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Our school like most in the area staged a senior prom for the graduating seniors in May of each year. This was a two part tux and gown affair. The senior couples would first go to a high class resort lodge within a thirty mile driving range of town where they would eat a sumptuous meal and then they would come back to the school for dancing, socializing, and snacks. What might have been unusual at our school was, that excepting for selecting the venue for the meal and setting up the arrangements, all the rest of their big night was handled by the junior class. The senior class would provide all the money for the food, orchestra, decorations, etc., but they had no control over what was provided for their after prom party with it. In fact great pains were made by the junior class to keep any information regarding this portion of their prom night under wraps, so the seniors had no idea what the theme would be, what orchestra they would be dancing to, or how the hall would be decorated. Because the junior class advisor's credibility was at stake it insured that all aspects of the senior prom would exceed the previous years effort or else As a result there was no chance that the junior class would skimp on their efforts in behalf of the seniors.

My all American friend Bob was our class president and because he knew I had a knack for design and construction appointed me head of the decorating committee. My team consisted of seven girls and two guys in addition to myself. We were faced with a monumental task. Two years earlier several of the business men in the two neighboring towns got together and built a local farm show complex midway between the two towns. The centerpiece was a large exhibition hall constructed like a Quonset hut with a bowed roof spanning sixty feet. The structure was further widened by an additional twenty feet of conventional sloping roof down the length of each side. The previous year as well as this year it would be the site for the after dinner and dance portion of the prom. To add to the pressure the seniors had done a good job of raising money for their class so I was given an extra $50 for the decorating budget for a total this year of $250. This was partly because the seniors they had decorated for, which were the first to use the new building, weren't too pleased with the job they had done. The problem I was faced with was decorating a hall plenty large enough to handle 600 dancing couples and there were only 125 seniors in this year's class.

The key was to make the place look smaller and to fill up space as cheaply as possible. I had no trouble convincing my team that balloons, lots and lots of balloons, was the logical way to take up all that extra space we had to get rid of. There was the question of cost, because balloons were almost as expensive in 1952 as they are today. I told them we not only could get loads of balloons but all the decorating supplies we needed at wholesale prices from the novelty store in the nearby city where dad  bought the carnival supplies for our local carnival. I had remembered that they carried a lot of the decoration items we would need in stock like large commercial rolls of heavy colored paper. So we put that issue of cost and availability aside. My team could then concentrate on selecting a theme and developing the decoration details; letting me handle the purchasing end.

My father asked me how my big project was going and I told him we were going to be able to do a lot more than they had in the past because I was planning to get all or decorating supplies at the novelty store. Then he threw me a real curve when he suggested I had better call them and make sure they would sell stuff to us because they were a wholesale supplier, and we would be competing with their customers who were in the decorating business.

The next day at school I got permission to call them. Because it was a toll call the class advisor told me to use the phone in the principal's office. I called during the school lunch break because I figured the secretary wouldn't be at her desk, giving me an opportunity to also inquire if they had any more over age or otherwise scrap balloons available as I had bought the previous year when dad and I had been down to get the supplies for the association carnival.

When the owner answered the phone I identified myself as the kid in the Boy Scout uniform who had bought the boxes of old political balloons the year before. Fortunately he had been sufficiently impressed by my bare knee boldness a year earlier that he reluctantly agreed to sell us the decorating supplies. He even took the time to quote me prices on several dozen items and I quickly calculated our costs and give him a list of material to put aside for our order. When we had finished he asked if the scouts enjoyed popping all the balloons I had bought, and I told him, "You better believe it. We've popped off most of them."

This gave me an opening to ask if he had any more and he said he would look around before we came down to pick up our order. I had little doubt that If I hadn't been able to identify myself with him it would have been back to square one with our plans as far as getting materials at wholesale.

Because Bob's family was well to do, they had given him a car a year and a half before when he had gotten his drivers license. Bob and I got permission to take a Thursday afternoon off from school a week before prom night and we drove into the city to the novelty wholesalers. I had made a point of bringing my scout uniform with me and I put it on before we left because I had a hunch the store owner enjoyed seeing me in shorts and I had little doubt it influenced his willingness to sell me all the balloons for next to nothing the previous year.

Bob knew I enjoyed balloons a lot more than most boys do and he had demonstrated on my visits with him some really neat ways balloons could be used to enhance one's masturbation pleasure, so I wasn't too concerned about asking for and buying junk balloons if they had any available. I didn't figure Bob would want any because he was trying to get rid of the balloons he already had in his stash.

I had been saving money from my allowance just for this opportunity. We would return from our trip in sufficient time to unload the decorating supplies at his house and then get me and whatever I bought out to my house before my father and step mom got home.

At wholesale prices our decorating dollar went a long way and as we rounded up all the decorating supplies it was clear that we were going to have the same logistics problem that dad and I had a year earlier. Bob's two door coupe, even with the large trunk, was going to be stuffed. Even knowing most of what we were going to buy, and the owner having it already consolidated in a pile near the door when we arrived, there were still a number of items we found we still had money to buy. To my surprise this also included balloons for Bob's own personal use. He liked the big three footers that went for a dollar a pop so we just added the three dozen he wanted to the twelve we were planning to buy for the prom. He also added in two boxes of large airship balloons to our decorating order because he liked the ones that I had.

We finally got the required business out of the way and I asked the owner if he had any more cheap 'bustin' balloons for the scouts. He said that he had looked around but there were no more scrap printed balloons, I had gotten all they had the previous year. However in his search he had found several dozen boxes of balloons that were over aged and the rubber had gone bad that he had thrown out when he remembered my request and had looked around the warehouse that morning. I immediately said, "Gee, won't they blow up at all. You know they are only going to have to last just last a few minutes in any case."

He said, "I'll show you what they are like. I don't think they will be any good to blow up at all."

The owner quickly returned with a box I immediately identified as the natural rubber stick balloons we sold at our carnival. He opened the full box and handed me a balloon that felt like cardboard. I stretched it in my hands and the rubber softened up. I started blowing it up hoping the rubber wasn't rotted to the point where the balloon wouldn't at least inflate to its rated size. No problem. I had it inflated to about thirteen and a half inches when I decided I had better not push my luck. I didn't want it to pop and shower the guy's showroom floor with a zillion pieces of torn rubber from an over inflation burst. He and Bob were watching me intently and I wondered as I had a year earlier if the owner really got a lot of enjoyment out of a teen age boy wearing short pants blowing up balloons. At that point I said, "These will be fine for what the scouts want to use them for."

The owner disappeared again in to the warehouse and after a minute or two returned with his stock cart piled with a least three dozen gross boxes of the twelve inch balloons. All of the boxes appeared to contain only a single color balloon as opposed to the mixed colors we bought for the carnival. Most of the boxes contained colors that obviously had not been in demand by decorators. I only had twelve dollars with me so I said, "Wow, that is a lot. How much do you want for them."

He thought it over for a minute and replied, "Because of the condition these balloons are in I can't sell them and I already had thrown them out. I can't justify charging the scouts anything for balloons in this condition, so you can just have the whole lot."

Wow! This still left me with my twelve dollars so I told him I would buy a box of the large five foot airship balloons that were listed on his balloon price chart. I think he was beginning to get a tad suspicious at this point so when he returned with the box I told him how much fun the scouts had had shooting some airship balloons around outside that one of the kids had brought in from home.

Getting everything including all the trash balloons in the car proved impossible unless I was willing to take a fifty mile hike, so I reluctantly handed back about one dozen boxes of the trash balloons containing lighter colors, like pink, light blue, and light green that I didn't particularly care for, and we headed for home.

By the time we got the decorations unloaded at Bob's house and he drove me out to my house in the country I had little time to unload my balloons and get them hidden away from my dad and little brother before they would get home. Bob didn't want any of the overage balloons we had been given because he said he had enough in his stock and was beginning to get tired of playing with balloons in any case.

The following Saturday morning I was at the farm show building bright and early at 7:00AM. That morning as I dressed, after evaluating the risks, I decided that I couldn't pass up this one time opportunity to be around the better part of one thousand balloons without the proper attire; therefor I elected to wear my scout shorts with knee socks. I knew I would be going up ladders so I had a pair of white gym shorts underneath to give the girls a chance to see what little I have if they were in the mood to peek.

Most of the crew showed up reasonably on time. The one boy I knew wouldn't show because he had managed to break his leg playing baseball a few days earlier, but the other guy, John, and the seven girls on my crew finally all showed up by 8:00. I was delighted to see that five of the girls were wearing shorts and the other two short skirts. John was short and stocky like me and I would really have loved to see him dressed in shorts while he was blowing up and handling all the balloons. Since I associate bare legs with balloons, even if they are girls legs, I could see that this was going to be a very very good day.

One of the girls was known as LL, which were actually her initials; but depending on the context in which her name was mentioned it also stood for Large Linda or Lotsa Lovin. LL was a large girl, who if she had been wearing the proper colored skin tight outfit would have looked exactly like the picture of Wonder Women on the comics cover. She was a good six foot two inches with a very athletic build. Sans the long blonde hair and the voluptuous bust line she had all the appearances of a male body builder. In fact she was, and had given me the best pointers regarding my barbell workouts at home.

We immediately set to work putting up the decorations. All of the balloon decorating was scheduled for last to minimize the length of time the balloons had to remain inflated. To aid in this task we had commandeered an Electrolux tank type vacuum cleaner and I had fashioned a inflation nozzle that would fit over the hose end. This would hopefully provide most of the inflation requirements, especially for the twelve large three foot balloons we planned to hang from the ceiling.

That morning when I stopped by Bob's house to help him load up our supplies he had talked me into substituting twelve of his war surplus red navy target balloons, which would inflate to well over four feet in diameter in lieu of the multicolored three footers we had bought. I was concerned how well they would hold up considering that they might be as much as ten years old; but he said that they were in sealed packages and he hadn't used any that had burst prematurely for his own pleasure. I realized having them all the same color would be a plus; the ones we had bought only came multicolored and the wholesaler wouldn't sort out a dozen of a single color for us.

It was around 1:00PM by the time we got all the paper decorations installed and it was time to start in on the balloons. The bulk of the balloons were required for two locations. I figured about three gross would go in the balloon drop sheets we had rigged from the center of the ceiling and an additional four gross would be attached to the hundreds of vertical colored strips of paper we had used to wall off the two side areas of the hall. The multicolored balloons would appear like beads attached at various heights to the paper strip walls somewhat like at a balloon dart game. In fact, because the balloons inflated to over 13 inches and the viewer's mind assumed they were far smaller, we achieved the effect that the walls appeared much closer than they actually were, which made the far too large room appear more reasonable in size.

We started on the wall balloons first. LL and one of the girls volunteered to man the Electrolux and the air compressor while the rest of the girls started tying off the balloons as they were inflated. I figured these two weren't afraid of balloons popping and I was right. John and I were inflating the balloons the old fashioned way and it was obvious that he had experienced a few pop in his face before and he was unafraid of over inflation because he started blowing his first few to pear shape. I was going to suggest that they probably wouldn't last if they were that much over inflated when I noted that as he was becoming more winded the balloons he was blowing up were only getting to a more normal size.

The Electrolux was perfect because it couldn't generate enough pressure to burst the balloons; it just blew them to a nice tear drop shape. The air compressor was something else again, and LL soon made a point of seeing how big one of the balloons would go. She gave everybody a big grin when she let one of them go with a thunderous BANG in the cavernous hall. She obviously was a balloon buster. At this point I was hoping the girls wouldn't be able to see how big I could get down below.

We were making great progress with our balloon inflation until I noted that the large pile of inflated balloons lying on the floor that we were creating wasn't our end game; we needed to get them hung on the paper strips along the room dividers we had put up. I assigned the remaining five girls to this task and John and I took over the tie off duties.

Around 2:00 we were all becoming famished since we hadn't eaten since early morning so John and two of the girls went into town to fetch some sandwiches and cokes for all of us from the pharmacy in town that had a soda fountain and lunch bar (No McDonalds in those days). I knew they would be gone awhile and I yielded to a grievous temptation. I just had to see just how much my female assistants were into balloons. In the course of the hour or so we had been inflating balloons we had very few break and only one of those was non-inflation related. The girls stapling the balloons to the paper wall strips were being extra careful or the balloons were more durable then I would have thought. I figured they didn't like popping balloons so my first assumption was probably valid. LL and her balloon blowing assistant had no fear of tightly stretched rubber and the occasional pops didn't faze them in the least or diminish the size of their output.

When the girls hanging the balloons came back to pick up an additional supply I announced it was my turn to bust one. The five girls watched intently as I stood in front of them and blew up the balloon I was working on until it burst. They all began to giggle and LL and two of the others immediately started blowing away by mouth. There was no doubt in my mind about LL's balloon blowing capability but I was impressed how quickly the other two fairly husky girls got their toys to the magic moment. Their balloons popped only a few seconds after LL's. I was well on my way to getting dangerously excited watching them do their destructive work. The last thing I needed was for them to even suspect that I got a sexual high from balloon play.

As the reverberations from the last balloon pop died away the girls had pressed a nice red one in my hand and wanted me to join them in their next balloon busting round. I just couldn't refuse because I had purposely finished one off just a minute or so before; and in any case how could I resist. The four of us started blowing frantically. I wasn't in any mood to be out popped by a girl if I could help it, so I applied my best balloon blowing technique to busting the red beauty that was rapidly expanding in front of my face. However, 'twas to no avail. LL beat me out by a good four seconds. To my shame, I wasn't actually that much farther ahead of the other two girls.

I was expecting a razzing from LL but instead she just smiled at us and said, "I love to break balloons this way. They make the loudest bang, and you never really know when they are going to go."

The other two girls giggled and agreed with her statement. Meanwhile the other two girls that had been watching our balloon popping activity intently had each grabbed one of the balloons we had already inflated from the floor. The first girl squeezed her balloon between the palms of her hands and started scrubbing it at she twisted her hands. The balloon complained loudly as the stretched rubber was further stressed by the friction she was applying to it's thin rubber skin. After listening to the noise from the tortured balloon for a half a minute or so the second girl remarked, "Hay, you know they bust lots easier if you do this to 'em."

With that she slooooowly pressed her long fingernails into the balloon she was holding. They didn't sink in too far before her sharp nails punctured the rubber skin which flew in two large pieces away from her and then fluttered to the floor to join the growing bits and pieces of torn rubber that littered our balloon blow up area.

More giggles as all five of the girls grabbed themselves each a balloon. LL then announced, "Let's each take a turn busting one in our favorite way."

I was beginning to get concerned that I might have started something that was not going to be easily stopped. We had more than a sufficient supply of balloons to indulge in some frivolous popping but I figured we were nearly two hours behind my projected time schedule. Additionally, John and the two other girls would be back shortly and would wonder why, instead of additional balloons being inflated and hung, there was a good deal more torn rubber on the floor. Then again I was about to witness the nirvana of every balloon fetishist, spontaneous female balloon busting. So what if they were girls. They were all wearing shorts and one a short mini-skirt. This would be fun.

The lead off girl dropped her balloon on the floor (she would be here tonight with her senior BF) as she announced, "This is what I'll do to them tonight," as she pressed the heel of her canvas sneaker into the balloon as it tried to roll away from her.

BANG. "They'll pop even easier when I got my high heals on tonight," she added.

More giggles from the audience. The next girl was the one who was the nail popper and she pressed her fingertips into her beautiful blue balloon quickly turning it into additional rubber scraps littering the floor.

While this was going on the third girl had gone over to her pocketbook and retrieved a cigarette which she lit up as she sauntered back toward us announcing. "Hay, now this is the best balloon busting tool there is."

With that she held her balloon up over her head with one hand and applied the burning cigarette with the other. BANG.

"Way to go," one of the girls laughed. "My boy friend loves to do that to every balloon that gets near him."

The forth girl was wearing nice full cut shorts and was the one that squeezed and rubbed her balloon until it popped. She sat herself on the floor with her knees pulled up and pressed and twisted her balloon into her knees. She let it live for a good sixty seconds before it went BANG. Another fifteen more and I surely would have gone SQUIRT along with the pop. Standing there open mouthed I just couldn't get comfortable. I had this tremendous heavy aching feeling in my balls. Even with the loose fitting scout shorts everything felt confined and packed in down below; and so it was.

With all eyes on LL she walked over to one of the folding chairs the balloon inflators had been using. She placed her nice yellow balloon squarely on the seat and proceeded to sit on it, ever so gently. The rubber spread out under her butt with the distended neck stretching out between her legs all the way to the hems of her shorts. She was more than heavy enough to bust it which it did as she allowed all her weight to come down on the hapless toy. Lots of giggles.

The girls really enjoyed LL's performance, so much so that three of the four performed a sit-pop for 'my' pleasure. Only one had to do a little bouncing to get their balloon to break. Giggles after each BANG. The girls were really enjoying themselves. And was I ever enjoying their enjoyment! Phew.

Then they turned their attention to me. "And how does a Boy Scout like to pop balloons," LL smirked. She had caught me by surprise and all I could stammer was, "I like popping balloons any which way. I guess I just like blowin em up 'till they bust."

"Why don't you show us again," LL offered. "I love to see boys in short pants popping balloons that way. Makes them look so grown up."

I quickly went to work on a green balloon one of the girls handed me to hide the major blush I felt. I was so intent on finishing off the balloon that I wasn't paying any attention to my audience who had had a short whispered conference and then moved over next to me. I was surprised that they all would want to be so close to a balloon about to explode. Finally it gave up with a resounding BOOM.

No sooner had the balloon popped then four of the girls yanked me off my feet and before I knew what was going on had me spread eagled flat on my back on the floor. I struggled to break free but with a hefty sixteen year old girl on each arm and leg the best I could manage was to wiggle a bit across the floor.

I demanded to know what the hell they thought they were doing. LL with a balloon in each hand leaned over me and purred, "We just want to have some fun with a Boy Scout who likes balloons."

She kneeled between my spread legs and started to rub the balloons up my legs, over my knees, and up to my crotch area. Laying flat on the floor as I was there was no hiding the bulge in my shorts. The girls were giggling all the while especially when LL scrubbed the balloons on my throbbing cock hiding just below the cotton of my scout and gym shorts. The humiliation of what I was enduring was the only thing that kept me from completely soaking my pants with cum.

The girl holding my left leg remarked, "Hay, what do little boys wear under their short pants?" as she pulled up the hem of my scout shorts revealing the white hem of the gym shorts I was wearing as under pants. She lifted that hem up as well and said, "Ohheee, I can see right up inside."

"Wow, what's up in there?" another of the girls giggled.

"It's all pink and damp," the first one replied.

I again tried to kick free.

One of the other girls remarked, "Hay what is that ridge he's got below his belt?"

LL laughingly replied, "I think they call it a pee-nis."

A roar of laughter. Oh gawd, how am I ever going to get out of this. How am I ever going to be able to face anyone again in school.

"Why don't we take a look see at what equipment a Boy Scout has. He's supposed to be prepared. Lets see if he is. Nervous giggles this time. I made a mighty effort to break free but again no go as LL unbuckled my belt. She unbuttoned the waist button of my scout shorts but was momentarily stymied by the fact that the fly was closed with buttons and not a zipper. Only a miracle could save me from total humiliation. WHERE WAS THE CAVALRY?

Coming in the door at the far end of the building, actually. John and the two girls had returned with our eats and had entered the building through the service door into the kitchen area. Fortunately for all of us they had loudly announced their arrival and remained in the kitchen area as they unloaded our eats. The girls yanked me to my feet and scurried off leaving me to quickly re-button my shorts and cinch up my belt. As John and the two girls came into the main hall we all, except for LL, ran towards them so they didn't see all the rubber debris from our fun. I was hoping LL would find some quick way to clean things up before we got back to work.

As I walked into the kitchen area my face was still crimson, the result of both the embarrassment I had suffered as well as the physical exertions I had made in trying to break free from the girls. John noted my condition and one of the girls that had been holding me to the floor mentioned that I had been blowing up balloons by mouth too fast; which was only remotely true. To my relief that seemed to satisfy everyone. The only problem was I still acutely embarrassed from the humiliation I had suffered even after we had finished eating. I couldn't look any of the girls in the eye and I would have given anything to have been able to get in the car and gotten out of there.

We still had piles of work to do and the fact that we hadn't made too much progress while they were gone was noted by the lunch crew. John made a point of teasing me if I had had fun with the girls while he was gone and my instant red glow answered his question. Fortunately he didn't press me for details. I spent the rest of the afternoon seeing that the remaining five gross of balloons got inflated and the balloon drop cloth and all the rigging was properly set up and operational.

Because of my mental state from embarassment, being around all those balloons and the bare legged girls didn't turn me on one bit. After we had inflated all the party balloons that we could cram into the drop net I dug out the large red balloons we were also going to hang from the ceiling. Not even watching LL apply the Electrolux to the twelve large red target balloons did anything for me, although she was having fun. I got the impression watching her that when they reached their rated diameter of four feet she would have loved to have just kept on inflating. All twelve of the big red beauties inflated without popping and were hung with light string from the ceiling at their prescribed locations.

Since Bob couldn't guarantee the war surplus balloons would all be OK after years of storage we had an extra two as back ups. As I finished hanging the last one I noticed that LL was fondling the large soft rubber bags of the two uninflated spheres in her lap between her legs. Could she? Was she? That did it.

Inhibitions aside, I was headed for another arousal. As I walked up to her she suddenly realized how sensuiously she was handling the thin rubber and she moved to put them aside as I said, "Hey, I wonder just how big those balloons can get. Looks like we aren't going to need these so give one a try."

Wow, I got the biggest smile as she quickly got the Electrolux turned on and the neck of one of the target balloons over the end of the nozzle.

Some of the girls had heard our conversation and moved closer or further away, depending on their fear level of bursting balloons. John wanted to know where I was planning to put the additional balloons and I told him LL was going to blow it up just to see how big it could get before it popped.

"Sounds like fun. I was sorta wondering how big they would get myself," John remarked.

We all stood there mesmerized by the ever expanding globe of red rubber that slowly obscuring LL who was standing facing us. She was holding the nozzle about chest height directly in front of her and I was wondering if she wasn't taking a chance on getting a really good swat in the tits or face depending on how the balloon rubber ripped when it burst. It didn't seem to concern her as the balloon reached the six foot range and completely blocked her from view except through the thin pale red rubber of the overly distended balloon. We all took a good step backward because the skin of the balloon had expanded nearly up against us and who in their right mind beside LL would want to be so near to an object about to explode. I had witnessed the demise of one of these beauties in the same manner during a sleep over at Bob's house back in the fall. In that instance the balloons had been inflated at least two times before it was blown up until it burst so it was even larger than this one would be when it popped.

And explode it did with a deep bass BOOM sound that reverberated through the large hall. The balloon didn't disintegrate into a zillion small pieces as some do when they are over inflated, but just a relatively few. The remainder of the latex carcass fluttered to the floor in several large pieces. LL and the girls giggled and John remarked, "Hey, that was fun. Why don't you bust the other one too, LL?"

She flashed him a smile and said, "One pop like that a day is enough for me."

I was fully inflated myself at this point and I would have enjoyed seeing her finish off another one. If fact I was wishing all my assistants except LL would magically disappear. Then she could play with me all she wanted without having her girl friends hold me down on the floor. What really got me going was when she asked me if she could have the other target balloon to take home. You bet she could. Just visualizing what things she might do with it would keep me going for several weeks.

We finished the decorating and final clean up none to soon as the party hosting crew showed up and started setting up the refreshments and helping the band get their platforms and all their ancillary paraphernalia hauled in and set up. I talked to the kid in charge of the entertainment crew along with our class advisor just how the balloon drop mechanism was supposed to work. I hoped, because we didn't have time to run a full scale check on how well the balloons disgorged, that they would fall in a reasonably even pattern across the floor of the hall.

They both immediately insisted that I had to come back later that night, dressed in a suit not scout shorts, to insure the proper operation of the party finale balloon drop. I was really beat from the long day's work, the stress from the responsibility of getting the decorating task completed, as well as the other balloon related stresses; but I told them I would be back by 10:30 that night. I told Bob, our class president who was also standing there, that he might have to come get me because my dad and step mom would need the car to go to the club as they did most every Saturday night.

When I got home I took a bath and got into the best looking pair of long pants I owned and my one and only sport coat. I drove my parents to the club and then went over to the farm show building to the party. They agreed they would not stay too late and I could pick them up any time after 1:00 AM. After I dropped them at the club and was driving over to the party I was wondering how many of the decoration balloons were still intact. The girls had put the names of all the seniors on some of the hundreds of balloons hanging on our paper wall dividers with the idea that they would find the balloon with their name and take it home far a souvenir; so I expected about a quarter of the decoration balloons would have been removed for this purpose.

When I arrived the prom was still going strong and since extracurricular get togethers was frowned upon by the school authorities most of the seniors appeared to still be there. So did most of our balloons. As I stood around off to the edge snacking on the fancy food I realized I was about to witness the biggest most rubber ripping balloon bust I was ever likely to encounter. I especially wondered what the fate of the twelve large red balloons that were hanging out of reach from the ceiling would be. It would obviously be pop pop because they were far too large inflated to fit in anyone's car. They could be untied if someone wanted to take a minute or two, because the necks were too heavy to knot and were just wrapped tightly and tied with the thin hanging string. During the hour I was there before the balloon drop I heard about three dozen balloon pops. A few that I witnessed were balloons that were disposed of by the girls squeezing them after their dates had pulled them off the wall and handed it to them.

The band's last number was scheduled for 11:30 and I was instructed to release the balloon drop as they started the last dance number. That way most of the seniors would be on the dance floor directly under the drop and would get bombarded with the nearly four gross of balloons we had managed to get to stay in the sheets. This worked out to almost three balloons per dancer. Adding in the decoration balloons along the walls brought the total to nearly seven balloons per person. Assuming at least a third wouldn't consider popping a balloon either out of dislike or appearing childish, it gave those that enjoy popping balloons and average of about ten to destroy each. I was seriously concerned that I would not be able to contain myself. My good pair of longies I was wearing did not have much frontal expansion room and my boner that I was surely going to have would be difficult to hide.

Finally the magic moment arrived. I was so tense because it had to work right the first time. The drop operation was tricky because there were two control strings that had to operate together in just the right sequence. The one controlled the edge suspension of the drop sheets and the other three centrally located points in the drop sheets. By properly lowering and raising the edges and center of the drop sheets my engineering calculations indicated we could achieve a reasonable distribution of falling balloons over about the central third of the hall floor. The key was not to panic and rush it; let the rubber orbs spill out slowly then faster and faster finally dropping the remainder straight down to the floor directly beneath the drop sheet. I manipulated my control strings according to plan and damn if it didn't drop the whole load of balloons in a wide dispersion exactly the way I planned. I had literally pulled off my first successful engineering project.

The balloons floated down on the heads of the dancers like a gentle latex rain. Many of them grabbed them as they reached shoulder height but there were so many it was impossible to corral more than two or three per couple. A third or more of the dancers were caught up in their togetherness oblivious of the toys falling down around them, so the bulk of the balloons found their way to the floor between the slowly swaying couples.

It didn't take but a moment for the pop pop pops to start; the balloons doing what all balloons are intended to do in their pretty but brief lives. Nothing livens up a party like the sounds of balloons busting; not even a super formal staid affair like a senior prom. There is something about tightly stretched rubber suddenly tearing that brings out the destructive kid like nature in most people. Guys in their penguin suits and gals in their flowing ball gowns suddenly were caught up in a balloon busting free for all frenzy.

This wasn't the case with all the couples of course. Several quickly made their way off to the side, many after picking up one or two balloons, as they plowed through the layer of bouncing balloons that were dancing around on the floor, taking pains it appeared not to step on any. I had to assume they were either deathly afraid of being around exploding rubber bags or more likely didn't want to expose their innate childish nature as their classmates were; who were running around gleefully destroying every balloon they could get their hands or feet on just like the seven and eight year old kids did at my friend Harry's birthday party some ten years earlier.

The staccato bang bang bang of bursting balloons reverberated through the large hall. The place sounded like a war zone with machine gun fire. Where to look! Where to look! Oh how I wished they would slow down and take turns busting them so this precious moment would last.

The seniors initially attacked the nearly four gross of balloons I had just rained down on them. At first many couples caught the balloons as they fell or immediately picked some up from the floor. In most cases where they popped their balloons I saw the girls finish them off by squeezing their long nailed fingers into the thin rubber. The guys just supplied them with their next victims.

The majority of the kids were stompers; too lazy to bend over and pick up the balloons they just crushed the helpless toys under their shoes. There were two distinct stomping styles; the ones that danced about on one leg while stomping willy-nilly often missing the balloons altogether or coming down on the side of them causing them to squirt out from under their foot, and the deliberate crushers who captured their victims and pressed down more deliberately. Of the later there were flatteners who used the sole of their shoe and the heel stabbers.

Again to my surprise it was mostly the gals that initiated the coup-de-Gras. Their consorts for the most part rounded up the balloons in the vicinity by pushing them along with their foot under the waiting high heeled pumps. The thin rubber was no match for the small area of the spike heels, and from what I could see, the balloons didn't begin to flatten out at all before they went; they burst about the same as if they had been jabbed with a pin, unlike the ones the guys or the girl crushers stomped which flattened out surprisingly far before they popped from the over pressure. My problem with all the balloons popped this way was I couldn't see too much because the low full gowns tended to conceal the last moment of the balloon's life. I often only saw the torn remains flying out from underneath the giggling girls.

After about a minute most of the balloons from the drop were just so much rubber confetti scattered over the center section floor and the now totally uninhibited seniors took note of the large red target balloons dangling overhead. They had been specifically hung high enough so they couldn't be grabbed although if you jumped up under them you could stab them with your finger or burn them with a cigarette. The first two to go went this way emitting a deep phoom phoom as the low pressure high volume rubber bags ripped asunder; the thin torn latex sheets hanging grotesquely from the necks still attached to their support strings.

The remaining ten large balloons faired better; they got to last an additional minute or so. A couple of the beefier guys hoisted their partners to their shoulders who were then high enough to get their arms around the balloons and able to pull hard enough to snap the support strings. They then tossed the now loose balloons out over the melee. Because these balloons were so large relative to their weight they really floated about the high ceilinged hall. When they dropped close enough to be batted by the frenzied mob a sort of super slo mo game of volleyball ensued. Many of the players, again it seemed to be mostly the girls, preferred to see the big beautiful toys destroyed. They gouged them with their fingernails, used cigarettes even though there was supposed to be no student smoking in the building, or in one case swatted one with the sharp heel of her shoe. One by one I heard the deep phoom as another one burst. All the while interspersed with the sharp pop pop pops of the smaller balloons.

One of the large balloons escaped from the crowd and slowly bounced its way toward a gawky looking kid and his date. For some inexplicable reason the jerk visualized the four foot diameter balloon as a soccer ball headed his way putting him in a position to score the winning goal in a world cup soccer match. He quickly spun from his girl, raced four quick strides to the oncoming balloon, and gave it a mighty kick burying his rented glossy black wing tip shoe, with the smooth leather sole designed to glide through a minuet across a dance floor, deep into the soft red rubber. The balloon disintegrated with the large rubber sheeting flying away from him along with the shoe which sailed in a nice high arc and hit another kid in the back of the head thirty feet down the hall. Meantime all his kinetic energy that wasn't dissipated in the least by the balloon caused his other leg to skid out from under him and he landed with a thud on his ass and proceeded to travel in the same general direction. His date apparently pissed herself laughing because she made a quick run in the direction of the rest rooms even before he got himself off the floor.

During the balloon volleyball some of the kids set to work on the decoration balloons we had hanging from the paper divider strips along the walls. The more efficient ones lit up cigarettes and just walked along allowing the glowing tip to burn the balloons as they came upon them. It made it easy to reach and bust the ones in the upper and lower tiers which were about seven and two and a half feet above the floor. Several of the girls were just grabbing the ones at chest level and giving them the fingernail gouge; not as efficient but just as effective. A few of the die hard stompers took the trouble to have their guys rip them off the paper so they could step on them.

Pop, pop, pop. Man was I psyched. It took less than four minutes to burst about ten gross of balloons. The few that remained were in hand and obviously headed home. As I expected, non of the large balloons survived. Their remains were easy to spot as large red sheets of rubber strewn about on the floor near the point where they died.

The prom quickly broke up and all that was left was the clean up crew which appeared to have several no shows and a major mess on their hands. I suddenly realized what a large mass of torn rubber was lying about on the floor and how much I would enjoy watching it all go up in smoke so I quickly commandeered the wide dust broom and quickly consolidated the loose latex into a massive pile in one corner. I found two large shopping bags which I filled with the torn rubber. One kid asked me why I didn't wait until they had pulled down all the decorations and just swept up one time and I thought to tell him that you shouldn't burn the rubber with the rest of the paper decorations because of the smell. He thought it was a good idea that I take it home and throw it out with our garbage. I hustled the bags outside and put them where they wouldn't get mixed in with the other trash that we would be collecting.

Although I was dead tired I didn't want anyone to think I was only interested in scarping up the busted balloons, so I stayed an additional hour until the clean up was finished.

By the time I drove into town to the club it was about 1:00 AM. I rang the intercom and told the bartender that my dad's chauffeur was waiting. He and my step mom knew I would be dead tired and thankfully they came out immediately. Dad drove us home.

After church the next day dad indicated we had garbage to go to the dump which we normally would have done on Saturday except I had the car. I suddenly remembered the two large bags of busted balloons that were still in the trunk and I made a point of hustling the two garbage cans in before he came out of the house. I figured I could explain why I had all the busted balloons the same way I did during the clean up 12 hours earlier; but I really wanted to see that big heap of rubber burning and boiling away. I might never get a chance to burn such a large pile of balloon rubber at one time again. On the way he queried me how the prom had gone and specifically how well the balloon drop had worked. I filled him in on all the details while trying not to sound too excited about witnessing the most glorious balloon busting experience of my life. Knowing my balloon induced sexual stimulation it probably didn't matter because as we pulled into the dump he asked me flat out if I had a good hard on watching the kids busting all those balloons. I replied most affirmative.

When we pulled up to the edge where you would toss your garbage over he helped me unload and dump the garbage cans and of course noticed the two large paper bags crammed in the back of the car trunk. I pulled them out and showed him the mounds of multicolor rubber sheeting. A large foot square or more sheet of red rubber from one of the large balloons was near the top in one bag and I pulled it out and handed it to him so he would get some idea of how big the target balloons really were. He fingered the soft thin rubber sheet and then started stretching it over his fingernails until they punctured through and the rubber sheet ripped. While he was doing this he asked me what I was planning to do with all this rubber and I replied, "Well I know you like to watch rubber burn and I do as well. That's what they were going to do with it anyway, so I though I would just bring it home and get a little more enjoyment watching it go up in flames."

Dad looked at me sternly and said, "What the hell makes you think I like to see rubber burn? But you are right. The rubber I would like to see burn is all those balloons you've got hidden at home, and I don't mean after they have been broken either. You are not doing yourself any favor long term by using balloons, and I suspect those shorts you are wearing, as a substitute for normal sexual desires. I think it's time for you to have a big bonfire with all your silly stuff that I will be happy to watch."

Was I and my fetishes in deep trouble or what? I didn't know how to respond. Even if I didn't show any sign of agreement with his assessment of my sexuality he could still demand that I put a torch to my beloved toys and short pants. I was still hung up on watching the two large bags of rubber burn as I blurted out, "Can't we just watch this rubber burn for now?"

"Why," dad snapped back. "If you watch this stuff burn you won't be able to wait until you get home to play with yourself."

His true assessment of my condition, nonetheless, pissed me off as I retorted, "Actually I would like to have you do it to me while I watch."

This was in direct reference to the outcome of our intense one on one balloon play when we had gone on a long hike some nine months earlier. Dad gave me a nasty look and said, "I don't think so. You have gotten enough enjoyment out of these balloons already watching them getting busted. We'll burn them to get rid of them so no one will wonder where they all came from, but then we are leaving and you will just have to imagine exactly how they went. Here's my lighter. Now get rid of them now."

I applied the flame to the bottom edge of each of the two bags. The paper quickly burned away exposing the compressed pile of rubber sheeting inside the edges of which started burning and dripping black burning rubber on the ground. We turned away and got in the car and left. I looked back when we were about a mile from the dump like Lot's wife. I could easily see the rising cloud of dense black smoke. Fortunately for me my fetishes didn't receive the same fate when we got home. I made a point of staying around the house within dad's sight so he wouldn't think I couldn't control my sexual drive.

Postlog:
The following Monday I had to face my high school friends. There was no way the humiliating incident wouldn't be the number one topic of conversation at school. Worse, everyone would soon know how quickly I had gotten a real boner on just from playing around with rubber kid's toys. It would be a major embarrassment for the family and especially dad. When he hadn't insisted that I destroy all my fetishes, balloons as well as my shorts, I had promised him that I would take every precaution to keep my unusual interest in these items secret. If he had destroyed them at least I wouldn't have had any scout shorts to wear that certainly aided in my sexual exposure. The balloon play with the girls would have still turned me on, however.

To my surprise when I got to school the initial comments related to what a great job we had done in decorating the hall for the prom. Later in the day as word spread about the girls attack, instead of being humiliated by the guys, all they wanted to know was how did an antisocial geek like me get five of the most desirable girls in the school to attack him. Instead of razzing me why I had a thing for toy balloons they were only interested in what I did with them to get the girls so turned on. I swear I could have held a balloon play and busting class with all the jocks in school that would be more than happy to rub them and pop them if that was what it took to get the attention they thought I had gotten.

To add icing to the cake, LL was genuinely apologetic for instigating the girls in attacking me in such a humiliating way. She indicated they were all totally embarrassed as to what they had done and would be happy to keep the whole incident quiet. She said they did not connect the balloon play directly to my far too obvious sexual stimulation at the time. Although LL and I were friends, we only had contact during the time we were in school, and she went on to explain that she thought we had a lot in common and she really would like to get to know me better. To that end she asked me to take a hike with her up in the mountains to some land her father owned the following Saturday.        Rev. Date 4/03.
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