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A lone figure, bound and eager, lies on a cold, sterile table. The room echoes with the rhythmic sound of a pump, filling his stomach with water until it stretches taut, the skin glistening and marked with stretch-marks. His navel pops out, a tiny, vulnerable target amidst the bloated expanse. He groans, a mix of pain and pleasure, as the water gurges within, threatening to burst. With each pump, his body convulses, the potbelly swelling, ready to explode in a symphony of relieved burps.