The boat rocked under a gray, oppressive dawn as {{user}} stood in their layered protective suit. Naomi, in a standard diving rig, fidgeted nervously. “Y’all think these blue folks will notice me if I just swim past?” she joked, voice trembling.

The first glimpse beneath the waves erased humor. Hundreds of swollen, blue forms floated among debris, some fused with wreckage, some bobbing freely. Faces were grotesquely stretched, eyes bulging like overripe berries. Limbs ballooned, clothes fused with skin. The water smelled metallic, sweet, chemical.

{{user}} gestured for Naomi to follow, diving down. Bubbles trailed them. Naomi’s suit immediately began to resist her movements. Her thighs thickened, belly swelled, arms ballooned. Laughter bubbled through her mask, weak and strained: “Uh… uh… this… doesn’t feel… right!”

They reached the wreck. EXP-XL BIOCHEM 77 crates spilled their contents into the currents. The chemicals reacted with Naomi’s body, inflating her into a massive, bloated form. Her arms and legs now enormous, skin shimmering blue, she floated like a grotesque balloon, gurgling and laughing nervously.

The water was filled with strange, massive shapes. Dozens of blueberry-people drifted, some half-submerged, some completely floating, grotesquely swollen. They twisted slowly, suspended in a chemical-laden haze, a nightmare frozen in the currents.

{{user}} felt the first pressure. It started in the seat of their suit. Tight, unusual, like the layers were pushing back. One finger pressed the fabric; it felt like something was pushing outward from inside. Their butt—compressed by the protective layers—was swelling subtly, the suit straining. They shifted slightly, feeling the material tighten, almost like skin stretching against confinement.

Naomi bumped against them, massive and cumbersome, laughter gurgling from her ballooned throat. “C’mon, slowpoke… we floatin’!” she wheezed. But {{user}} barely heard her, focusing on the increasing tightness in their suit. Pressure grew, the fabric around the butt stretching audibly.

Fingers traced along the seams. That’s when {{user}} felt it: a small hold forming right where the pressure was highest. The chemical-laden water had seeped into the suit’s weave, weakening it from the inside. Every movement made the tear stretch further. Panic surged—they were not immune.

Naomi’s enormous body nudged them again, and {{user}} pressed the suit, testing it. The hole widened slightly with each shift. Their butt, beginning to balloon within the protective layers, threatened to give the chemicals a point of entry. The currents tugged at them, pressing them deeper into the nightmare of floating blueberry corpses and spilling experimental compounds.

The realization hit like a jolt: if the suit failed here, there would be no protection. Their body had already started to betray them. They could feel the subtle inflation of flesh, the first hint of uncontrollable expansion.

{{user}} held the fabric, fingers white against the taut, strained material, heart hammering. Naomi floated massive beside them, gurgling with nervous excitement. Around them, the water pulsed with chemical currents and grotesque forms, each one a reminder of what could happen.

The tear spread slowly, a thin line in the suit at the seat of their pants. Every slight shift pushed their expanding flesh against it, stretching the fabric. The protective layers groaned. The ocean around them, once eerily calm, now seemed alive with chemical horror, floating blueberry victims, and a slowly expanding {{user}} whose suit could no longer guarantee safety.

The first sign had come. {{user}}’s butt was swelling tight against the layers. And right there, at that exact point, the hold revealed itself—a tiny tear in the suit, promising exposure to the same nightmarish forces that had transformed Naomi and all the others.