Truth Serum

By Lord Balloony-cat Inflated



This story is © by Lord Balloony-cat Inflated as of 2/3/04. You (the reader) may redistribute it as you please as long as the following conditions are met:

1)      Lord Balloony-cat Inflated gets 80% of any profits made from said redistribution.

2)      Lord Balloony-cat Inflated is credited as the author.

3)      The text is unaltered, and exactly matches Lord Balloony-cat Inflated’s master copy.


A special thanks goes out to the people who helped me edit these stories.


Enough legal mumbo jumbo; on with the show:


            Light; light was shining through her puffy eyelids, waking the tigress from her uneasy sleep. Carefully, she cracked one bloodshot eye open and tried to see what was going on without letting her captors know that she was awake.

            It was no use; the light was shining almost directly at her, which was strange, because usually, when they came to torture her, they used the overheads. It was almost as if they wanted to look at her without waking her. Puzzled and concerned, she closed her eye again and concentrated on what she could hear and smell.

            The first thing she detected was the odor of her jailor/chief interrogator, not an especially vile-smelling mouse, but she hated him so much that she had to use all her training to keep from wrinkling her nose as his scent wafted toward her. The little rodent wasn’t alone out there; the tigress could smell the strong musk of a female skunk, and someone else. He or she was difficult to identify, because the scent was faded with age and buried in a cloud of cloying fragrance. Concentrating, the tigress twitched, moaned, and snorted, as if in the throws of a nightmare, and as her nostrils flared, she managed to strain the scent of an ancient male jackal out of the noxious miasma of his cologne. Who the hell was he?

            “This is the one?” the voice was soft and deep and melodious. After the interrogator’s high, whiny tones, this voice soothed her ragged ears like a salve soothes a burn. It must, she thought, belong to the jackal, and she found herself wishing she could have met it under better circumstances. A girl could fall in love with a voice like that.

            The interrogator was talking, and she could almost feel the other two wince as his thin, nasal voice hit their ears like broken glass. “Yes, this is the one. A most difficult and resilient spy, she’s resisted every form of physical and psychological torture the State can devise,”

            “She looks familiar,” the jackal said thoughtfully. “Ginger, you have her file?” Ginger, who was obviously the skunk, must have handed the file to him, because the tigress could hear pages turning, and the jackal was making thoughtful sounds. He spoke the enemy’s language perfectly, but with a strange accent she couldn’t place that made him soften his soft G’s and roll his R’s.

            “Nothing here,” the jackal said at last, “and yet, I feel as though I’ve met her before. It’s uncanny”

            “Irrelevant,” the interrogator snapped. “The important thing is whether or not you can get her to talk. The State is still rather dubious about your methods”

            “Really, general Poshkin-”

            “Don’t use my name!” the mouse interrupted in a horse whisper.

            There was silence, a silence that the tigress felt was filled with the jackal’s amusement.

            “My apologies, general; I forgot that her ghost could seek vengeance if it knew your name”

            “That’s ancient superstition and subversive nonsense,” the mouse snapped. “The State does not recognize such hocus pocus. Not revealing my name was simply part of a mind game”

            “Of course it was,” the jackal said, and the tigress could hear in his voice the smile he was trying to restrain. “But as I was about to say, there is no reason to doubt me. I have helped you in the past”

            “Ah yes, the boy”

            “Indeed, General Poshkin

            Poshkin -too plain a name for such a vile monster, she thought- must have winced or something, because the jackal said “relax general, she is asleep. Besides, your State does not recognize such nonsense”

            There was a very uncomfortable silence, during which the tigress felt Poshkin searching for something to say. He never got the chance, because the jackal started speaking again. “You realize,” he said smoothly, “that it would have been much better to call me sooner. The boy was in good condition, and I could go to work right away. This girl will need time and a place to rest before I can...treat her”

            “Ridiculous,” the rodent sputtered. “This is a prison for dissidents and spies, not a health spa”

            “One might think differently from your quarters,” the skunk said softly. Her voice was like the jackal’s, soft, smooth and marked by the same strange accent. It was almost as if she was merely an extension of him, and he was speaking from her mouth.

            “Ginger makes an excellent point, general. In fact, I’m amazed that even a high ranking official like yourself is allowed such lavish surroundings. Doesn’t the State frown on such decadence?” The tigress could smell the little rat sweating and fought to keep from smiling. This jackal might be a mercenary and a torturer, but she couldn’t help liking his style.

            “Bastard,” the rodent said softly.

            “What was that, general? I couldn’t quite catch it,” now the jackal was definitely smiling, probably a very toothy smile, too.

            The general gulped, then said “I was just saying that my quarters would be perfect”

            “Treatment?” the jackal offered helpfully.

            “Yes, yes” the rodent agreed quickly.

            “Excellent,” the jackal said softly. Then, in a much louder voice, he called “Wake up, my dear. The gen-er the interrogator has been kind enough to transfer you to my care”

            The tigress lay still for a moment, then made a show of having just woken from sleep, yawning and blinking and moving sluggishly. Of course, it was all crap, as was her wince at the activation of the overheads. If she had really been wakened suddenly, she would have snapped alert, ready for any chance for escape. However, it might pay to have her new master underestimate her.

            “Wake up, sleepy head,” the skunk said kindly, again acting like a second voice for the jackal. “It’s time to go. I will unlock the cage, and you will come quietly, yes?”

            The tigress nodded meekly. Though less weak than she pretended to be, she was no match for three people and who knew how many hidden guards. Resistance would be pointless.

            The skunk unlocked the cell with a key provided by the rodent, and slowly, mindful of her many injuries, the tigress shuffled out. As she passed the rodent, she felt the hunting instinct rise up in her as always. Her ancestors called to her to rend the prey, to slay the enemy, but she resisted, reminding herself that she was playing the broken invalid here.

            “You poor thing,” the jackal said, his long face filling with what seemed like genuine concern. He frowned deeply as he took in her crooked leg, the scars on her limbs, belly, and head, and the many kinks in her tail. He reached out toward, but did not quite touch, the ragged stump of her left ear, for which she was grateful.

            “Ginger,” he said, you’d better carry her. That is,” he said turning to the tigress, “if that’s alright with you, my dear” She nodded, and the skunk gently lifted her off the floor, cradling her as easily as if she were an infant.

            “Go on ahead, Ginger, I’ll be with you shortly”

            As Ginger moved away, the tigress could faintly hear the jackal and the rodent still discussing her.

            “How long before you can begin?” the rodent hissed.

            “The damage is even more extensive than I thought. The young lady must be made comfortable with pleasure again before I can begin” he said something else, but just then, Ginger passed around a corner and the rest was lost to hearing.


            The tigress was naked, walking down a hallway in the castle.  All of her injuries had been healed and she was free to go, but first, she wanted to find the jackal to thank him for his help. Following his scent, she came to a set of ornately carved oaken doors, and with an effort, she pushed them open.

            The jackal was inside, standing before her on the other side of some sort of control panel. Forgetting for a moment her need to thank the jackal, the tigress stepped closer to the strange control, wanting to see what it was.

            At that moment, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye, and she sensed Ginger behind her, but before she could turn, she felt something rubbery and cool being inserted into her sex. Looking down, she could see a hose running out of her, and she moved to pull it free, but the skunk gently stayed her hand.

            “Relax, my dear,” the jackal said. “It’s just a hose. It won’t bite you. You have to be connected for the machine to work. Why don’t you come closer and have a look at the control”

            The hose felt very strange stuck inside her like that, but she let it be for the moment and examined the device. Up close, it looked like a gigantic version of an electric train consol, with a large dial/lever that had a sweep arm attached to it. There was a semicircular label under the sweep arm, just like a train control, but instead of speeds, there were curved arrows pointing left and right. Above one arrow was the word ‘Inflate’. ‘Deflate’ was above the other arrow.

            “Try ‘inflate’, dear” the jackal suggested.

            Curious, the tigress reached out and turned the dial in that direction. Then she gasped in surprise, for the hose in her yoni had started to jiggle. Air or gas was running through it; she could feel it flowing coolly over the inside of her love tunnel. A moment later, a tightness began to grow in her belly, as if she were slowly coming to the end of a very large meal, and looking down she saw that her furry tummy was starting to bulge outward bit by bit.

            Amazement crossed her face, and she ran her hand over her swelling self in wonder, but she barely had time to ponder this transformation before the most delicious sensations of fullness, contentment, and raw pleasure flowed over her. She creamed herself instantly, drooling sex nectar into the hose as it continued to fill her, and the jackal smiled indulgently.

            “Now try ‘deflate’,” he suggested. She didn’t want to; she was still exploring the pleasures of ‘inflate’, but curiosity compelled her, and she turned the dial the other way.

            Instantly, she put her hand to her belly and moaned as it shrank, feeling a terrible sense of emptiness and loss. Quickly she reached to turn the dial back to ‘inflate’, but both ‘inflate’ and ‘deflate’ were gone. The former had been replaced by the word ‘TRUTH’ and the latter by the word ‘LIES’.

            Wondering on some level what the hell was going on, the tigress desperately turned the dial to ‘TRUTH’, sighing as she began to swell again.

            “That’s it my dear,” the jackal said softly, “tell us the truth. Tell us all of the truth”

            With a thrill of horror, the tigress realized that she was giving away important military secrets as she bloated, and she reached to turn the dial back to ‘LIES’, only to find that she couldn’t bare to move it. At this, the room filled with the jackal’s cold laughter.


            “Do you like it, dear? It was the general’s bed”

            The tigress emerged slowly from the whirling fragments of her dream to find herself lying near the right edge of a truly gigantic bed with silken sheets. There was an IV in her right arm, a catheter in her urethra, and the jackal was leaning over her with concern in his face.

            She shifted slightly, gathering herself for a reply, and then stopped. The feel of silk sliding over her fur had drawn her attention to her body, and she was amazed by the way it felt. The pain was completely gone, down to the last twinge and ache, and though she still felt weak, she was nowhere near as bad off as she had been.

            Seeming to know her mind, the jackal helped her to sit up and pulled back the covers with a flourish. She was naked underneath them, but nudity had long ago ceased to bother her. In any case, she was hardly aware of the jackal as she stared down at a body that appeared to be almost completely healed. Her leg had been broken and reset at some point, as had the many kinks in her long, striped tail. Whitish fur was growing up out of the scars where her old injuries had been, and even her ears had been somehow repaired.

            “Voila,” the jackal said, as she continued to stare. “What do you think of my work?”

            “Your-your work?” she stammered, unable to believe what this implied. “How long was I unconscious?”

            “Several days,” he said, sounding slightly embarrassed, “I usually work faster-broken bones are a trifle, you see, but the charms for healing felid ears have always been hard for me. Still,” and he gently scratched her ears, “I think my mother would have been proud of my work,”

            Her head instinctively wanted to press into his hand, and she let it. It gave her time to assimilate what he had just said. For a moment, she toyed with the idea that he was mad or lying to her. Maybe she had really been out for weeks.

            Then she realized that even a hundred years of sleep would not heal an ear that had been ripped off; even if he was lying about the time, there was something else going on here...something like-

            “Magic,” she said, pulling away slightly. She was vaguely embarrassed to find that she had been purring automatically. “It’s like magic,”

            “Correction,” said the skunk, following a faint cloud of her musky odor into the room, “it is magic. Master is a miracle worker. You will join us for dinner, yes?”

            At the sound of the word dinner, the tigress’s stomach gave a loud growl, and she realized how terribly hungry she was. Somehow, while she had been healing, the signs of her long emaciation had also been erased. Her stomach was no longer caving in toward her backbone, and her breasts had returned to their former fullness. However, at the mention of food, she suddenly felt like all those days of famine had come back to haunt her.

            The jackal chuckled and gently helped her out of bed, while the skunk draped a robe over her shoulders to ward off the chill. Then, as she was still unsteady on her feet, her healer lifted her carefully into his arms and carried her off to the table, where she was pleasantly amazed to find a large, bloody hunk of fresh zebra on her plate.

            Dinner consisted mostly of ripping sounds, gulping, and occasional loud belches as the tigress struggled to bolt down the huge feast before her. The jackal and the skunk, though markedly less animalistic in their outlook and habits, seemed unoffended by their companion’s eating noises, and in between gulps and belches, the tigress managed to slip in a question or two, namely about the jackal and how he had done what he did.

            “Magic, plain and simple,” he said. “My mother taught it to me,”

            Yo muvu? Ve ih he oo ih?” the tigress said through a mouthful of meat.

            “It’s not necessary to eat quite so quickly, dear. As for where my mother learned it, I come from a long line of healers. The magic gift runs in the family. My mother always wanted me to go out into the world and bring the healing art to others, but I chose this path instead. Of course, I left her a score of grandchildren to work with, but I don’t think she ever forgave me. Sometimes it vexes me to imagine what she would think were she still alive and here to see the use to which I put the gift.”

            Veh wa oo ih?”

            The jackal seemed slightly annoyed at being addressed around another mouthful, but then his face cleared and he sighed. “There is a good reason, but now is not the time to tell it, I think. If you are finished, I think it is time you got some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a very big day,” and he chuckled strangely.

            The tigress stopped smiling, reminded forcefully that the fur sitting beside her was a professional torturer who was preparing to ply his trade on her. Suddenly, she didn’t feel nearly so good about having been miraculously healed and fleshed out; it felt like being fatted for slaughter, and at this thought, the load of zebra meat seemed to curdle in her guts.

            “I couldn’t possibly sleep after hearing something like that,”

            “Ah, but you will sleep,” he said, beginning to make rapid, complicated signs with his hands, signs she somehow found it impossible to look away from. “If you didn’t sleep, it would spoil the surprise,” he said, signing faster and faster as her ears, eyelids, and tail began to droop. A moment later, he made a violent gesture as though shoving something toward her. Her eyes rolled up in her head and, like a puppet with cut strings, she fell face down into the remains of her food.


            When the tigress woke up, she found herself naked and roped to the ceiling and the floor by her wrists and ankles. Even before she opened her eyes, she could smell the musk of the skunk. Raising her head, she saw that she was in a small stone room with one door, two chairs and a table. The table, she noticed, had a syringe full of some pink liquid. Obviously, she thought, the questioning would begin again now, and she wondered what part the syringe would play.

            “Comfy?” the skunk asked mockingly, coming around from behind her.

            She spat, but missed, and the mustilid stifled a laugh.

            “Manners, my dears, manners” the jackal said softly, having just slipped back into the room.

            “It won’t work, you know” the tigress said, smiling nastily. “You saw what the general did to me, and I never even told him my name. You may as well give up now,”

            “I’m sure you would like that, my dear, not least of all because the general would have me shot for such an expensive failure,” he said down in the chair in front of her and picked up the syringe, toying with it as he spoke.

            “It must get very tedious for you,” he said, not looking at her, “every day pain and drugs and questions. I think I would have told them something just to relieve the boredom,”

            He looked up then, as though expecting her to volunteer something. She gave it to him. After he wiped it out of his eye, he continued.

            “Your aim is improving,” he said, unperturbed. “I expect you to resist. In fact, I would have been disappointed if you hadn’t. It’s been so long since I’ve used this, you see,” and he held up the syringe so it caught the harsh light from the overheads.

            “Drugs?” she asked, almost laughing. “Is that all you’ve got? I eat truth serums for breakfast,”

            The skunk made a furious hissing noise, but the jackal only chuckled. “Not this one, my dear. Other serums, yes. They work by lowering your inhibitions, and the trained mind can resist them. This one, however, works by...well, perhaps I should just show you. Ginger,” he called, and placed the serum in her hand, “if you would be so kind as to administer the dosage, wherever you like,”

            Smiling maliciously, the skunk pulled the cap off the needle and approached the tigress, who tried to struggle, but found she was too tightly bound to move much.

            “If you struggle, it will only hurt more,” the skunk said softly, bending down. The tigress felt her sex being spread open, and realized what was about to happen, but before she could react, the needle went through her hood and into her clitoris.

            She clenched her teeth against the pain, trying not to cry out as she felt the needle slide in. For a moment, there was coolness, and an awful swelling as the fluid was injected. Then suddenly, there was warmth. As the skunk withdrew, the tigress was confused to feel herself getting wet and yiffy down below, while the warmth spread outward through her body. When it reached her head, it stopped, leaving her slightly dizzy.

            “Was that all?” she asked.

            “Oh, no,” the jackal said, smiling a smile not unlike the skunk’s. “That was only the beginning. Now, if you would please, tell me your name,”

            She snarled at him.

            “Please, there is no need to be childish. A name is such a small thing,”

            “Why don’t you just get on with the torture?”

            “Ah, but there is no torture. That is not the way I work. Now please, your name. Or if not that, then your age. Any small truth will do,”

            “Alright, I’ll tell you something,” she said, and she leaned forward conspiratorially. “You’re a fucking weirdo!”

            Then she gasped and jerked her bound arm, trying to bring her hand into contact with the tightness she had just felt in her stomach. Looking down at herself, she thought she could see a gentle curve to her form that had not been there before, and she felt full and content, like she had just swallowed a large piece of warm meat.

            Chuckling, the jackal poked her gently in the tummy, which turned out to be surprisingly yielding.

            “So it begins,” he said. “You believe I am a ‘fucking weirdo’, so it counts as truth. Now tell me your name,”

            Rumplestiltskin,” she said flippantly. Then she groaned and tried again to clutch at herself. The wonderful fullness was draining away, and she could see the gentle curve receding. A terrible emptiness was welling up within her, and she suddenly realized it was because she had lied.

            Seeming to read her mind, the jackal laughed again. “It’s just like the dream isn’t it?”

            “Yes, it is,” she said without thinking, and immediately began to feel tight and full again. Before her eyes, the curve returned and swelled slightly beyond its former size. A thrill ran through her, for this...whatever-it-was was also doing something to her sex.

            “Don’t look so surprised. I gave you that dream. A sort of sneak preview of things to come. Now, you’re name, please”

            Meph-mephistopheles,” she said, and immediately regretted it. The feeling was dying out in her loins, and the fullness was ebbing away again. It was crazy, but she felt awful watching herself shrink like that. Quickly, before she could go entirely flat again, she uttered her real name.

            “That’s better,” the jackal said, as the tigress’s waistline began to explore new reaches. She was still not really fat, but she was decidedly paunchy now, and the pressure inside her was doing wonderful things down below.

            The jackal pulled a small tape recorder from his pocket and flipped it on.

            “You’re full name, for the record,” he said, smiling softly.

            She hesitated for a moment, started to say a lie, then quickly spoke the truth as she began to deflate again. The pressure redoubled instantly, accompanied by a mixture of relief and horror.

            “Wait,” the jackal said, stopping the tape. “I know that name from somewhere,” he stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Quickly, my dear, your age,”

            Another lie slimmed her down, and the truth fattened her up again, adding a few more inches to her previous girth as it did so. With horror that overshadowed the pleasure, she realized that she was getting bigger with each truth, and the bigger she got, the more awful it became to shrink again. It was getting easier to tell the truth and harder to lie!

            The jackal seemed not to notice her expression of dismay; he was too busy thinking.

            “Did you have...a big brother,” he asked, regarding her with his head cocked on one side.

            Her ears laid back as the old feelings washed over her. What the hell did he know about her brother?

            “You did have a brother,” he said triumphantly. “I can see and smell the family resemblance.”

            She was further shocked.

            “Yes, I knew him: fresh out of training, so young and strong. So eager to serve his country. After I...processed him, he begged for death, out of shame, I think,”

            “BASTARD!” she said, snapping at him and trying uselessly to free her claws so she could tear him to shreds.

            The skunk stiffened, but the jackal only smiled.

            “I see it all now,” he said, smiling as one who has just solved a clever puzzle.

            “Big brother goes off to serve his country, disappears, and is branded a traitor when certain secrets fall into enemy hands. Then who should come looking for him but...” and he gestured grandly at his bloated victim, “...little sister,”

            “Aw, how sweet,” the skunk said, running her hands over the tigress in mock affection. “Did you come to clear big brother’s name?” She tried to scratch the female under the chin, but was repelled by vicious snapping jaws. Unfazed, the skunk swished her tail across the tigress’s swollen middle and laughed.

            “What a delightful coincidence that you too should fall into my hands,” the jackal said softly. “It will be very poetic to break both siblings. A pity your parents cannot join in the fun. Perhaps they are already dead?”

            She thrashed and swore at him, which only made him laugh harder.

            “Now,” he said, turning the tape recorder back on, “tell me which organization you work for, and admit you are a secret agent,”

            She tried to lie, but it was useless. He could see the falsehood in her shrinking figure, and anyway, the emptiness was agony; it was hell on earth. She told him the truth, and purred as she inflated to a new and larger size.

            “I already knew the answers, of course, but it was a formality forced on me by the general. Forgive me, my little balloon,” and he ran a hand over her belly, which was sticking out almost eight inches now. She looked like she had swallowed a basketball.

            “I’m not your balloon, you freak,” she spat.

            “Ah, but you will be soon. As you have no doubt observed, each truth makes you bigger, and each lie becomes more unpleasant. Pleasure is so much harder to resist than pain. By the end, I didn’t even have to ask your brother questions. He told and told and told, anything to keep getting bigger. He almost filled the room at the end, before I stopped him,”

            “Monster!” she cried, then stopped, thinking hard. If she was going to be honest with herself, cracking her would only be a matter of time. The pressure felt warm and cozy within her, and the gas, or whatever it was inside her, was stretching her yoni, making it deliciously sensitive. As crazy as it was, she couldn’t resist the craving for more inflation, and this meant that she couldn’t resists telling truths. However, she had suddenly realized something, and that, coupled with what he had just said, had given her a plan. She would most likely be killed, but at least she could die with her secrets in tact, and she might even take this bastard with her.

            “Two times two is four,” she muttered, and gasped as her belly got a little bigger.

            “What was that?” the jackal asked looking puzzled and suspicious.

            “I said two times two is four,” she said, and immediately, she expanded outward almost bumping the jackal’s nose with her swelling tummy.

            “Stop that,” he said, beginning to look worried.

            But the pressure felt wonderful inside her, and once she realized that any truth could make her bigger, there was no going back. As if her mouth had a life of its own, it began spewing forth trivial truths. Among other things, she heard herself saying the alphabet and the multiplication table, each step of which pumped her up a little more. She was blowing herself up like a furry balloon, knocking over the table and the chairs as she rapidly expanded, and as her belly grew and grew, the swelling began  to creep up her arms and down her legs.

            “Stop this, I command it!” the jackal cried, then, “Ginger, quickly, punish her!” but whatever Ginger intended, she never got to do it.  The tigress was inflating in all directions, fattening swiftly as her pressure went up and up and up. She sensed Ginger near her, felt a brief touch of metal that might have been a shock prod, and then her enormous balloon of a belly was knocking the skunk over as it swelled and swelled.

            Bigger, bigger, blow me up, she thought, lost in the ecstasy of being stuffed full of more and more gas. At some point, she was dimly aware that her yoni was clenching in orgasm, but the pleasure of it was lost amid the greater feeling of being blown up.

            If she could have seen herself, the tigress would have seen that she was quickly ballooning into a big orange ball, the sphere of her belly eating her arms and legs as it grew fat off the truths she was telling. The jackal could see this. He could also see Ginger trapped underneath the swelling sphere, and knew that if he didn’t act quickly, the same thing would happen to him. Turning from the bloating tigress, he made for the door and tried to wrench it open, but the prison was old, and the door was stuck. Before he could escape, he felt warm, soft fur pressing against his back. He had time to turn around, and then the squishy sphere pinned him against the wall.

            The jackal’s thrashings brought the tigress part way out of her trance, and she smiled at him across the vast, vast curve of her swollen tummy. She could feel every inch of his body as her belly pressed against it, and little more than his head and neck were visible over its tightly inflated bulk.

            The jackal could barely move, and he was struggling for every breath, trying desperately to expand his ancient lungs between the cold stone and the warm, soft tigress tummy. He looked at her pleadingly as he gasped and choked, fighting for enough air to beg for his life.

            At last, he managed to say “My...dear...please...don’t...I...”

            The tigress smiled, a smile that was not unlike the jackal’s own.

            “,” she said slowly and clearly, and purred as she felt herself expand just a few more feet. One of the jackal’s withered hands managed to claw its way up over the expanse of swollen fur that had pinned him. It thrashed weakly for almost a minute, then went limp.

            “ your back...bro,” she said weakly, then sank back into her truth telling trance, pumping herself up larger and large and larger. Her belly was deforming as it pressed against the walls and the floor, and she could feel the furniture digging painfully into her as she slowly crushed it. She wondered in some dark corner of her mind whether she would crush herself to death or simply explode. Then everything became a blur of swelling and stretching for a while, and after that, she passed out.


            The tigress awoke later on to feel a gentle breeze blowing against her enormous body and the sun warming her swollen sides. She was absolutely huge, a black and orange blimp towering over a hundred feet above the rubble of what must have once been her prison. She felt incredibly full and warm, like she had just eaten a huge meal, and she was about to drift off to sleep when the breeze shifted her body a little.

            She had one second to realize her super-sensitive yoni was rubbing against the floor before a gigantic orgasm rolled through her, seeming to last forever as it traveled the entire expanse of her blimpish self. It was incapacitating while it was happening, but in the aftermath, she found her wits sharpened somewhat, like getting a swift kick in the tail. She couldn’t remember anything after crushing the jackal, but judging from the rubble, she had just inflated her way to freedom, neatly killing her jailers at the same time.

            They’ll never believe this at central intelligence, she thought, and that led to thoughts of flight from this country. She tried to waddle on her tiny feet, which produced another orgasm, but was otherwise useless. If she wanted to escape, she realized, she was going to have to deflate herself down.

            Taking a deep breath, she said “my name is Rumplestiltskin” Immediately, she felt the horrible loosening as air began to leak out of her. She tried to ride it out, but broke part way through and blurted out “the sky is blue!”

            Sighing as she blew back up, she tried another lie, with the same result. It was no good. She was just going to have to wait and hope that she would deflate when the drug wore off. In the mean time...she rubbed her yoni against the stone again and relished the powerful orgasm that rolled through her flesh.




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