This is the story of how I became a looner. I’ve split it into different events in my life that had the biggest impact. Hope you enjoy reading. I’m wondering how many of you had similar things happen. Do get in contact, I’d love to hear your story.
The start of it all
I must’ve been somewhere between 4-5. It’s the earliest memory I had of a balloon. Apparently one had popped when I was playing with it when I was younger, but I have no memory of it. I’m told I didn’t have much reaction to it.
We’d just been shopping. I had gotten a balloon at some point but for whatever reason it had been deflated and I wasn’t allowed it. On the way to the car, I asked for it. My step-mum (I didn’t live with her, I was just visiting my dad for the week) started blowing it up. When it was full (I assume, my memory is foggy) I asked for it, but was ignored. We went in a lift with a few other people. My step-mum kept the balloon against her lips, blowing very slowly (or not at all). I start begging to have it, but was ignored. When the lift doors opened to an underground car park, we walked out and she started blowing properly again. (I think I was still begging to have my balloon.) As we were walking back to the car, the balloon suddenly exploded right next to me. It was really loud in an underground car park as you can imagine. Pretty sure that gave me a balloon phobia right then.
When asked why she did it, she just said she wanted to see how big it would go. I don’t remember anything else. I reckon she did it to be spiteful, but I don’t know for sure.
I wasn’t scared in the slightest while she was blowing. I honestly had no idea what was about to happen. I just wanted my balloon. I can’t remember if it had a neck or not, but I’d imagine it did. I have a very clear image of this huge red crystal balloon she was blowing into in that lift.
I’m pretty sure she didn’t want to pop it next to the other people, which is why she stopped blowing. I know for a fact it never left her lips though. There’s absolutely no doubt she intended it to pop. Her stopping in the lift to be “polite” kinda proved that. Once we got out I clearly remember her blowing hard.
That certainly started the fear of balloons but I don’t know where the fetish part came from. I had nightmares, not fantasies about that day.
Inflatables
I have no idea what got me into inflatables, but I’m guessing it’s related to the fascination I started to get towards balloons. Here’s some of my easiest memories.
One summer I was in a small pool and there were a few inflatables in it. I remember taking a beachball to my room one day, shutting the door, and letting all the air out so I could blow it back up. I remember finding it difficult to figure out how to blow it properly. I didn’t realise you had to squeeze the valve. Eventually I figured it out and blew it up. Once it was full, I let half the air out so I could blow it again. I’m not sure why I did this, but I remember enjoying the sensation of blowing. I was doing it again when I heard my mum coming to my room. I quickly hid the beachball in my cupboard. I don’t know why I hid it, I think I didn’t want her to take it away. I’m not sure what happened to it after. It was a completely clear beachball, I have no other memories of it.
I saw my dad inflating the paddling pool with a foot pump another day. I remember enjoying the feeling of the pool (which was the shape of a car, complete with inflatable roof) the plastic would feel especially nice on a hot day having been heated by the sun.
One day I was left unattended and the pump was left out. The pool was starting to get a little flat, so I attached the pump like I’d seen, and started topping it up.
I believe the pool had lots of chambers. I was inflating the top one. The vinyl soon got nice and tight but I didn’t stop. I was curious what would happen if I kept going. (I thought it would eventually be impossible to pump anymore. The thought of it popping never crossed my mind) I started to get quite excited as the plastic got very hard. There’s no way I was stopping. I remember the tubed shaped chamber was bulging, way bigger than the others. It was left in the full sun, so it really stretched. I wondered how big it would get and kept pumping for ages. I was waiting for it to be “full” and be unable to press down on the pump. The chamber was like double the size of the others, when my dad came outside, saw what I was doing, and told me off. I was sent to my room. (He obviously thought I was trying to break it). I’m actually grateful this happened. If he hadn’t stopped me, it would’ve certainly popped and probably given me a phobia for inflatables too. If that happened, I may not have experimented later on.
I was quite disappointed I didn’t get to see how big it would go, and vowed that I would do it again when he was out. Unfortunately he was carful not to leave the pump out after that. I tried once to do it by mouth (I think I inflated the wing mirror and roof of the inflatable car) but it got too hard to blow and I wasn’t able to make it stretch like before. I did like how much tighter it was though. I got caught topping it up once by my mum. She said it was dirty (meaning it had been left outside and had germs). I said it was going flat and she topped it up (although no where near enough) with the pump.
It must’ve been around the same time that I started stealing the inflatables I went swimming with and taking them into bed with me. I had a pair of armbands (water wings) with dolphins on them. I’d blow them as hard as I possibly could. I remember reading the warning: do not overinflate! And wanted to see what would happen if I did. (I thought inflatables were impossible to pop. Probably because I’d not seen it happen before)
I would literally force air into them for hours at a time, using my tongue and cheeks to get little bits of air in as it was impossible to blow them bigger the normal way. (I thought if I did it long enough, they’d get bigger and bigger like a balloon)
They never seemed to get any bigger but I was determined to try. They would get rock hard after a while though. After I was done, my mouth would ache from forcing air in and I’d feel incredibly silly. I would have no idea why I did that, and promise myself I wouldn’t do it again. Of course come the next night, I couldn’t help myself.
After practicing for a few weeks, I was able to get them to very high pressures. It was at the stage where squeezing the valve would make air explode out pretty loudly. One day I blew each chamber so tightly that it actually scared me to let the air out. I think I just left them under my bed.
The next day they were gone. Someone had taken them.
A few days later I found them in a drawer.
I stole them back and carried on most nights, doing the same thing. One night I think I fell asleep and left two stupidly tight arm bands in my bed.
They were taken away and hidden again. My mum never said anything, but she must’ve known something was up. I had to go without for a while. One day I searched absolutely everywhere for them, eventually finding them in my mums cupboard. I got very excited and made sure to hide them after each night. Eventually they were found and must’ve been thrown away. I searched everywhere for weeks but couldn’t find them.
Curious about balloons
At some point, I begin fantasising about balloons. Not sure when or how this started. Perhaps it’s linked to the inflatable sessions. I’d lay in bed at night and imagine what would happen if I blew a balloon without stretching it first. (For some reason I though you had to stretch it, otherwise it would pop right away)
Anytime I saw a balloon in a book or on tv (although the latter scared me) I’d become fixated on it. I had a craft book that told you to blow a balloon “until it was nice and tight” then cover it in paper mache. Wait until it was dry then pop it with a pin. It said something like “warning this will be very loud” it was complete with pictures and I loved it. Was kinda scary just reading about it popping.
A new toy
Once I was at school when my friend started blowing up his plastic ziplock folder you’re supposed to keep your work in. (Imagine a ziplock bag but a3 sized) I was instantly fascinated. I got him to do it again, encouraging him to make it bigger. Eventually the teacher told him off. This had made me discover you could blow up plastic bags like a balloon or inflatable.
I started experimenting at home. My mum was talking to someone outside so I grabbed a plastic bag (one of those clear ones that are used for packaging) and took it to my room, blowing it bigger and bigger. Unlike the inflatables I used to blow, this was actually getting bigger after it was full.
I suddenly thought how cool it would be if I blew it so big it completely filled the room. Finally, something that wouldn’t pop like a balloon, but carried on getting bigger unlike an inflatable. (I was still young, okay? I didn’t realise physics doesn’t work like that) it was getting harder to blow, but I didn’t care. It was no where near as hard as those arm bands. I was going to blow this bigger than me!
I kept forcing air in, completely thrilled I’d discovered this. Then suddenly there was a loud bang and the bag completely ripped in two. I jumped so much and was shaking for ages after. (This bag must’ve been a particularly strong one. Trust me to find the rare bags that actually go bang on my first go)
Well that was it. I was scared of people blowing up bags now too. My dream of blowing plastic bags until they filled my room, shattered almost as soon as it came.
I eventually got the courage to blow bags again, but didn’t make them very tight. Knowing now that they could pop, added another element to it.
Therapy session
I was around 10 and my family knew a therapist and decided it would be a good idea to help my get over my balloon fear. She came once a week, free of charge (think my mum does regular work for her) and we had different sessions.
They started off quite silly tbh. I had to write the word balloon on a piece of paper and stick it to my door 🙄 as if that would help. Once a friend came round and asked why I had balloon written on my door. Was quite awkward explaining that to her and I soon removed it out of embarrassment.
The next week, she put one breath into a balloon and tied it off. I had to keep it in the living room, out of the way. That made me anxious for the first few days, but I soon got used to it.
The week after is where it got interesting. At the end of the session (can’t quite remember what we did) she suggested she goes in the garden and blows up a balloon while I watched from the house.
I immediately got this strange feeling of fear but also excitement, and I agreed to it. I definitely wasn’t a looner at this point, but did have a weird fascination with balloons.
I would have to give her a gesture every time I wanted her to put a breath in and could stop at any time.
I’d not seen anyone blow a balloon up in ages and was really curious in that way that only a looner can understand.
I felt safe in the house and got her to blow it to rated size (not that I knew what that was) she didn’t lower the balloon though, and I gave her another sign to blow again. My heart was racing at this point and although I was scared, the curiosity got the better of me. I kept on making her blow it bigger until the balloon was huge. Eventually she stopped despite me giving another sign to blow. She looked a little nervous herself. She let the air out and came in, congratulating me for my bravery
I kinda wanted her to keep going, but wasn’t going to tell her that. I may have gotten too scared anyway. I can tell you I fantasised about that for a while. Of course she didn’t stop in my imagination.
The week after she put one breath in a balloon and told me to pop it with a knife. I couldn’t do it though, so she made me watch her from across the room. I remember it being pretty loud and she apologised, not knowing it would pop like that (you’d have thought she would’ve tested it first) a few weeks later, we had a party at the house. There was balloons tied to the front door. I was told I would be rewarded if I could stand in front of them. Wanting the Lego set I had been promised, I managed it (although I was shitting bricks when one of the balloons touched me) after that I was cured apparently and that was the end of the sessions.
Honestly it didn’t really do much to help the fear, but I guess the thought of her blowing that balloon might of done something else...
Second loudest bang
I was at a school assembly. The teacher started explaining the difference between wisdom and intelligence. She suddenly asked if anyone knows what causes the sound of a balloon popping. At the word balloon, my heart began racing. Someone answered the question saying it is caused by the air exploding out. The teacher said that’s intelligence. She asked for some volunteers. My girlfriend at the time and a few others go to the front of the hall. The teacher brought out a modelling balloon and a pump. My fear rises even more. She said that wisdom is knowing when to stop pumping the balloon.
She asked the volunteers to stop her when they think it’s full.
She started pumping the balloon. When the the whole thing was full, most the volunteers told her to stop. My anxiety was through the roof. After a few more pumps, the last volunteer told her to stop. When she stopped pumping, I was very relieved. They she turned to the rest of the school and asked if she should continue. Of course some people had to shout yes. I was terrified but couldn’t run. I tried to distract myself by talking to a friend, hoping she would stop.
It seemed to take forever, people still encouraging her to continue.
There was then a huge bang that echoed through the whole hall. I tried to hide how much I was shaking. I was relived it was finally over.
First balloon
I noticed a balloon in a drawer one day. It was like a modelling balloon but wider and a little shorter. I got nervous and immediately shut the drawer. I kept thinking about it though. Eventually one day when I was home alone, I grabbed the balloon from the drawer. I think I was around 13 at the time. I stretched it, then put a little breath in. It bulged slightly, then grew slightly longer. My heart was hammering in my chest. I’d dreamed of this for so long! I couldn’t believe I was actually doing it. Something else had started to grow in my pants. I let the air out and ran to my room, slamming the door. I carefully blew a full breath in, then another. I still couldn’t believe I was actually blowing a balloon. I’d always wanted to know how this would feel.
I realised the balloon was slightly transparent. I was shaking hard and blew again. I had no idea when I was supposed to stop. Would it get harder to blow? I put my hand on the back of the balloon and exhaled slowly. I felt the latex grow against my hand. It was too much. I suddenly orgasmed without even touching anything. After that, I suddenly realised I was holding an actual balloon that could burst. I immediately let the air out and hid the balloon under my bed.
A few days later I found myself fiddling with the balloon again. I suddenly got a rush of bravery and started blowing it up. This time I didn’t orgasm right away and was able to get it a bit bigger. I wanted to try and get the end bit inflated too. I very slowly and carefully blew until it was completely full. It was only a small balloon, but it was still very scary.
I put another breath in without really thinking. Then suddenly realised I had “overinflated” it. I panicked and let the air out. I wasn’t finished though and still had that urge. I found another colour in the drawer and put a few breaths in before I had another orgasm.
A few weeks later my brother brought some balloons home in a party bag. I had my eye on them until I was finally home alone again. They were “rocket” balloons. About 4 foot long and pretty thin. I was somehow able to blow it about 3 feet in length. I inflated and deflated it until I was “finished”
I played with it whenever I could, until one day it popped after the first breath. It wasn’t that loud, but I couldn’t blow another one of those balloons again.
The discovery
One day I came across a video of someone blowing some big bubblegum bubbles. I liked anything that could be blown up, so watched it eagerly. I followed the links and came to balloon videos. I saw people blowing balloons until they burst and got very excited. I had no idea why they were doing it, but didn’t care. Finally something to satisfy my curiosity. I was able to see how big balloons could get without it being scary (at least with the volume low) eventually I discovered it was a fetish and I wasn’t alone. I was around 17 when when the realisation suddenly hit me. It was a real relief to see others had similar experiences to me.
Popping
I was mostly playing with bags from the ages of 14-18. My balloons I had found we’re getting dangerously thin and I had no inflatables. I wanted to try popping, so one day I attached a plastic bag to a foot pump and used a hose to put it in another room. I was terrified, expecting a huge bang like a balloon. I soon found most bags weren’t that loud and after a few weeks of practice, I could blow by mouth until they burst (with headphones on) I got more and more comfortable with popping and eventually moved onto latex gloves and even balloons. After almost a year of blowing balloons (high quality stuff this time) I finally popped my first one intentionality (sit pop under blanket). A few months later, I did a blow to pop using a tube with the balloon in another room. Over the next few years I became more comfortable taking balloons to the very limit and even managing blow to pops with good hearing protection.
I’d never thought I’d get to this stage.