It was funny, really - had Night Strike been tending to the Stork, and in her usual hangar that day, Parchment might not have tripped. Even if she had tripped, then, in that hangar, all she would’ve fallen on was a beanbag chair laying over in the corner - there was no need for an air compressor in the Stork’s hangar, because it simply didn’t require one. The skid-style landing gear was much simpler and more robust than any rubber tire, even if it made landings a bit rougher. But, alas, the aircraft that was to occupy this new hangar in fact would end up having wheeled landing gear, so the compressor was installed as future planning. As for why it was already charged with air though, that’s anyone’s guess…
 
Parchment wasn’t at all unfamiliar to the taste of a rubber hose in her mouth, this time at least mercifully without the stickiness of duct tape accompanying it, but that was small comfort against the torrent of compressed air that was blasting down her throat from it. Dazed from the impact, she had wasted precious moments as her stomach quickly ballooned out with the pressure, lifting her up off of the cold concrete flooring. It wasn’t too long after that she felt the pressure rapidly seeking other avenues of expansion, her shapely backside being the second to start to swell out, rounding and squeaking together as her cutie marks were stretched with her growing hide.
 
By the time she’d managed to come to her senses finally, the pressure was already beginning to work it’s way to her outer extremities. The all-too-familiar sensation of stiffening in her legs was becoming ever more apparent as she tried desperately to get a hold on the offending hose, her efforts being in vain as the continued airflow eventually forced her limbs to splay out. They too rapidly began to swell with the air, growing into little more than useless balloons she might be able to wriggle back and forth a few inches, leaving only her muffled voice to try and defend against the continued swelling.
 
Meanwhile, Night Strike was rummaging through the piles of tools she’d been putting away, looking for something. She knew she’d had it earlier - after all, had to have been able to get the motorbug to carry the tools and stuff over somehow - but now she needed to take the little cider-guzzling two-thirds-track out on a much longer trip. The continued hissing and muffled whining behind her was drowned out by the loud clattering, until she finally found the small keyring she needed, wearing a grin. “Alright Parchment, don;t you worry, we’ll have that curse of yours taken care of before you can say~~”
 
The pegasus finally turned herself around, being greeted with the sight of the helplessly ballooning earth pony in the hangar, compressor hissing away. Parchment Bleach flailed her forehooves and muffledly cried out to get Night Strike’s attention, the pegasus only returning a look of annoyance to the ballooned pony ahead of her. “Oh for crying out loud, Parchment, now is not the time for you to be exploring all the fun there is to be had with ballooning up your new equipment and all. Quit goofing around, we need to get going before it gets too dark. One he falls asleep at night, he is out like a light…”
 
Night Strike trotted over to the hose, grabbing hold of the long thing and giving it a firm, forceful yank. The nizzle finally dislodged itself from Parchment’s mouth, a blast of air erupting from it as the earth pony began to deflate, the jet only being forceful enough to cause her to rock back upon her slowly shrinking belly. Nevertheless, the rush of air and sensation of deflation served well enough to leave her in a daze again, flopping to the ground below thoroughly exhausted.
 
A long sigh leaving her lips, Night Strike did her best to pick up the now normally-sized mare, dragging her along over to the back doorway where the motorbug was parked up. Making as sure as she could that Parchment wouldn’t drop off of the back as they drove along first, the pegasus hopped herself into the driver’s seat, turning the ignition and starting up the small cider engine. With a small roar, the small tracked vehicle peeled out of the airfield grounds, turning towards the northern mountain ranges. She was definitely not brave enough to try and drive the thing up the paths like Static could, so that just left one other option on hand.
 
She looked back to the resting mare behind her ~~ egh, sorry about this Parchment, hope you aren’t afraid of heights…