apr 8th 2025
"Hi... I have an appointment at 13:35."
"What's your last name?"
She fidgeted uncomfortably. "Ravenscroft."
"Ah, here you are." The receptionist smiled, their fingertips sliding over the tactile display, and leaned back into a chair clearly designed for someone much bigger. "Enola should be out shortly."
"Thankee sai." She slipped silently into the nearest chair, fingers tap-tapping on the whistle she wore around her neck. The trip over had been much noisier than usual, and she again considered herself fortunate that the receptionist at this clinic didn't try to force eye contact. Tap-tap on the whistle, her fingertips making a tiny, hollow noise against the borosilicate glass.
After nearly a minute of waiting, the door at the far end of the waiting room swung open, and a slightly dazed-looking, goateed man walked out. He was wearing a plush bathrobe, and carrying a mesh bag full of street clothes; behind him walked a tall, slender woman in a sand-blue pantsuit, a clear cannula running from her nose to the tiny oxygen concentrator in her hip pocket.
"I'll let you go to the washroom and get dressed," she told him quietly, "then Mander can get your next appointment set up. You gonna be okay to ride the tube home?"
The robed man nodded. "Just need a minute to... catch my breath. Thanks, Enola."
As he stumbled into the washroom and closed the door behind him, Enola smiled warmly at her next patient. "Afternoon, Connie. How are you doing?"
Constance Ravenscroft shrugged her bony shoulders as she rose, one hand still fidgeting with the whistle around her neck. Tap-tap-tap. Enola knew better than to press for small talk, and simply led her to Room G1. After the door was closed, the rubber gasket around the frame hissing quietly, Connie removed her purse and shawl, hanging them on two of three hooks mounted to the door.
Removing her shoes, Enola stood by the nearby wall. "Is there any particular issue or concern you want to focus on for today's session?"
Connie shook her head, unbuttoning her frilly blouse. She had recently applied to have one of her art pieces shown in a gallery, but she felt it would be better to take her mind off it entirely.
"All right. Any music or background noise you'd like?"
"Singing bowls would be nice." She removed the whistle from her neck, and slipped a largish red ring around one finger.
Enola smiled, and pressed a small switch on the wall, turning the volume knob to its quietest setting. Faintly, the low-frequency hum of a bronze rin began to sound. Another, deeper one soon joined it, the tones resonating through the room.
Now dressed only in her wrapped underskirt, Connie stepped to the exact center of the counseling room. A square mattress lay on the floor, and she laid back on it, looking up at the vaulted ceiling. She carefully rubbed the ring with her thumb, making sure it was there; should an emergency arise, she needed only press the button to set off a loud buzzer. It was needed not only because of her usual inability to scream or shout, but because the later stage of the session might make even normal speech difficult.
Her therapist walked up to her, a small nebulizer in one hand. "Are you ready to get started?" After a nod from Connie, she pressed the mask of the nebulizer around the patient's nose and mouth. She squeezed the trigger, sending a puff of bluish vapor into the mask; Connie took a deep breath, and held it in for five seconds. Feeling the telltale tingling in the pit of her stomach, she nodded again.
Enola slipped the nebulizer into her other pocket, and began reciting the agreed-upon script that opened every session. "I'd like you to close your eyes, and take a deep breath. Hold it in for a few seconds... and as you slowly exhale, I want you to release all the tension in your muscles."
Connie's chest and belly rose as she filled her lungs, then fell as she emptied them... though not quite to their original concave shape. The xenon gas flowing into the room served as a mild anesthetic; the fact that it was heavier than air was also important for the later phase of the session.
Now, breathe in again... hold that breath in... and now slowly let it out, and relax your muscles."
Her ribs flexed with each inhalation, then relaxed as she exhaled... but her belly was very slightly rounder, her chest fuller, as her lungs emptied again.
"And in again... deeply, deeply... hold it in... and out again, and relax."
The rhythmic deep breathing, along with the sound of the singing bowls, put Connie into an almost meditative state. Her body was all but asleep, her limbs heavy and slightly numb from the xenon; but her mind remained awake.
And with every breath, her body filled, her dry skin stretching as she swelled. Any outside observer would have guessed she was heavily pregnant, with her swollen breasts and rounded belly contrasting sharply against her otherwise gaunt frame.
"Keep breathing," came Enola's voice again, "deep and steady. As you breathe in, feel yourself growing... and as you breathe out, feel yourself relax."
Though indeed completely relaxed, Connie could feel her hips straining against the soft fabric of her underskirt as the swelling spread beyond her breasts and belly.
"For the next hour, you don't have to worry about anything. All your anxieties, all your worries and cares, all your responsibilities... they're all far, far away." Enola's voice was clear, slow, but focused. "You don't have to think about anything you don't want to. You don't have to think about anything at all. For the next hour, you're just a balloon... and all you have to do, is grow... bigger..."
Dimly, Connie felt a slow trickle of drool from the corner of her mouth; but she knew it didn't matter.
All you have to do, is grow... bigger... bigger..."
With her eyes closed, Connie couldn't be sure, but it definitely felt like her growth was accelerating. She lazily wiggled her fingers and toes, which felt thicker and less dexterous than usual.
"Bigger..."
Her underskirt finally came loose, the sudden release of tension causing her waist and hips to bulge outward. The motion set her bouncing slightly, lazily bobbing up, and then drifting down. Her stomach, wherever it currently was, lurched slightly as she landed back on the mattress.
"Bigger..."
Connie felt another gentle lurching sensation, as she began tipping to one side, like an unbalanced beach ball. The fact that she was filled tightly enough to start rolling meant that she was almost completely spherical now.
"Bigger..."
Her eyelids opened halfway, drowsily. She could only barely see her inflated body, her skin arcing away from her over a horizon of flesh - as though her body was a small planet, too large to see in its entirety from so close.
Enola walked around to her left side, stocking feet rubbing quietly against the carpet. She gently took hold of Connie's hand. The gesture would have made her recoil at her normal size, but for whatever reason, it didn't bother her when she was ballooned. Besides, with her cheeks puffed out to the size of baseballs, this was the easiest way to communicate.
"Do you want me to lift you, so you can float? Squeeze my hand twice for yes, once for no."
Connie did her best to flex her sausage-like fingers. Squeeze-squeeze. With a nod and a gentle smile, Enola gripped her patient's hand more firmly, and began flexing her radialis muscles. Slowly, gradually, the inflated girl began to leave the ground.
The vapor filling her body wasn't light enough to make her float on her own; not even pure hydrogen was thin enough to do that, not under standard temperature and pressure. But in combination with the heavy xenon gas in the room's atmosphere, it was light enough to bring her to neutral buoyancy. And so she hung in the air, motionless but for the slow rotation set off by the little bit of inertia from being lifted by one hand.
"You're just a balloon..." Enola's voice seemed to be coming from far away. "And all you have to do now, is float..."
The pressure inside her was immense, but it felt comforting rather than constricting - like a full-body hug from the inside.
"Float..."
Every time an anxious thought started to bubble up, her subconscious lulled her back into laziness, into relaxation. Shh, shhh... no need to think about that now... just be a balloon.
"Float..."
Balloons don't have to worry. Balloons don't have anything to worry about. You wanna be a good balloon, don't you?
"Float..."
Her mind drifted as freely as her body, freed from worry and responsibility; drifted, in and out of sleep.
Finally, much sooner than she would have liked, she felt a gentle pressure on her left side - the soft, slightly plush texture of the little mattress - and knew her hour was almost up.
"Can you hear me, Connie?"
She nodded slowly. The fact that she could nod her head was a sure sign that the vapor was starting to wear off.
"So our time here today is almost up." Enola's voice came through much clearer now, even through the haze of the anesthetic gas. "I want you to close your eyes again, and take a deep breath. Hold it in for a few seconds... and as you slowly exhale, I want you to feel yourself deflating."
Connie could indeed feel herself getting smaller, to her dismay. But in the anesthetic haze, she didn't mind so much; it was a very mild disappointment, like the ice-cream machine being out of strawberry.
"Keep breathing," came Enola's voice again, "deep and steady. As you breathe in, feel yourself relaxing... and as you breathe out, feel yourself getting smaller."
She didn't particularly enjoy this part of the session, but she did her best to relax and not get upset. Thankfully, the gas made it easier.
"Smaller..."
As the swelling went down, leaving her merely puffy, Connie felt that she was laying on her right side, her arm raised above her head.
"And... done." Enola went over to the wall, and switched off the speaker; the singing bowls slowly faded into silence. The third hook on the door held a clean, plush bathrobe, which she removed as she started walking back over towards the mattress.
Connie lazily rose to a sitting position, allowing Enola to drape the open robe around her shoulders. Her arms slid easily into the oversized sleeves, and she tied the robe around herself as she got to her feet.
"You feeling okay, Connie?"
She nodded her head, taking a deep breath of the more ordinary atmosphere at this height.
Enola smiled, and went to the door. "You took the tube here, right? Are you gonna be okay to ride home?"
Connie nodded again as the door opened, the fans in the corners of the room sucking up the remaining xenon to filter and recycle.
"All right. Mander will help you schedule your next appointment, or you can just message them. Feel free to take your time getting dressed in the washroom.
"...Thank you, Enola." ■