Underground Interest

She sat with her legs curled up against her chest. Her back leaned against a wall of dirt, while a floor of dirt rested beneath her aching feet. If she looked up towards the ceiling with her sad eyes, all she would see would be a roof of dirt. So she didn’t. There was no point to doing so. She arched her back down and rested her head gently into her lap. It had reached a point where pitch blackness was better than looking around at the brown which encased her.

What came before the dirt, or what lied beyond the dirt, she had no idea. This was the life of a Pooka, you see. Back and forth in the same hole. Sometimes even side to side if one felt a sudden urge to be frisky. Otherwise, it was only her and her hole. Her red, rubbery body squeaked as she wrapped her arms around her legs, tightening herself into a sad lowly ball.

Outside her head, nothing occurred. But inside, it was more color and life than one could ever imagine. But she imagined it. It was the only thing she had to keep her mind from losing all sensibilities. She dreamt of endless blue skies and rolling green fields. But most of what her imagination was spent on, was actual company. Voices to talk to, eyes to look into, hands to hold and feel with. Her body trembled as she pictured it all to herself.

To have any recollection of such things. To be aware of their existence. There must have been a time where she was free from her capsule of soil and mud. She couldn’t have just imagined it all, could she?

The dirt roof overhead shook, sending a bit of mud and a pinch of debris falling off from above and onto the ground, shattering into tiny mounds. The Pooka girl looked up, her eyes shot wide as the sudden disturbance shook her from out of her head. Her chest heaved as she sighed, and once more she buried her head into her arms.

This was all she knew of life on the outside. Her neighbor above her, whoever it was, just loved to stomp around and make a fuss. Another violent quiver befell the tiny hole, sending yet another shower of grime peeling from the ceiling. Bits of soil landed atop her shoulder, and she only tightened her arms around her legs, pushing her head forward into her lap as much as she could.

Chances were that whoever it was that lived upstairs, most likely had no concept of someone possibly living below them. The Pooka’s brain again began to wonder. Was there any possibility of people living below her? Living even deeper into the dirt than she did? She shivered at the concept, her skin starting to crawl from under her suit. She couldn’t even begin to grasp how far away from the sun she lied. To imagine a point that put someone even further away from the surface, wasn’t exactly what her mind needed to think about in its current state.

The stomping upstairs ceased all at once, and the Pooka found herself as she was before. All there was to be, was an ever-encompassing calm. And nothing more. To an extent, she was no longer certain about which one she preferred. The silence was optimal for her head to imagine and explore within itself. But the noise above reminded her that there was something out there. That she wasn’t just alone in a tiny, dirty, cramped void.

The Pooka’s tail bone began to ache behind her. If she sat for too long, her back would become sore, a subtle stinging sensation forming across the base of her spine. If she stood for too long, her feet would start to throb, each pulsing pang creating a deep prick of pain against the soles of her feet. All she ever seemed to do these days, given there was even a sun out there to create said day, was alternate up and down. Up and down. Back and forth. And side to side, so long as one was feeling frisky. So she stood up slowly. Her body was stiff and her muscles visibly tightened in upon themselves, cramping as she moved. Pushing herself onto her legs, she reached behind and twisted her torso as she stretched out her back. It was only a mere inch or two between the top of her head and the dirt that trapped it from above. With a twinge in her chest, her beating heart forcefully pumped itself against her knotted heart strings. Frisky was about as far from how she felt as was possible.

The dirt mushed under her feet as the Pooka marched lifelessly. Encased within the current quite of her surroundings, she began to wonder how she was able to live like this. Her stomach never growled with hunger. Her throat never became parched with thirst. She was fully capable of filling her lungs with air at any moment. What should have been a glorious boon for any other living creature only managed to entrap her in a seemingly eternal hell. What good was being alive if one was unable to actually live?

Whatever it was which sustained her, the poor Pooka was without any other choice. This was her existence. This was her, in its entirety. It seemed her only chance at escaping it all was to succumb to old age. To finally give in, and become one with the dirt which seemed so determined to contain her. How long would that be until then, though? With no possible means of measuring the seconds, or the minutes, or the hours, or the days, time was without any realm of which to exist. Everything flowed together seamlessly. At no point was her suffering allowed to break. Nor was she allowed to find solace in imagining a potentially better future. For all she knew, this was how she was always meant to be, an endless surge of suffering sewn together. Forever building. Never stopping. Never ever. Never. Back and forth. Up and Down. Back and forth once more. But not side to side. She just wasn’t up to it.

Coming to the dead end of her dirt wall, the Pooka leaned a shoulder against it, her red suit smudging with the brown as it clashed with the mud. She closed her eyes, and held one arm meekly within the other. With a deep heave from her chest, she tried once more to escape, even if for a brief period.

She imagined a figure. A silhouette mostly, as her idea of what others looked like was limited. But the shape she understood, and with that shape, she was able to picture what she wanted more than anything. The black figure wrapped its vaguely defined arms around her. It held her tightly, providing her with consolation as she felt for herself that there was something outside her own body, not only on a physical plain, but also something deeper. A feeling, she was unable to express with her tongue.

It was something which made her chest flutter from the inside out. It was something that caused her bosoms to rise and sink rapidly as she become short of breath. It was something that made her skin turn bumpy and receptive to touch. It was something that made her legs cross over each other, a torturously intense sensitivity which thus secured itself between where her plump thighs connected.

With a sigh she opened her now watering eyes. It all felt so wonderful. And yet, with only herself to experience it, it was more comparable to a type of self-induced affliction, rather than an escape from her muted hell. Her stomach felt empty. Not from hunger. It yearned for something more complex than food. She wrapped her arms around the hollow bit, while her shoulder began to pulse as she gradually broke out into a sob.

The dirt walls around her began to shake, a deep rumbling resonating through the filthy roots overhead. Torn from her misery, the Pooka looked up towards the roof, her blurred eyes faintly being able to make out the crumbling clumps. Did the person above her ever feel such suffering? Was it really content with only just stomping around aimlessly? If so, why was she cursed with the inability to be so easily satisfied? Her body melted to the ground, her back once again leaning against the wall as she curled her legs up to her chest. Pressed up to her skin, she felt the walls continue to quiver behind her. With an inquisitive gaze, she pulled herself up and turned her torso around. Reeling a weak arm out from in front of her, she placed a gentle hand against the dirt. It rumbled beneath her fingers, and immediately she pulled her hand away upon feeling it do so. She had never experienced this before, it was only from above that she ever heard any sort of outside intrusion.

The Pooka tilted her head. Was there something else out there causing this? Possibly even, someone else? She wearily stood herself up. Moving away from the wall, she felt the sudden shaking reach her from all over. Her feet uneasily rocked back and forth as her rattling surroundings denied her any sort of secure footing. She held an arm out and planted her fingers atop the wall. With her body anchored, she looked around nervously. As more chunks of dirt fell from the roof, her heart gripped itself from beneath her chest, the sudden realization that her hole could possibly cave in thus entering her head. She imagined her body encased beneath the rubble, and her fingers dug into the wall slightly as they embedded the dirt.

With a gasp the Pooka clenched her eyes shut. There was nothing else that could be done. Her arms quivered like jelly as she leaned against the wall. And as soon as the rumbling had begun, it stopped. Her hole returned to its pacified state. With a sigh, she pulled herself away from the solid surface which lined the sides of her home. Her feet stumbled as she attempted to turn around, her arms waving as she recalibrated her inner balance. With a hand placed atop her throbbing head, she looked around, only to see the same dirt she had been exposed to her whole life.

In the quiet of her newfound peace, her heavy breathing was the only thing the Pooka could make out. She wrapped her fingers around her heaving chest, the digits griping into her bosoms as they filled with air. She felt a feint tapping begin to peck at the back of her skull, and so she bowed her head and gripped the side of her throbbing temple. But that wasn’t it. The pecking, it was coming from outside her head. She gazed about and looked up. With her eyes latched onto the dirt overhead, finally, was she able to find the source. The noise from above worked in synonymous unison, the same light sound repeating back and forth between each other. While very feint, squinting her eyes and focusing her ear drums directly on it, the Pooka was able to make out what was picking at her head subconsciously. It sounded to be footsteps, very similar to what she heard whenever she paced about herself. They were heavy though, as though the feet that made them were cloaked in some sort of sturdy material. The person above her had never made footsteps such as this.

Another patch of silence breached the Pooka’s ears. Her fingers rolled at her sides, anxiety now filling her chest like a weighted balloon. She refused to move an inch, for fear of making any attractive noises with which to capture the intruder’s attention. The muscles that lined her arms and legs tensed. Her body quivered where it stood, while her heart raced faster than ever before. A cold sweat broke along her face, and while she wiped an arm across her brow, only now did she realize how alive she felt.

There was no telling who or what had come from beyond. But only an angle of the most generous demeanor would ever dare to come so far below. The silhouette formed once more in her mind’s eye. Wrapping her arms around her torso, it was as if she was feeling another’s embrace for the first time.

With her eyes growing hazy and her cheeks becoming flushed; The Pooka rocked where she stood, her head rolling about limply as she once again lost herself within her imagination. A sudden high pitched yelp careened from above. With a jolt across her frame, the Pooka shot her eyes up, a sudden iciness reeling through her spine. She could vaguely hear what sounded to be some sort of groaning. Paired along with the odd noise, ever so faintly, the Pooka was only just able to make out what seemed to be a light hissing. The groaning grew deeper, and mere seconds from there a horrid creaking sensation thus threw itself into the mix. The three strange noises joined together into a morbid crescendo. Like an orchestra of fear, the corresponding notes brought upon the shivering Pooka a horrid gripping against her heart.

Whoever was conducting such a catastrophe threw his baton up for what must have been the finale note. The walls, floor, and celling of her hole shook. With her hands gripped tightly against her ringing ears, the Pooka feel down to her knees. Bits of dirt parted from the crumbling roof above, and thumped itself across her limp, shivering, shoulders. While her eyes were clenched shut, her head rang from within like a bell, a piercing, aching sensation slamming itself against the innards of her skull. The resonating bang which had caused all of this still lingered in her ear drums, echoing endlessly within her subconscious.

With a deep breath, the Pooka opened her eyes back up. Beyond her throbbing ears, silence once again had settled atop her secluded mound. However, fear and worry now possessed a tight clasp around her. With an uneasy hand placed onto the ground, she stood herself up. Her knees wobbled from under her, and so she stumbled slightly in her ascent. Throwing her arms out, she caught herself against a wall as she weaved across her hole like a tipsy binger.

Before being allowed any sort of ample opportunity to recover, another series of violent quakes filled the Pooka’s home. Like a rag doll being tossed about endlessly at a daycare, she simply fell to her knees and hands, her stinging muscles now too weary to support herself any further. Forcing against her stiff neck, she slowly reeled her head up. The rattling continued around her, and at that very moment, right before her eyes, the source of it all finally came into her view.

A cloud of dust began to spiral down from the ceiling, flinging about blots of dirt and mud as it carelessly did so. The Pooka held an arm against her face to shield her eyes from the flying debris. Piercing from the cloud like a beast rising from its lake, a tiny silver tip emerged. The metallic cone burrowed down further, widening as more of it came into view. The unknown device continued its descent, and upon pushing itself down a sudden rush of mud flowed out from the ceiling. Like a polluted waterfall it piled against the floor, filling the room with a thick mist of dirt. The Pooka sputtered and coughed, holding a hand up against her mouth. Through her watering eyes, she struggled to see past the wall of soil which still hung across the air.

Against the brown, a black shape developed. Looking up, the Pooka came face to face with a silhouette. With her heart pulsing, violently, she brought her legs up from under her, and slowly, she pushed herself completely upright. Gradually, the dust began to settle, and with time the black outline was given form. The body which stood before her was mostly white. Its hands were a light blue, while its feet were a deep red. Across what she assumed to be the head, a blue slot covered the top portion of its skull. No eyes shown through, and no lips appeared to gesture any sort of emotional gauge. With two crooked red lines slathered against its chest, what really stood out from the figure was what it gripped in its hands. It was a tube-shaped contraption. From the top, what appeared to be a ‘T’ shaped handle shot up, while from the base a long tube, ending in a pointed arrow, hung limply. The monster gripped the handle tightly with one hand, and aimed the sharpened hose directly at the Pooka with another. The Pooka backed herself against a wall, her sweating fingers spread as she pushed at the barrier behind her, unable to dig into the solid foundation she helplessly rested against.

Without a word, it fired the arrow directly at her. The point pierced through the Pooka’s skin, and dug itself firmly into her midsection. She winced uncomfortably, her muscles tightening as she recoiled from the intrusion. As easily as it had fired the weapon at her, with a relaxed arm the beast slowly pulled the handle all the way up. And in in a following fluid motion, it brought it back all the way down, the contraption hissing along as it sunk.

A sudden fullness formed inside the Pooka’s belly. Gasping audibly, she looked down, her eyes wavering as she witnessed her midsection begin to distend. A void pit took shape inside of her gut, and while it felt airy and empty, a harsh straining sensation now lined her stomach. With her hands tensed by her side, she stood silently while the masked perpetrator again reared the handle up. A low groan emitted from her belly as more air was forced into the space inside her. With a grunt she clenched her fingers tightly around the tube which hung loosely in front of her. Her feeble arms pulled meekly at the hose, but the arrow had anchored itself securely into her. With every tug against the implanted tube, her body squirmed in discomfort, a muffled pant leaking through her clenched lips.

If the creature was aware of her visible disquiet, one could only assume so. Aware or not, it mattered none. For a third time the handle was pulled up and then pushed down. The round ball that consisted of her stomach broadened out that much more.

“W-why?” Was all her brain was able to muster up, and it was a fair question to think about. Asking why covered many of the strange oddities that had occurred. Why did this thing come all the way down here? Why was it going about and doing this to the creatures which lived silently underground? Why had she wasted so much of her time wishing for something when this is what her desires being granted would lead to?

The pump’s handle was pulled up and then pushed down, and so the Pooka’s stomach began to mutter and creak. Filling near its limit, the air was forced elsewhere in its search for some space to occupy.  Her arms and legs puffed up slightly. As the beast went through another round with its pump, they filled up even more so. Straining to lift away from her torso, The Pooka was forced to release her grip from the tube which had connected itself to her. Prying her fingers away from the contraption, her arms shot up beside her instantly.  The air which had stuffed itself into her arms prevented any sort of drastic movement. With a moan, she attempted to bend even her elbows, but it was of no prosperity. Rounding at the base, and swelling out further along as they drew closer to her wrists, the air had successfully secured her arms into their upright position.

If the remaining portions of the Pooka’s frame had not been so rotund, she would have looked like a big ‘T’ similar to the handle which had done all of this to her in the first place. In her current state, however, a comparison to an overripening tomato would be more a more accurate description. One quick pinch from the pin attached to the first-place ribbon would be all it would take. This award-winning tomato would have been certain to have splattered any spectators both near and far.

Thankfully for the Pooka’s inner consciousness, there was nobody to witness her forced transformation into something so helpless. Only the blue visor of her attacker was around to watch what was happening. Cold and blank, it was debatable if such eyes, if there were any, were even capable of seeing what the thing which bore them was doing. Another pull up on the handle, was followed by another push down on the handle. All of these motions combined resulted in the Pooka’s plush body growing even larger.

Her legs spread apart from each other, her fattening thighs mushing beside their identical neighbor.  Where her legs conjoined at her crotch, a plump crevasse began to form. Indenting into her red suit, a faintly defined ‘V’ took shape between her legs.

The Pooka had clenched her eyes shut. Feeling the mounting air as it circulated inside her body caused a harsh queasiness to take shape in her gut. Although, she was certain her belly would be the first to wretch before her mouth. With another up and down on the pump, being able to clearly hear her stomach groan and strain only helped to strengthen her certainty in that claim.

From behind the Pooka, her ass cheeks bulged. Widening with the rest of her, and pressing out from inside her suit. It was as though her body was now made up of only three circles. Forced to embrace yet another swing on the pump, the three circles which now made up her body turned into five. Her bosoms swelled outward, like a pair of party balloons attached to her chest. She moaned at the sight of what was next to start expanding.

The Pooka’s muffled consciousness was incapable of forming words nor was it able to string together coherent thoughts.  Her head was practically empty, or rather, she had transformed into an, air head, if you will. Yes, but being an air head was far from the end of what she was. Most would argue she had become an air everything.  Her air belly was round and red, with a few brown smudges of dirt coating it. The pointed arrow which had been shot into her remained as it was, the tip poking into her forming some type of makeshift navel. The way it stuck from her imposing midsection gave it a semblance to the rubber lids one would find atop a beach ball, or any other similar inflatables. She imagined to herself how removing the plug at this point would only send her careening away like a cartoon gag as the air flew out of her.

Poking awkwardly from her belly were her legs and arms, which came together to make her appearance comparable to a rather stylized depiction of a star. The bright red limbs were bloated and wide. Her arms had begun to engulf over her wrists, making even the tiniest bit of movement implausible. Filling out into a pair of cylinders, they looked like an ice cream cone with a lopsided, cherry dipped top. Her ankles were not visible, having both been swallowed by her inflating legs. The top portion of her feet stuck out pathetically from under her, providing the most basic and minimalistic support for her teetering frame.

Resting above her belly sat her plumping breasts, her nipples poking from behind her tightening rubber exterior to form what resembled two googly eyeballs. Because of her outward growth, her head became concealed behind it all. Her cheeks had slowly transitioned into becoming fat and puffy against her face. Her eyes alternated back and forth wearily, thus exerting the only motive of movement available to her. Whatever she was able to see in front of her was blocked out by her chest. The beast was no longer visible, but the effect it had on her was all the more prominent.

The Pooka felt her already strained skin crawl when the ever-familiar hissing once again pierced her ears. As the hissing noise grew louder, her body grew rounder. The sides of her body, as well as her hands, now started to press against the wall beside her. She squirmed slightly as she felt the crags of mud and rock begin to poke into the surface of her skin. The hissing ceased, and then shortly after, started once again. With her expanding frame already pressing to the side sections of her hole, the only place left to go was up. The problem with going up was that there was little room to go up with. So, her cranium was quick to connect with the ceiling. “Mmmphing” as the tip of her skull pressed into the dirt overhead, she slowly began to feel her body growing out from under her neck. It slid up, swallowing her as though she was chin deep in quick sand. With her face sinking into her body, the sides of her bloated face were mushed over her eyes. The last thing she was able to see at all were her bosoms as they too began to swell up against the jagged ceiling.
Encased in darkness, the Pooka still managed to feel her body as it took on a naturally spherical shape. Her crotch sunk below her torso and out from between her legs. Dripping to the ground, the previously described indent grew darker and more noticeable as the bits which formed it were forced to push out against her ever tightening suit. Melting onto the ground, her crotch pushed out along the soil slightly as it now took on the weight of her body, as little as there was to be found in her balloon like state.

With her head halfway deep into her own body, the Pooka felt her heart skip a beat when a quivering sensation started to take shape within her frame. She could feel her stomach pulsing as it struggled to withhold the mounting pressure. She felt her hands and feet gradually sink into her ball like body. Her breasts became sore, the hardened dirt poking deep into the stretched and sensitive skin. The subtle wobbling which encased her conscious only heightened in notability. A deep groaning lingered in her ears. Her skin began to creak. The rubber suit which enclosed itself over her now started to squeak like a frightened mouse.

The Pooka closed her eyes. For one last time, she attempted to find refuge inside her imagination. However, her mind was simply too slow to the draw.

The strange invader did not flinch an inch as tatters of red and yellow scattered around it like confetti. Bits of dirt were shaken from the roof as the resonating explosion filled the tight hole. A gust of air flew around the odd suit, but encased inside, whoever bared the outfit did not feel even a brush of it. And so, like that, what remained of the Pooka was lost. Where her staggering frame had once rested, only a tiny little ‘600’ lingered in her place, followed with a brief jingle from seemingly nowhere. With the hose of its pump reclined back into place, the beast silently turned around. Walking up the opposite side of her hole, it drew out a large drill and lifted it up to the wall. The beast’s arms jittered as the tool began to dig through the dirt. With nothing left behind it, the beast moved onward, continuing its seemingly endless hunt underground.