I’ve always been a long time lover of simple female full body inflation which is the first form (I.e. shrunken and bulged arms and legs with protruding hands and feet, slightly inflated breast), but something about the second form really turns me on even more.

Art by....ME!

Love is Bigger than you

Fully inflated body with arms bulged and somewhat submerged but still protruding from the inflated body only with legs completely sunken, leaving the feet protruding. if you ask me, is an full body form that gives you a win-win type of scenario. protruding arms still allow you to get a feel your inflated body, and your sunken feet allows you to feel the extreme fullness and pressure of your inflated body :D

inflated characters are from the new Mario game: Super Mario Wonder

From the skol ad. These two were the main highlight of the skol ads for me. This scene alone rewired my brain real hard and was the main trigger for my woman body inflation fetish awakening

I love Vernon’s reactions. Like he knows what’s coming next for Marge and he js preparing for her inevitable bloating.

Something recent from my twitter, thought I would share it here :3

Welch had never acclimated to his new blended family. Following his mother’s passing, his father’s hasty remarriage had surrendered the household dynamics entirely to his new stepmother, Sasha, and her equally demanding daughter. What was once a quiet sanctuary for a grieving father and son had transformed into a domain of constant critique. Sasha praised her own daughter’s every breath while micromanaging Welch’s existence. “Why is your coat on my hanger? Your cooking is sloppy. Why can’t you emulate your stepsister?” Initially, Welch bore the indignities with quiet resignation, but his patience was rapidly fraying.

At seventeen, Welch shouldered an immense burden of responsibility. He had practically managed the household to help his father cope with his grief—ironically, it was Welch who had suggested the dating app where his father met Sasha. He had hoped her arrival would alleviate his domestic duties. Instead, Sasha assumed the role of an imperious supervisor, treating Welch less like a son and more like household staff.

On a mild Friday evening, Welch’s father returned home from work earlier than usual. Instead of settling in for the dinner Welch had painstakingly prepared, his father bypassed the kitchen entirely, frantically rifling through the home office drawers.

“Dad?” Welch asked, hovering near the doorway. “Why the rush? Isn’t your workday over?”

His father sighed heavily, withdrawing a manila folder from the desk. “Son, I hate to spring this on you, but I’ve been called away for an emergency business trip this weekend. I need you to hold down the fort and look after Sasha and your sister.”

Welch blinked in disbelief. “Dad, I’ve had plans for weeks. I’m going to that music festival on the beach with my friends. Can’t they look after themselves?”

His father paused, his expression strained. “Welch, you know as well as I do that Sasha will cause a scene if I force her to alter her weekend. Besides, she’s hosting a brunch for her friends tomorrow morning. She gave me a grocery list and expects you to pick everything up.”

“She doesn't do anything around here, Dad,” Welch argued, his frustration boiling over. “And no matter how perfectly I follow her lists, she always finds an excuse to scream at me.”

His father stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on Welch’s shoulder. “Please, son. Do this one favor for me. When I get back, I promise I will buy you tickets to whatever festival or concert you want.”

Welch sighed, the fight draining out of him. He could never say no to the man who had weathered so much tragedy alongside him. “Fine. But I’m holding you to that promise.”

“Thank you,” his father smiled, slipping a folded piece of paper from his pocket. “Sasha’s brunch is at eleven tomorrow morning. She expects the living room styled with the lounge chairs and the central table. You’d better hit the store tonight to ensure you have everything. Love you, son.”

With a quick embrace, his father hurried out the garage door. The roar of his truck fading down the street left Welch alone with a sinking feeling—and a remarkably obscure shopping list.

Welch navigated the grocery store with practiced efficiency, checking off the items until he reached a glaring roadblock: an unfamiliar brand of artisanal cookies. The shelves were entirely stripped of the specified flavor. Loath to drive across town for a single item, Welch scoured the aisles until he spotted an employee maneuvering a restock cart near the stockroom doors.

“Excuse me!” Welch called out, jogging over. He immediately noticed the exact brand and flavor of the cookies resting on the bottom tier of the cart. “Perfect. I was looking for these. I’m glad you still have them in stock.”

The employee hesitated, glancing down at the pastel-colored tin. “Sir, I strongly recommend against purchasing those. They’ve been—”

“It’s fine,” Welch interrupted, his exhaustion making him sharp. “Even if they’re a little past their sell-by date, it doesn’t matter.”

“Sir, you don’t understand. I really think you should select another—”

“Look, man,” Welch snapped, immediately regretting his tone but unable to stop the words. “I don’t even want to be here. My stepmother demanded these specific cookies, and I just want to buy them, go home, and sleep. I don't care what's wrong with them. Let her and her friends gorge themselves tomorrow.”

The employee’s concerned expression faltered, slowly morphing into an unsettling, mischievous smirk. “Alright, man,” the clerk replied smoothly. “If you’re absolutely sure. Follow me to the register.”

Welch found the sudden shift in demeanor unnerving, but his desire to sleep easily outweighed his curiosity. He paid for the groceries and drove home.

His hopes of a quiet entry were immediately dashed. Sasha sat entrenched in the living room, waiting like a spider in a web. She demanded a full inventory of his purchases, meticulously picking apart his choices and ending her tirade with a sharp, demeaning threat.

“This brunch must be flawless,” she hissed, her dark eyes narrowed. “I will whip you into shape before you leave for college, boy. If everything isn't perfect tomorrow, I will call your father and personally ensure your little music festival is canceled.”

Welch clenched his jaw. He wanted to scream, but the argument wasn't worth the energy. He muttered a hollow apology, put the groceries away, and retreated to his room to collapse into an exhausted sleep.

Saturday morning was a chaotic blur. Welch barely managed to survive a grueling four-hour shift at the local nursing home, racing back to the house at breakneck speed. He burst through the front door at 10:50 AM, sprinting into the kitchen to plate the refreshments and arrange the living room exactly to Sasha’s exacting specifications.

He had just slid the mysterious tin of cookies into the center of the table when the front door swung open.

“I certainly hope I’m not early for my own gathering,” Sasha drawled, stepping into the foyer.

Behind her stood her two closest confidantes. Pim, draped in a bright yellow sundress that clashed terribly with her heavy jewelry, projected an air of wealthy entitlement. Tess, the next-door neighbor, wore a sharply tailored, dangerously tight vest and a pristine white blouse, her striking red lipstick completing a severe, authoritative look. Sasha herself was clad in a vibrant orange jumpsuit, secured tightly at the waist with a heavy sash.

“No, everything is ready for you,” Welch forced a polite smile, gesturing toward the spread.

Sasha critically surveyed the table. “Acceptable. Now, while we enjoy our refreshments, Pim’s washing machine is out of order. You will do her laundry.”

Pim giggled, dropping an overflowing laundry basket at Welch’s feet. Welch’s jaw tightened, but he silently picked up the heavy basket and retreated to the laundry room, resigning himself to the role of the household servant.

As he sorted the garments, the muffled sounds of the women’s gossip drifted down the hallway.

“Sasha, where did you find these cookies? They are absolutely divine,” Pim cooed. “I have to be careful, though. Carbs always go straight to my hips.”

“Britt posted about them on social media last week,” Sasha replied, her voice muffled by chewing.

“Didn't Britt suddenly stop posting right after that?” Tess chimed in, taking a delicate bite. “She vanished offline entirely. I should pace myself, too. Everything I eat goes straight to my chest, and this vest is tailored perfectly.”

In the laundry room, Welch pulled out his phone. The clerk’s warning echoed in his mind. He typed the brand name into the search engine. The first auto-fill suggestion chilled him: [Brand Name] Cookies - Alarming Side Effects & Recalls.

Before he could tap the link, a shrill voice echoed through the house. “Welch! Get in here immediately!”

Welch shoved his phone into his pocket and walked back into the living room. Sasha was glaring at the cookie tin, tapping her manicured nails against the armchair.

“Did you honestly think I wouldn’t notice?” Sasha demanded, holding up the empty plastic wrapper. “There is no expiration date printed on this batch. You are completely incompetent. Do you have any excuse for risking our health?”

Welch shrugged, feigning indifference. “I just grabbed the first tin on the shelf. Sorry.”

Sasha’s face darkened. “You careless little brat. Your father works tirelessly—even sacrificing his weekend for a business trip—and this is how you repay us? If this is the work ethic your mother instilled in you before she died, then she was an absolute failure of a parent.”

The air in the room went dead. Welch’s hands balled into fists, his knuckles turning white as an intense, blinding fury washed over him. He opened his mouth to retaliate, but a sudden, grotesque sound interrupted him.

Sasha gasped, her hands flying to her abdomen. A deep, resonant gurgling echoed from her stomach. Her expression of smug superiority melted into utter bewilderment.

Before Welch’s eyes, Sasha’s stomach began to distend. It didn't just grow; it forcefully ballooned outward, stretching the fabric of her orange jumpsuit with terrifying speed. The heavy sash tied around her waist groaned under the sudden tension before the knot violently gave way, the fabric snapping against the arms of her chair. Within seconds, her midsection had expanded to the size of a massive beach ball, pinning her back against the cushions.

“What is—” Tess began, but she was cut off by a wet, bubbling sound emanating from her own body.

Tess looked down in horror as her chest rapidly swelled. Her tailored vest, already clinging to her curves, stood no chance against the unnatural expansion. The bottom button snapped off like a bullet, ricocheting off the coffee table. Her bust surged outward and upward, growing frighteningly round and heavy. The middle and top buttons followed suit in rapid succession, tearing the vest open and straining the white blouse beneath it until the seams began to loudly unravel.

A terrified whimper drew their attention to Pim. She was gripping the armrests of her chair, her knuckles white. A deep, shifting pressure was radically altering her lower half. Her hips and thighs were expanding laterally, thickening with such immense force that they quickly bridged the gap to the armrests. As her lower body continued to swell into impossible, spherical proportions, she was physically lifted upward, her bright yellow dress tearing at the seams as her form spilled over the edges of the furniture.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!” Sasha shrieked, desperately clawing at her massive, inflated belly, which rippled like a waterbed under her touch.

Welch stared at the surreal nightmare unfolding in his living room. The sheer absurdity of the situation—combined with the venom Sasha had just spat at his mother’s memory—shattered his restraint. He began to laugh. It started as a chuckle and quickly escalated into full, breathless laughter.

“You think this is funny?!” Sasha screamed. “Tess! Get my phone! I am calling his father!”

Tess didn’t reach for the phone. Instead, she looked down at her ruined blouse and impossibly heavy chest. A strange, breathless smile crept across her face. She removed her glasses, tossing them onto the floor. “Actually,” Tess murmured, her voice strangely calm, “I think I need to go.”

Ignoring Sasha’s frantic screams, Tess unsteadily rose to her feet and stumbled out the front door, leaving her friends behind.

“Pim! Get the phones!” Sasha commanded, her voice cracking with panic.

Pim sobbed, looking down at her trapped form. Her lower body had expanded to such an absurd degree that she was completely wedged into the armchair. “How can I? I can’t move! And I only ate two of those things!” Pim’s eyes widened as she looked at Sasha. “Sasha... you ate six.”

A sudden, sharp hiss escaped Sasha’s lips. Her cheeks instantly bloated, her skin stretching taut. The gurgling sound returned, echoing not just from her stomach, but from her entire body. Her arms and legs began to swell, filling out the jumpsuit until the fabric began to tear in every direction. As Welch watched in morbid fascination, Sasha’s entire body lost its human proportions, expanding rapidly into a massive, perfectly round sphere of flesh and fabric, wedged hopelessly between the furniture. Her face was so swollen she could no longer speak, reduced to muffled, high-pitched squeals.

The sound of a heavy truck engine idling in the driveway cut through the chaos. Welch turned to the window. His father’s truck was parked outside.

The front door swung open. Welch’s father stepped into the foyer, his eyes glued to a document in his hands. “Sorry, Welch, I realized I forgot the quarterly—”

His voice died in his throat as he looked up.

He took in the sight of Pim, weeping and immobilized by her immense lower half. He then slowly turned his gaze to the center of the room, where his wife had been reduced to an impossibly large, spherical balloon, flailing her swollen limbs in a panic.

Welch braced himself for his father’s horror. He prepared to explain the cookies, the clerk, the terrible accident.

Instead, a profound silence settled over the room. Welch watched as his father’s initial shock melted away, replaced by an unsettling, wide-eyed, giddy smile. The look of a man who had just won the lottery.

“Welch,” his father said, his voice eerily calm as he began to unbutton his collar. “Take Pim to the hospital. You can use the heavy-duty lift in the garage to get her into your car.”

“Dad?” Welch asked, his stomach plummeting. “What about Sasha? What are you going to do?”

His father didn’t answer. He didn't even look at his son. He merely took a slow, deliberate step toward his fiercely inflated wife.

A chilling realization washed over Welch. His father wasn't horrified by this bizarre accident—he actually liked it!

Without another word, Welch grabbed the back of Pim’s chair, tilting it backward to wheel the terrified woman toward the garage, leaving his father alone with his new reality.

My choice is giving Sophia Lillis a booty the size of Khloe Kardashian's.