Name: Shiro Minase
Age: XX
Occupation: A cram school student, currently studying from home while preparing to enter a distance learning university.
Hobby: Uploading abdominal inflation videos under the name “Shiro”—her face never shown, her identity kept secret.
I turned my phone sideways and slid under the covers.
Time for Shiro’s inflation stream.
A niche channel only known to a small, dedicated fanbase.
A cute girl inflating her belly with air, just to show us.
She never shows her face, and her voice is barely more than a whisper.
Just like always, the notification popped up exactly at 10 p.m.
[Shiro＊Toniht is a speshial edition＊]
“…‘Toniht’?”
I blinked and looked again.
A typo?
Well, whatever. Not a big deal.
I tapped the notification and the screen changed.
A fancy-looking room filled the frame.
A hotel, maybe?
The camera was unsteady, like always—probably just her phone propped up on something.
But for a second, it shook.
Like someone had brushed against it.
It was labeled a special edition.
Maybe she wasn’t alone tonight?
Then the sound kicked in.
A faint breath, barely audible.
“G… good evening… t-tonight is… a little… special…”
The pale blue hose was already inserted.
Without hesitation, Shiro switched on the electric air pump.
Brrrrrrrr…
The soft whir of the small motor blended into the stillness of the room.
Her belly began to rise, slowly, steadily.
Beneath her translucent skin, air expanded, lifting her abdomen bit by bit.
The taut surface shifted from pure white to a faint blush as it stretched.
Around her solar plexus, subtle ripples matched the rhythm of her breathing.
Shiro didn’t say a word.
This was always the point where she stopped.
Just before her limit—a familiar sight to any fan.
“T-tonight… I can still take more…”
Brrrrrrrr…
Her belly continued to swell, the sound of the pump steady and relentless.
Both sides of her waist began to rise, slowly, gradually.
Air seemed to travel through her colon, pushing outward from within, stretching the intestinal walls with relentless pressure.
Her belly pressed forward from above the pelvis, forming a smooth, glistening curve.
What used to be a narrow waist thickened like an inflating bag, reshaping itself unnaturally.
“Nn… ngh… kuh…”
Shiro’s shoulders trembled.
She drew a sharp breath, then let out a muffled moan from deep in her throat.
The camera followed Shiro’s movements closely.
Someone else must have been in the room.
“Kuh… ugh… aaah…”
Arching her back and thrusting her swollen belly forward, Shiro slowly twisted her body in pain.
Gglurp… gyurururu…
A damp, unpleasant squelch echoed from deep inside her belly.
Blorp… blorp… Her abdomen surged upward in pulses.
The trapped air was forced deeper, snaking through her small intestine.
The long, coiled tubes swelled inside the narrow space of her torso, making the bulging belly grow even rounder.
Something’s wrong.
This isn’t normal.
I couldn’t quite explain it—
But something was definitely off.
Suddenly, Shiro turned off the pump.
A heavy silence fell over the room.
The hand she had resting on her belly moved—pressing hard against her lower abdomen.
“…C-can’t… no more… please…”
Her voice trembled, like she was pleading with someone.
Not to the viewers—
But to someone behind the camera, someone we couldn’t see.
Brrrrrrrr…
“Ugh… ah… nnngh…”
The pump started up again—
even though Shiro hadn’t touched it.
As if someone, unseen just off-camera, was answering her silent plea.
“Ugh—nngh… gop!”
Her stomach clenched violently and twisted, convulsing in on itself.
A wet, murky sound echoed as a stream of liquid spilled from her mouth.
Her stomach, swollen with air, bulged outward—shoved up against the surface of her belly by the pressure of her displaced organs.
“Hii—n-no, stop… help me!! Somebody, please!!”
Her scream burst through the speaker, so loud it distorted.
Shiro, clutching her swollen belly, staggered out of frame.
The camera shook.
Someone was following her.
“No—stop! Let go of me!!”
The sound of a struggle erupted from somewhere off-screen—loud, chaotic.
A piece of furniture crashed to the ground, followed by the sharp shatter of a vase.
Shards scattered across the floor with brittle clinks.
Thud!
A heavy crash echoed—like someone had been thrown to the ground.
Rough, labored breathing followed, as if someone was being forcibly held down.
“D-don’t push—noooo!!”
Shiro’s scream burst through the speakers, loud enough to make them crackle.
“Ugh—grk!? …Gah—gaaah!!”
A choked cry, like phlegm being forced up from deep in her throat.
Bubbling mucus gurgled beneath it—
no longer a voice, but something raw and involuntary.
BANG! CLATTER!
Heavy thuds echoed again and again—brutal kicks striking the floor.
The sound of someone thrashing, struggling, cornered.
Fighting back with everything they had.
Crying out for help with nothing but noise.
SPLORT!!
“Ghh—iiih!!”
A wet, rupturing sound rang out.
Immediately after, a thick, viscous splash followed—
the noise of something heavy and slick being spilled across the floor.
“Kahh… ahh… nnnh…”
Shiro’s voice rasped out—thin, broken.
It was almost like her usual whisper,
but this time, it sounded like it could vanish at any second.
The camera shook again.
Suddenly, someone’s hand slipped into the edge of the frame.
“Mmh… gulk…”
Shiro made a sound like she was swallowing something.
It was disturbingly raw—a sound that clung unpleasantly to the ears.
Click…
The footage and audio cut off in an instant.
Only the pause icon remained, quietly glowing on the screen.
No new videos were ever uploaded to the channel after that.
Special Cleaning Report: Room 307, [Redacted] Hotel, XX Ward
Entry Time: 03:12
Personnel: 2 workers including the recorder
Client: Facility Management Company (under regular contract)
Report Trigger: Odor reported by post-cleaning patrol staff
The moment the door opened, a harsh acidic stench struck our noses.
It wasn’t the usual smell of decomposition—rather, it was a complex mix of stomach acid, feces, and iron.
I haven’t experienced that many scenes like this.
Still, just one step inside and I thought, “Yeah… this one’s going to take time.”
The body was that of a woman with severe abdominal damage.
Fluids, excrement, and vomit had spread outward from the corpse like petals of a flower.
Her eyes, fixed in a seated gaze as if staring into the distance, seemed to be looking right at us.
There was no need to look away.
I was used to it.
Still, for some reason, it felt like our eyes met.
An abnormally swollen abdomen.
Next to the body were a smartphone fixed on a tripod and an air pump.
A tube was connected to the pump, stretching all the way to the woman’s anus.
An unforeseen accident during a live stream.
It was obvious at a glance.
When we lifted the body, ballooned intestines burst from her abdomen and dropped onto the floor.
Still warm—seems the accident happened not too long ago.
But the air-filled belly wouldn’t fit into the body bag, and the zipper caught partway through.
Left with no choice, we squeezed the stomach and intestines to let the air out.
“Gop…”
From her small mouth, she expelled vomit—and a metal oil lighter.
She probably swallowed it as part of the performance during the stream.
Though filthy, it was still in good condition.
Bulky, heavy, and masculine in design—likely a high-end limited model.
Initials were engraved on the bottom.
It might have been something important to someone.
Oh right, I’d been meaning to get a new lighter.
After confirming no one was watching, I discreetly slipped it into my pocket.
Washing, disinfecting, deodorizing.
All by the manual.
Even through the mask, the stench seeped in.
Wearing double disposable gloves, I carefully scrubbed the floor soaked with bodily fluids.
Exit Time: 05:48
Work Completed.
