Breast Inflation

After endless months of sexual tension between is, one thing is clear: we're both way too into the flirting to consummate things. So we talk instead. First, I hear you confess your fantasy to me. To your surprise, I then confess virtually the same wish in turn, for I too would like to be blown apart orgasmically. After all, what better end could there be?

No, it's definitely better this way. The only questions that remain for us involve the means and the timing. So we discuss.

Deep underground in a small tunnel, a red rubber woman paced impatiently in her confinement. Her name was Poke, a name she was never too proud of: it sounded too much like her specie’s name, the Pooka. She was your average young adult Pooka, red rubbery skin , a clean visor, an expert in all matters of pacing back and forth underground, and a tail-like stubby air nozzle squarely above her butt-cheeks. At a distance, one could mistake her for a human in an odd bodysuit. Poke was rather frustrated at the moment; she had to endure her ten hour shift in one of the watchtunnels today.