Limit Test

“Uh… contraption I’ll come up with a name for later, size calibration test one.”

Tera tugged on the hose a little bit, making sure that the nozzle was firmly secured in her rear, then looked up at the control box a couple feet away from her. Her prosthetic horn was in, and she had rigged it so that a small bubble of artificial magic could be used on touchscreens. The touchscreen in question displayed five buttons: “SMALL”, “MEDIUM”, “BIG”, “HUGE!”, and “ADVANCED”.

She hadn’t figured out what those labels would mean yet, however, so “ADVANCED” was the only one that did anything. She “pressed” that.

Two boxes, both labeled, both with zeros in them. One: “DESIRED”. The other: “CURRENT”. A numpad, which she quickly typed a 15 into, and then pressed “OK”.

Water flowed through the hose and into a different set of piping, rushing through and filling it up with a perfect sort of warmth.

Pushing whatever gases were already there up and eventually forcing them out with a burp, which would of course be recorded.

Tera didn’t like that too much, but the rest was good.

Filled her up completely, such that she was starting to bulge out a little bit as the weight settled.

Stopped. Held there.

Tera thought for a second. This was… actually a pretty good place for SMALL: full, all the way through, but not bloated per se. More a comfortably weighed that she could theoretically take with her if she swapped out the hose with a butt plug, kept her tail close, and went out on the town. Heck, she could possibly pretend to be pregnant as an excuse to cut in line or get extra space on the shuttle—

She was no liar.

“Note: Set SMALL to 15.”

Next up: MEDIUM. She looked at herself, thought for a second, and (since this thing was calibrated to volume, not to radius) set it to 90.

Now she could feel her front bulging out into a tighter (beach) ball, and things pushing up against one another inside her. This was what she was going for: this was stretching, this was bloat.

And it was wonderful.

The water cut off again. She’d nailed it. She sat up, put her hooves on her belly for a second, sloshed it around.


Right, she had to listen to this later, and she still had work to do. “Note: Set MEDIUM to 90.” Actually, it could be a bit bigger and still comfortably be called MEDIUM: “Scratch that. Set MEDIUM to 120.”

Alright, BIG. She wanted it to be about double the radius, so… two cubed is eight times the volume, is… 960, let’s round it up to she input 1000 flat and leaned back against the shower wall.

Now things were getting real. She could actually feel her intestines stretching against her skin and against one another’s folds, and she could feel everything not full of water in her getting pushed out of the way to make space, and she could feel how amazing and (frankly) arousing it all was. And when it finally stopped, she really wished it hadn’t, except that the water wasn’t going anywhere and she sure as hay wasn’t either.

“Note: Definitely set BIG to 1000.”

Alright, last one: HUGE! (She thought the exclamation point was funny. She had a weird sense of humor.) Let’s see, double again, so eight times again, that’d be eight thousand—

—she couldn’t resist the joke, dumb, and ancient, though it was.

She set it to 9001.

And just took off her horn and lay back once more, and felt the fireworks, the pressure, the flow near her tightly stretched ponut going inwards, the whole experience of being her own pressure pillow, her own warm waterbed, having a hot tub swimming in her, and she shuddered—would have bounced up and down, were it not for the weight causing the whole thing— and stomped a bit in orgasmic delight at the thrill of it all.

And then she was tired and in a haze for a while.

And then there was pain.

Not much, but sharp little pricks, and weird internal kinks, which she figured was her intestines being folded into sharp corners inside her, but all of these thoughts flew by her in a blur as something even deeper than the sex drive that got her here awoke in her with one command:


She panicked—where was her horn? Right there where she left it, but she couldn’t concentrate enough to summon it, and oh, buck, no, she was going to—

—nine thousand and one exactly.

No more was coming in.

She stopped, breathing the short breaths of the winded and afraid. “HAAAAH, huhhhh, HAAAAH, huhhh…

The pinpricks down her middle were there—her skin was tight as a drum at this point—but not spreading, not getting worse.

Ditto with her internal kinks. (Puns! Not that she was of a mind to notice.)

She was at her limit.

But no further.

She had made it, whatever “it” was. This was too big even for “HUGE!”, granted, but it was possible, that she now knew.

She had bucking made it.

For whatever reason, she started laughing.

Once her weird, inexplicable fit of mirth was done, she realized that it didn’t really hurt anymore, and she was pretty stable in this position. She didn’t dare add any more water or push on herself too hard, and she wouldn’t get this big again for a while, but where she was, and how she felt, were pretty good, at least for the time being.

So she leaned back and gingerly rubbed the top of her stretched midsection in slow, massaging circles, switching back and forth between sharp winces and deep, pleasured sighs.

She’d have to listen to all this later.

She didn’t care.