Male Inflation Novels & Stories

A while ago, my sister-in-law, Annie Larsson, who is in her senior year of high school, came over to stay with us during her summer break. The well-developed young woman's daily outfit consists of a camisole and tiny shorts. She doesn't even wear a bra. When she walks or sits, her bust always looks perky. She has a slim, curvy waist, and her butt is always arched alluringly. Any man would have dirty thoughts about her, especially me, her lecherous brother-in-law who dares to act on his lewd impulses. The term "sister-in-law" is simply too tempting to me.

"This feels… incredible… you really know how to handle women…" I'm a figure photographer. Through my lens, I had handled countless women in their most seductive and lascivious moments. The women in my lens, no matter who they were before, always became top-tier models, because I trained each and every one of them. In a dimly lit room, a woman knelt on the bed, completely exposed. Her chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, her cheeks flushed and her eyes hazy. The only thing still held high was the curve of her hips, lifted firmly in my grasp…

I become paralyzed after trying to save my wife. Seven years later, she holds a knife to our young son's neck and forces me to donate my kidney to her male best friend. She says I'm worthless now that I'm already paralyzed—what does it matter whether or not I have my kidneys? What she doesn't know is that I already lost a kidney many years ago when trying to save her. Now, she's taking away the only one I have left!

The night I confessed my love to my girlfriend, she wept so hard she could barely breathe. She said she had seen the future, and she wanted to make a promise with me. I asked her why. She only shook her head and said, "I don't remember… all I know is that in the future I regret something terribly. Frank, no matter what happens, you must give me three chances. Will you?" I was deeply in love with Agnes Grey, so I agreed without hesitation. But later, it was as if she had forgotten all about that night—forgotten it when she clung so intimately to her male assistant. Only then did I understand why she'd made me promise that all those years ago. Because the moment I signed my name on the divorce papers, I heard a familiar voice. It was Agnes at nineteen. Through her sobs, she pleaded, "Frank… you promised me, didn't you? You said you'd give me three chances."

My wife, Alisha West, has always been obsessively frugal. After marrying her, my single guilty pleasure became blowing money on luxury watches—almost like revenge for how absurdly tightfisted she was. By the time our daughter, Elyse Day, turned 7, she had inherited every bit of her mother’s penny-pinching nature. The two of them looked completely out of place in our sprawling mansion. And I loved it. I’d slip into my latest custom-tailored suits and watch them wince at my credit card statements, their expressions twisted in quiet pain. Until one day, lines of floating text suddenly appeared before my eyes. [This spendthrift idiot is still shopping? Doesn’t he know his wife’s company is about to go bankrupt?] [She’s been drained dry supporting this parasite. Her T-shirt collar is practically worn out from washing. Good thing the financially savvy male lead is about to show up and save her.] [Can’t wait for Alisha to file for divorce and kick this useless freeloader out. Let’s see how he survives fighting stray dogs for scraps under a bridge.] I slammed the limited-edition Richard Mille watch onto the table. Alisha, who was crouched on the floor breaking down delivery boxes for recycling, and Elyse, who was helping stomp them flat, both jumped in shock. A chill ran through me. I lunged forward, snatched the battered cardboard box from Elyse’s hands, and held it tightly against my chest. "No… no more buying. I’m returning this watch. "And these boxes… don’t sell them. I think we might need them someday… to lay out under a bridge when we’re sleeping outside…"

My mom gets buzzed at the family dinner and insists on burning my admission letter. She says, "You're a guy, and yet you can't get into Horvard University! What makes you think you can study at any university now? You might as well quit studying altogether!" I try to stop her from doing so, only for my dad to stop me instead. "It's just a stupid scrap of paper. Don't put a damper on your mom's mood, now. Can't you just retake the college admission exam?" Just like that, my fruit of labor gets burned to ashes. When I'm studying for the exam again, Mom keeps inviting people home for drinks. All I do is utter one complaint, and I get beaten to death by her drinking buddies. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the night of the family dinner. This time, I've swapped out my admission letter to the IOU her boss has told her to safeguard. Go ahead and burn it. Two years later, I'll be sure to visit you at your grave, Mom.

After five years together, my fiancée Selene—a surgeon—canceled our wedding forty-nine times. The first time, she was in the middle of makeup when Kaelen, her male intern, messed up a patient’s chart. She rushed back to the hospital and left me waiting at the altar all day. The second time, just as we were about to exchange rings, she heard Kaelen was being bullied by another doctor. She went back to rescue him. I stayed behind, facing a roomful of smirking guests. After that, every time I tried to reschedule, that intern had some new emergency. Always needed her. Always right when the wedding was supposed to happen. I finally decided to end it. The day I left New York, she searched for me like a madwoman. But I was already gone.

After returning from my business trip, I saw my wife lying on the couch in an alluring position. I initially thought it was a surprise, but the next moment, I spotted a hidden camera in the corner of the TV cabinet. It turned out that my wife had been secretly...

"W-Well, that part is very dry. When I'm doing it with someone else, it's very dry, chapped, and it hurts a lot too. I can never get it to lube up even after a long time…" I gaze at Audrey Lawson, whose beautiful face has gone red from embarrassment. Then, I glance at her smoking hot body. After gulping quietly, I tell her with a smile, "Ms. Lawson, your problem seems a little complicated. I dare not give a verdict right away… "Why don't you go behind the curtains right now? I'll use a device to check what the problem exactly is. "Ah, and by the way, remember to take off your pants."

In real life, I had been pushed to the brink by an online romance scam. Just when everything fell apart, I awakened something called the Devotion System, and before I could make sense of it, I found myself thrown into a horror game. Among all the players, I was the weakest, barely able to take care of myself. If I wanted to survive, I had only one option—find someone stronger and cling to them, no matter what it took. However, things did not go the way I expected. Every player avoided me like the plague. Not a single one was willing to team up. With nowhere left to turn, I made a desperate decision. I chose a ghost. I treated her as my bound partner and devoted myself completely to her, clinging to her as if my life depended on it. However, as I spent more time with her, I began to realize she was not just something terrifying. She was someone who had been hurt, someone deeply broken. Hence, I stopped pretending. I began to help her sincerely. In the end, we overcame everything together and cleared the game. However, when I returned to the real world, I discovered something I never could have expected. She had followed me back. From that moment on, all I could do was wait for the system to pull me into the next stage.