What’s going on with you?”

“Richard, this is my job. You…nrrhh…you have no right to barge in like this. I don’t even know why my secretary let you—” Her belly seemed to tighten a notch, mound squishing under the edge of the desk and causing her insides to churn. Sandra’s words were cut off by a monstrous belch, that proved a harbinger to several more. Even a fart tore out of her. She was mortified.

Sandra struggled to contain it all, but the gas seemed to build and build. “Richard you—urrrrrpp—you have to—burrrhh.” She desperately motioned for him to leave, even managing to heave herself up, causing the pressure to shift, and she didn’t know whether it was a good or bad thing.

All she knew was that Richard was now staring at her massive abdomen, the mound perfectly round and outgrowing her flanks, and he was looking strangely…enamoured.

“Get out!” Sandra finally managed to cry out, pointing at the exit, before she descended into more belches and farts.

Seeming to jolt out of her reverie, Richard gave her belly one last glance, then hurried off.