Jeff was in a daze as he followed Tracy and Janice down a stairway into the hotel's sub-basement. Had he really just fucked Tracy's face while Janice blew that hot water bottle to its limits? Everything here in Balloonville seemed like a dream.
At the bottom of the stairs was a double door plastered with imposing signs. AUTHORIZED BALLOONVILLE B&B STAFF ONLY, said one. EYE AND EAR PROTECTION MUST BE WORN IN DESIGNATED AREAS, warned another. CAREFUL! MULTIPLE TRIP HAZARDS AND SLICK SURFACES, shouted a third. DANGER! SHARP IMPLEMENTS IN USE, abbounced a fourth.
Janice pulled an access card out of her pocket and pressed it against a square on the wall. "We don't want any non-poppers accidentally wandering in here," she explained. "It could be traumatic." She pushed open the door and beckoned Jeff forward.
"Welcome to the Popping Room," she said.
If Jeff was expecting something fancy or grandiose, he was disappointed. Three of the walls of the large space were padded, making Jeff think of an insane asylum (which he realized he might well need after all this sexy balloon-blowing craziness), and the fourth was glass. The ceiling was lined with sound-absorbing foam. On the floor was plush carpet, at least what little of the floor could see; most of it was littered with blown-up balloons, old and oxidized, sitting atop a layer of latex shards.
Tracy kicked off her shoes, and Janice glared at her.
"No one is supposed to go barefoot, in case someone drops a pin or something," Tracy explained. "But I do it anyway, because I love the feel of all that soft latex under my feet!"
"Especially when it's a blown-up balloon she's stomping into oblivion," Janice said. "Just do me a favor and keep your shoes on, Jeff. I could get in enough trouble just having you here, and I don't need you slicing your foot open on a knitting needle someone was using to annihilate balloons. Anyway, this is where--"
Janice was interrupted by a beeping, which was muted by the padding on the walls and the latex on the floor. A green flashing light attracted Jeff's attention to a contraption hanging on the ceiling in the corner. It looked like a gigantic basketball net.
"Incoming!" giggled Tracy.
A hatch opened in the ceiling and several dozen balloons cascaded down through the oversized basketball net and onto the floor.
"Green and white balloons," Janice said. "Room 201 must have checked out." There was another beeping to the right; Jeff turned, and through the glass wall he saw a smaller version of the room he was in. A few more balloons emerged from a similar-looking apparatus, and Janice and Tracy exchanged a knowing look.
"That's the biohazard room," she said. "If a balloon has bodily fluids on it, it goes into a separate area. We wear protective clothing and face shields." She looked at Tracy again. "Not all of us like getting a surprise face-full of jizz." Tracy giggled, which made her gigantic boobs jiggle. Jeff thought of how Janice had popped a cum-covered balloon right in front of him, but decided not to say anything.
"You know we like to keep freshly-blown balloons in the guest rooms, so we change them throughout the day. Sometimes we pop the old balloons right in the room, but for guests who are really averse, we send the balloons down here to be popped. We leave them in case anyone wants to practice."
Much to Jeff's surprise--after all, it had been just minutes since he'd pumped a load of cum into Tracy's mouth--his cock started to get hard.
"Practice?" Jeff asked. "Who would need to, uh, practice... um... popping balloons?"
Janice looked slightly offended. "We're a full-service hotel," she said. "We don't just blow up balloons for our guests. If they like to see balloons getting popped, we have people who will, shall we say, cater to their needs." Jeff's cock was now at full attention.
"Come on," Tracy said. "Let's show him all the ways there are to pop balloons." She turned to what looked like a small workshop next to the entrance door. There was a tool chest labeled SCREWDRIVERS and AWLS, others labeled labeled PINS--SMALL TO MEDIUM, PINS--ORNATE, and KNITTING SUPPLIES. Jeff pulled that one open and saw knitting needles of all sizes.
"You'd be surprised how many guys like watching balloons get popped with those," Janice explained. "Must be a mother thing."
On the wall was a magnetic strip hung with knives, from a small pairing knife to a giant steel machete. Tracy pulled a large double-edged sword from its rack and stepped back into the Popping Room. "Avast, maties!" she shouted in a terrible British pirate accent, "Surrender your balloons to me for popping!" She ran forward, swinging the sword back and forth, and while several balloons exploded with a machine-gun-like RAT-A-TAT-A-TAT!, the noise muted by the padded walls.
She spotted a big 36" balloon against the wall.
"Ahoy, ye scourge!" Tracy shouted at it. "Today thee shall die an honorable death!" She thrust the sword into the big balloon, and with a muted BANG, it was reduced to a soggy sheet of latex, which stuck to the blade. "Dead balloons tell no tales! Eew, look at that, it's still wet with Anya's spit from when she blew it up."
"Will you put that away before you put someone's eye out?" Janice said. She took the sword, gingerly removed the remains of what had been, just seconds before, a big, beautiful, tightly-blown balloon, and tossed it onto the floor, then returned the sword to its rack.
Jeff couldn't decide what to stare at, Tracy's balloon-popping performance or the huge variety of balloon-busting implements available. There was a pair of gloves with knives for fingers ("Inspired by the Freddy Kruger movies," Janice explained). One wall had a row of shelves lined with all sizes of shoes, ranging from flats to giant spiked heels. And next to them were--
"Are those elbow pads?" Jeff asked.
"Yes, and knee pads," Janice said. "Insurance requirements, we have to wear them when we practice sit-popping."
"Like this," Tracy said, and grabbed an orange 16 inch balloon. She straddled it, then slowly lowered her ample ass into the soft latex. Jeff winced, thinking about how tight the balloons in his room had been blown, but perhaps because this one had been inflated a few hours ago, or perhaps because it was blown softer for a non-popper, it was to die a slow death. She lowered herself slowly onto the balloon, and he thought of how magnificent it would be to have Tracy lower herself onto his rock-hard cock. The balloon lattened and bulged, its bright orange latex growing more transparent as it was squeezed by Tracy's weight.