This is a gift for  Aygee featuring the always wonderful Belle the inflatable blue jay! I am a huge fan of Aygee's work. Wonderful style, great personality, creative character design. The works! I hope you like the story!

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Belle bobbed across her apartment. She was running late for her stream, and that frankly wouldn’t do. Her public was waiting for her, and if she left them hanging they might turn to someone else for their content fix. The shiny blue jay couldn’t have that, now could she? Despite the hurry, though, she couldn’t resist pausing to eye herself up in the full-length mirror on the back of her bedroom door. Her beak curved in a grin and she tipped her head up to admire her trademark ensemble. A tight little t-shirt, black with her logo in blue. It was snug enough to show off her curves but still tasteful enough to satisfy those pesky terms of service. The booty shorts, on the other hand, were a shade more scandalous as they strained to contain her pert behind. She licked her thumb and gave her eyebrow a squeaky swipe. The last check was always the nozzle nestled snugly in her midriff where a navel ought to be. As a pool toy, it paid to make sure it was secure. When all seemed to be in order, she gave her butt a slap, producing the pleasing *PONT* of a bouncing beachball.

“Show time,” she trilled.

She dropped lightly onto the couch and wriggled herself into a comfortable position. A few deft taps at the keyboard strategically stowed beside the couch brought up the webcam to make sure her fans got their Belle fix.

“Okay, chat,” she said, reaching up to adjust the light. “Belle has arrived!”

She tapped through her list of games while she waited for the viewers to get their notifications and hop on. It was one of her favorite parts of the nightly ritual, watching that little number tick up as her audience rushed to see what she was up to. Almost immediately she started to get super chats lining up to vie for her attention.

What, no swimsuit?

She smirked.

“Swimsuit stream was last week,” she flirtatiously fluttered her eyes. “But maybe if you hit up my wish list or donation link I might consider an encore.”

Butt Cam! Butt Cam! Butt Cam!

She glared at the camera.

“*FWIT* That was a one-time thing.” She quickly composed herself. “Come on, guys. I’m more than a dynamite bod. I’m a gamer with a dynamite bod. So, what are we playing today?”

The chat exploded with answers ranging from “spin the bottle” and “truth or dare” to “Call of Honor” and “Ultimate Smash Sisters.” As always, a handful got auto-modded but she could guess what they had in mind.

She bobbed in place, squeaking lightly against the couch. “Oh! Let’s do this one, I’ve been in the mood for a shooter.”

She fumbled her broad fingers across the keys until the game was ready to go.

“This one’s new and it’s supposed to be super tough. How much you wanna bet I’ll S-Rank the first level on my first try. Let’s get a poll up! The options are Yeah and Heck Yeah!”

The game started off easy enough. Standard first-person shooter. She had ample time to shoot the breeze with the chat while she was playing.

“Who saw that pic I posted this morning? It’s at two thousand likes and counting. You did all hit that heart, didn’t you? Come on, chat. Let me feel the love. Get me to 5k and I’ll give you all a treat!”

She took advantage of a break in the action to snag a bag from behind the couch.

“Guess who went shopping! Stay here after the game and I’ll be reviewing some new looks! You’re not gonna want to miss it so—”

An unexpected grenade sent her suddenly back to the loading screen. She felt a hot blush in her bright blue cheeks as the chat erupted in response.

“Okay, okay. Lucky shot. I just gotta get serious. You want to see a serious gamer?” She leaned forward and gave her fiercest look. “This is what a serious gamer looks like.”

She hit retry and cast a quick glance at the stream to make sure she was still on frame and looking cute. After some serious speedrun strats to get back to where she was, she blasted her way past the pesky enemy that killed her last time. A few quick headshots got her into their base, where she was immediately ambushed.

“What! *BEEP* That’s so cheap! *FWOOT* This game is bugged,” she trilled, fuming.

The chat started to scroll again, she hazarded a glance at the super chats.

She’s cute when she’s losing.

“I’m always heckin’ cute. I just… *TWIF* The AI is cheating.”

Anybody know any other streamers to watch?

Yeah, I was hoping to see level two.

A dozen other stream regulars came to her defense, but the words had hit their mark. The very idea that some one would leave her stream just as it was starting! Desperate times called for desperate measures.

“You know what, you know what? I know what the problem is. My fingers are slipping. I need a little more tension.”

She stood up and turned to kneel on the couch, flicking her tail feathers as rummaged through a box she’d stowed.

“Here!” she said, triumphantly revealing an air canister with a long hose.

The chat was filled with assorted emotes and emojis that suggested they really liked the view while her back was turned. She ignored them and waggled the hose.

“All I have to do is add a little air and I’ll be back at pro-gamer levels. Guaranteed.”

She stuck the hose in her beak, rather than risk opening her nozzle directly, and gave the valve a turn. The soft hiss of compressed air filled the room. She clutched her beak tight and tried to avoid the telltale grin as the air did its work. Her skin started to creak. Her thighs squeaked against each other and she felt the already tight fabric start to tighten about her chest and hips. The chat started to light up again as her already mouthwatering figure started its gentle climb toward an epic hourglass. The viewer count started to grow. She felt a flutter of pride. She could play her audience just as well as she could play the game. A little extra eye candy, a little bit of a stunt, and word of mouth would have her number one in gaming in no time.

Belle restarted the level. The added confidence and the extra tautness in her vinyl skin gave her the edge she needed. She blazed through the level with barely any damage taken. Her shirt tore slightly at the neck. She huffed a bit and squirmed. Over-inflating was pretty intense. The tighter her skin got, the more it tingled and flared with sensation. It was like something between a long, luxurious morning stretch and a tight but playful pinch, but everywhere at once. Her lovely thighs added a C or two to their thiccness. The booty shorts were dimpling her skin, giving the viewers a real indication of how much pressure was building up.

She gripped her controller tight as the game got more intense. She didn’t even spare a glance at the chat, but out of the corner of her eye she could see it was rocketing by. This was going to be a fun VOD to rewatch. Just a little more and she’d finish the first chunk of campaign. After a boss fight would be a great place to throw up an ad break and bask in the raw adulation of the chat.

A sharp pain in her side came and went. She ignored it. It felt like it was right where one of her seams was, but she was so close to beating the boss, further investigation could wait. She was in the zone. Despite the pressure—both of performing and of over-inflating—the tightness started to fade to the back of her mind. She felt looser, more relaxed. Downright zen. The flashing red weakness indicator appeared and she bullseyed it with three rockets in a row. Down went the super soldier and the level complete screen appeared.

Belle fumbled to shut the valve for the air canister and triumphantly pulled the hose from her beak.

“Ha! Yes! You see that!” she crowed bouncing up and down and squeaking like a balloon animal. “Oh! Look at that leaderboard! Top ten! Someone clip that!”

She hopped in place and pumped her arms, indulging in a little victory dance. She felt good. And it wasn’t just the thrill of victory. She felt mellow. It was a “just had a massage” sort of feeling. Not the usual post-game session high, but it was nice. Maybe she’d gotten so good at this, winning just felt like second nature. Or maybe…

“What’s that sound?” she said, suddenly aware of a soft hiss.

She double checked the air canister. It was completely off. She squeakily scratched her head, then giggled at the odd “fabric sliding against smooth skin” sensation she was feeling in her shirt and shorts. She reached to make an adjustment to said shorts and gasped as they nearly fell down while she was tugging at them.

She looked down to find her over-inflated physique was fading fast, and her abused shorts weren’t nearly as willing to return to their old size after being put to the test. She held them with one hand and quickly felt for her nozzle. It was still shut. She started running her hands over her exposed skin, rather noisily filling the room with squicks and squerks, until her finger came upon a cool breeze coming out of her side.

“Okay, okay,” she said. “No one panic. I popped a seam, but all I have to do is hold it shut, top myself off, and then get the repair kit.”

She pinched the rupture and released her shorts to reach for the air canister. The moment she let go of them, the shorts slipped to the ground, revealing the lacy panties that were still mercifully clinging beneath.

“Oh *SQUEEP*, okay. Wait. *FWOP* *FWEE* Nobody look,” she gibbered, flustered.

She bent down to pull up her shorts, taking her hand from the hole. Between the extra stress of bending over and the lack of pressure keeping it shut, a burst of air rushed from the hole, producing a rather embarrassing *PBRRRT*. She stood up quickly and slapped her hand against the hole, but the strength was fading from her limbs. They were getting floppy and noodly. Her shirt, which for the first time was loose, suddenly felt like a weighted blanket. She wobbled and flopped onto the couch.

“I’m *twif* … I can *fwoo *…”

She managed to roll over so she could look at the camera and the stream. Her body was starting to sag to conform to the couch. Her legs were two brilliant blue and black ribbons. Her arms barely wiggled as she tried to lift them. She could feel the blush in her cheeks even more intensely now as the chat made its opinion known about this turn of events.

“I think… that’s *fwoop*. That’s the stream for today. Ugh… *fwif* … No one clip this part.”

She murmured one last pathetic *bweep* before her head wavered and flopped down on her chest, leaving her a fully deflated, crumpled, barely dressed mound of her former self. As she settled into the cervices of the couch and wondered how long it would take for someone to come and patch her up, she was serenaded by dozens of new subscriber notifications.

“Well… *treep*” she muttered, muffled by her own chest. “At least the stream didn’t fall flat…”