This Sentient Thanksgiving Parade Float Eats Me Right

While most people enjoy the Borson’s Thanksgiving Day Parade from the comfort of their own home, Jenny loves to wake up early and head downtown to watch the marchers and floats in person. Her favorite sight, however, are the massive parade balloons.

This year, one of these balloons catches Jenny’s eye more than usual: a giant inflatable turkey named Rosie. They hit it off right away, but soon this couple encounter several obstacles that make dating tough between a human and a living object.

Fortunately, gratitude brings them back together, culminating in a hardcore lesbian encounter that will make everyone thankful for the Tingleverse, and each other.

This erotic tale is 4,100 words of sizzling human on sentient parade balloon action and lesbian inflatable turkey love.

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THIS SENTIENT THANKSGIVING PARADE FLOAT EATS ME RIGHT

By Chuck Tingle

Growing up in New York, I’ve had my fair share of traditions. Sometimes they’re simple enough, a certain pizza place I always like to hit up after some major accomplishment, or a particular street I walk home on that takes a little longer but just feels right. Other times these traditions require a lot of planning, dedication, and a very early wakeup call on a frigid Thursday morning in November.

       While most people know the Borson’s Thanksgiving Day Parade as a classic televised event, my connection to this event is a little more up close and personal. Ever since I was a child, I’ve gone down to the streets to watch the parade in person, waving at the floats as they glide by and gazing up at the massive balloons above.

       Back in the early days, it was easy enough to get a spot by the side of the road. Sure, you’d have to rise at the crack of dawn, but the actual scene was much less chaotic than one might think. Over time, however, the crowds have gotten larger and more aggressive, the pushing and shoving reaching levels that were downright frightening sometimes.

       Fortunately, the organizers have started to partition off various areas, only allowing a certain amount of people inside so that nobody gets trampled. It’s still chaotic, and you still need to get up early, but it doesn’t feel quite as dangerous.

       I climb up the stairs of my subway stop and immediately cut across the street, weaving through the cabs that have diverted over here now that there’s one less main lane across town. Once I’m on the other side, I join a small collective on the same mission that I am. We’re all walking particularly fast, even for New Yorkers.

       “Jenny! Jenny!” a voice calls out.

       I know exactly who it is, glancing over to see that my friend Amanda is running up to fall into step beside me. She’s not as much of a Thanksgiving Day veteran as I am, but recently she’d joined in on this annual tradition and I’m grateful for the company. ‘Tis the season, I guess.

       The two of us are now approaching the main street where this notorious parade takes place, the crowds getting portioned out into various blocks and then closed off from the others. People are waving us onward, calling out instructions in hurried voices.

       Things get a little complicated from here, the crowd pushing this way and that, but eventually we find ourselves directed towards a nearby barricade.

       I can’t believe our luck. Most of the time there’s a slight bit of chance regarding where you end up, an earlier arrival guaranteeing you a good spot, but not necessarily a great spot. This year, however, Amanda and me have found ourselves in an incredible position, placed right at the front row so that there’s nothing separating us and the parade as it cruises by.

       “Yes! This is so cool!” Amanda shouts, gazing up and down the block with excitement.

       There’s not much to see right now, just frantic organizers, camera operators, and security guards running around trying to keep the path clear and get the viewers into their various locations. Eventually, however, this whole street will be packed with a magical assortment of ornate parade floats and excited marchers.

       Despite our early arrival, the wait seems to fly by. It’s not long before the city is waking up, sun rising over a distant horizon and painting this already beautiful landscape with its warm, golden glow. The crispness in the air that had once seemed so annoying has now taken on a very important quality, somehow reflecting the light in a specific and important way.

       The workers begin to take on a different mood, less frantic and more dialed in until, eventually, sounds of “here we go!” and “they’re coming!” start dancing across our ears.

       I can hear music playing in the distance, the sound of a marching band echoing through this mass of enormous glass skyscrapers that loom around us in every direction. The whole crowd has turned their attention to a fixed point down the block, a bend in the parade route that, for now, remains empty.

       I can feel the anticipation building within me, the tension bubbling up at the pit of my stomach. It takes up more and more space until, finally, it’s released in an excited cheer when the first parade float comes rumbling around the distant corner. The whole street erupts in applause at its arrival, watching as the float drifts closer and closer.

       The display itself isn’t much to write home about, a generic “fall season” arrangement of orange and brown leaves with a few dancing pumpkins and some corn on the cobs, but it sets the mood.

       What comes next genuinely takes my breath away, however.

       The first massive parade balloon makes its entrance, towering high above the floats and marchers as it drifts between the buildings. This is my favorite part of these festivities, and while the central premise of some bulbous latex characters filled with helium isn’t particularly novel at this point in my life, I still find the balloons nothing short of breathtaking.

       Leading the parade is a giant balloon in the shape of an astronaut. The spaceman’s mask is pulled back to reveal a grinning green dinosaur within. Six ropes hang down from the body, held tight by marchers who have been tasked with directing this giant creation and keeping it from floating away.

       More and more revelers continue down the block, showing off an assortment of floating characters. Amanda and me find ourselves pointing at the ones we like, excited by every little detail as we shout over the noise of the crowd and the hammering marching band drums.

       “I love the flying butt over there!” Amanda says, motioning towards a massive depiction of Portork, one of the first flying rumps to gain sentience on our timeline. “Which one is your favorite?”

       Her question is a big one, so I take my time with it. Plenty of these sights are an absolute joy, but selecting a single one that’s the best of the best is a tall order. I’ve found myself with an abundance of riches here, each and every balloon offering something unique.

       My eyes scan the joyful, seasonal scene, hunting for that one thing that sticks out above the rest.

       Suddenly, my eyes stop, a faint gasp escaping my throat as I’m struck by an unexpected vision.

       An incredible, majestic balloon floats towards us. It’s a simple depiction of a cartoonish turkey, something that’s usually quite stock at an event like this. Logically speaking, I shouldn’t be this taken by such a standard balloon, especially as a vegetarian who loves the Thanksgiving holiday but hates the turkey-based carnage that comes with it.

       Fortunately, this isn’t a flesh and blood bird, but a latex approximation.

       It’s not the design itself that has me so locked in, however. This particular balloon is sentient, featuring a large smiling face that protrudes from its bright red stomach. The face is absolutely gorgeous, a smiling woman who gazes joyfully out at the audience, offering nods and winks as she connects with this adoring crowd.

       “That one,” I say confidently, gesturing towards the giant turkey.

       “Oh my God,” Amanda sighs. “She’s beautiful.”

       As the balloon drifts closer I suddenly realize that I’ve been staring awkwardly and unmoving. I abruptly spring into action, waving and cheering as the massive inflated turkey makes its approach.

       Act natural. Don’t be weird.

       I watch as the balloon’s eyes dart around, acknowledging various people in the crowd.     Suddenly, her gaze locks onto mine.

       The awkwardness immediately comes flooding back, but this time I’m not alone. The balloon appears to be just as dumbstruck as I am, connecting on a level that’s much more potent than I expected. I’m trying my best to not read into things, but I’d be lying if I denied the spark that I feel flickering between us.

       Then, just as quickly as this connection arrived, it dissipates. The parade is long and this massive turkey has places to be. She blinks a few times, then floats onward.

       Not once does she glance back.

       I try my best to keep this abrupt departure from crushing my mood, but it’s hard not to feel the disappointment as it surges through my veins.

       “Was that a moment?” Amanda asks.

       I shake my head. “I… don’t know,” I admit, then let out a long sigh. “I don’t think so.”

       My friend places a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

       Suddenly, I notice a figure running back down the street towards us. He’s bobbing and weaving through the marchers, trying his best to stay out of everyone’s way while keeping a decent pace.

       As the man moves closer, I notice that he’s clad in a dark uniform, one that I’d noticed just moments earlier. He’s one of the people tasked with holding onto the turkey balloon’s ropes, just momentarily breaking off from the pack.

       “Hey!” the man calls out, hurrying over. He hands me a folded piece of paper. “Rosie wanted me to give you this.”

       “Rosie?” I question.

       “The turkey balloon,” the man replies, then immediately turns and runs off in the direction from which he came. I watch as he eventually rejoins his group, then turn to exchange amazed glances with Amanda.

       I slowly open up the note, revealing Rosie’s phone number and two simple words: call me.

Back on Thanksgiving morning I’d been overwhelmed with anticipation and excitement, but it was nothing compared to this. The basic feeling is similar, I’ll admit, cultivating the same effects on my trembling body, but now there’s actually something to lose.

       Now, I have a good impression to make.

       I show up to the restaurant a few minutes early, strolling up as casually as possible and doing everything I can to make it seem like this is just another date.

       Rosie and me are meeting up at a downtown eatery called Tingle &Thyme, a hip new place I’ve been hearing great things about but haven’t had a chance to check out for myself. It’s on the fourth floor of the building that I’m currently approaching, and as I head towards the rotating doors out front, I find myself struck by an alarming realization.

       How the hell is Rosie going to fit inside?

       My date is a giant, sentient Thanksgiving parade balloon, and while I’m sure she could deflate herself slightly in an attempt to fit, the floor to ceiling space in this structure is just way too tight.

       Doubt erupts through me, my mind immediately jumping to the most devastating and unfortunate conclusions. Maybe I’m being stood up. Maybe this whole thing is just some elaborate practical joke from the man who passed me that note.

       Still, I’ve come too far to turn around now.

       I enter the building, strolling through the lobby and arriving at an elevator bay. Soon enough, I’m traveling upward to the fourth floor, then stepping out into the lobby area of this rather glamourous restaurant.

       “Can I help you?” the hostess asks.

       “Uh, yeah,” I reply. “I’m meeting a date here.”

       “Name?”

       “Rosie.”
       The second I say this, the demeanor of the hostess changes. She instantly becomes a little warmer, smiling and then nodding excitedly. “Right this way,” she says, grabbing two menus and then leading me deeper into the restaurant. “We’ve got a very special table for you.”

       We continue along, weaving through the crowded main seating area and then arriving at a nicer, more private, section. It’s here that I’m lead into a smaller room, one positioned at the edge of the building with a small window that would typically look out across the city.

       Not tonight, however, because tonight there’s a giant parade balloon floating right outside.

       A table has been pulled up to the window, with a single chair and a flickering candle in the middle for a bit of ambience.

       “Hey there!” Rosie says.

       “Oh! Hi!” I reply. “I wasn’t sure how this would work.”

       I walk over and give her a hug, leaning out the window a bit and wrapping my arms around her. From here, I can see that the balloon wranglers are all hanging out on the street below, chatting amongst themselves while they hold onto Rosie’s dangling ropes.

       “Don’t mind them,” the sentient balloon assures me. “They can’t hear anything from all the way down there.”

       I pull back into the window and take a seat in my chair. “This is really nice. Thanks for giving me your number.”

       “Thanks for calling it!” the sentient parade balloon laughs.

       “Of course I called it!” I reply. “You’re… you.”

       “Well, that’s very kind to say,” Rosie blushes. “Not very many people are interested in dating a parade balloon. There’s a lot that comes along with it.”

       I hadn’t considered that, but I guess she’s right. Wherever she goes, there’s always a gathering of people down below holding her in place. Every little activity takes a special bit of extra attention.

       “Yeah, I didn’t think of that,” I reply. “So… they go everywhere with you?”

       “Most places,” the sentient balloon replies. “Not everywhere, though. At night, they usually tie me off and go home. So, you know, if I had someone over…”

       She trails off as she says this, but the implication is clear. This might otherwise feel like a pretty big swing so early on a date, but I don’t mind. In fact, I like it.

       It’s one thing to come on strong when you’re not sure how the other person will react, but right now there’s no question of the erotic pull between us. The buzz was there on Thanksgiving when we met out on the street, and it’s right here with us in this darkened restaurant.

       I suddenly start to laugh. “I don’t often have my dates start with everyone saying how thankful they are to be here.”

       The sentient balloon shrugs. “Why not? If you’re grateful for something, then say it.”

       It’s a good point, one that kicks off an hour of deep, riveting conversation between Rosie and me. We fall into it easily, talking like two old friends who have a million things to catch up on and not nearly enough time.

       She’s correct about the people holding her ropes, too. Eventually, I forget they’re even there.

       Finally, when the food is eaten and the bill is paid, Rosie asks me one simple question. “Would you like to come back to my place?”

       “Absolutely,” I reply.

       “We can walk from here.”

       I head back down to the street level and hurry around the building, joining Rosie and her handlers and then beginning the trek to her place just a few blocks away. The sentient balloon is too high up for us to chat at the moment, but that doesn’t really matter. I’m just happy to be in her presence, enjoying the way that it feels to have her floating above me.

       Eventually we arrive at a large brick building, stopping next to the fire escape.

       “Here we are,” one of Rosie’s helpers says. “You can climb up over there. We’re all headed home for the night.”

       With that, the crew takes their ropes and ties them off on various objects down below—a tree, a fire hydrant, a guardrail—then they stroll off into the night.

       I make my way over to the fire escape then begin the climb, slowly trudging up the metal staircase that winds back and forth over and over again. Eventually, I find Rosie waiting for me, along with an additional surprise. What I didn’t expect was this incredible view.

       The two of us gaze out at the city, watching as it stretches on and on. We’re not quite high enough to see everything from here, but a few of these lanes through the buildings open up to reveal the water beyond, and a cascade of glorious twinkling stars above.

       “Wow,” is all I can think to say, this single word slipping out from between my lips.

       “Wow is right,” the sentient parade balloon offers, turning her massive turkey body towards me.

       The two of us hesitate as the tension builds, then lean in and kiss deeply. A charge of erotic satisfaction pulses through me, swept away by this moment. My hands immediately begin to roam their way across her giant latex body, and while there’s only a small part of her grand topography that I can reach from here, the area that I’m given to work with is endlessly satisfying.

       Rosie caresses me in turn, hands sprouting from her inflated frame and reaching out to work across my body. She strips away my clothing, slowly removing each piece and then tossing it to the side. As my body is gradually exposed to the night air, I find myself trembling even harder, not because of the chill, but from my erotic anticipation of what lies ahead.

       It’s not long before I’m completely naked before her, but right now my attention is facing anywhere but inward. I want to give Rosie as much pleasure as she can possibly take. I want her to make her feel amazing. I want to…

       “Where’s your pussy,” I murmur, pulling back from our kiss just long enough to ask this very important question.

       Rosie smiles. “One floor down.”

       I immediately spring into action, turning and descending the fire escape. When I reach this new level, I find myself gazing up at my parade balloon lover from just below her, and it’s here that I notice her pussy. Rosie pushes up against the fire escape, tilting her body back and exposing her most sensitive area.

       I reach up and begin to rub her gently, starting slowly at first as I noting the way that her body reacts to my touch. Rosie lets out a long, satisfied sigh, pushing back against me with her hips in a gradual, steady swoop. It’s not long before the two of us have fallen into a healthy pace, my fingers moving back and forth across Rosie’s parade balloon clit.

       “Oh fuck, that feels so good,” she groans. “Just like that.”

       I lock in with the rhythm of my right hand, then add my other to the mix. I slip two fingers into her, filling her up and creating a distinctly new sensation. Rosie’s body reacts accordingly, hunching over a bit as her senses are pushed to the limit. This only escalates when I lean up and replace my hands with my tongue, diving in and lapping away her with hungry enthusiasm.

       “Fuck!” Rosie shrieks, struggling to contain herself. She grips the side of the fire escape, holding on tight as she reckons with the powerful sensations that pulse through her inflated frame.

       I can feel her body clenching tighter and tighter, the tell-tale sign of an impending orgasm, and moments later my suspicions are confirmed when Rosie leans back and lets out a frantic, unbridled howl that carries through the night. I don’t stop, carrying her through the entirety of her orgasm and only stopping the movements of my tongue when she collapses back against the fire escape, panting with exhaustion.

       It only takes a moment for her to regain her composure, however. The next thing I know, Rosie is back in action, gazing down at me with a mischievous look on her face. “Now it’s your turn. Get up here.”

       I do as I’m told, climbing back up to my original floor of the fire escape. I’m face to face with Rosie once again, but it’s not my face that she’s interested in.

       “Turn around,” the sentient parade balloon commands.

       Slowly, seductively, I shift my body so that I’m facing away from her. I sway my hips from side to side a moment, allowing her to get a good look at me, then bend over slightly. I pop my ass out towards her, then scoot back until my pussy is right there in front of her face.

       Rosie reaches out and gently brushes her fingers across my clit, teasing me with this delicate stimulation as I yearn for more. I push my body against her, whimpering softly as the sensations begin to spill across my body. I can feel a warmth blooming at the pit of my stomach, then gradually spreading out across my arms and legs. I begin to tremble and quake, the first hints of orgasm making their way through me.

       Suddenly, Rosie pulls her hand back, I can sense her moving around behind me, drifting closer, and the next thing I know there’s a different kind of stimulation against my ass. Her face presses into me, not afraid to get in deep as I bend over just a little bit more. I reach back and grab the metal fire escape railing, holding myself in this position.

       Moments later, I can feel the living parade balloon’s wet tongue lapping its way across my pussy, slowly at first and the gradually gaining speed. We fall into a rhythm just as quickly as we did before, our bodies grinding against one another as Rosie’s licks become more forceful.

       Eventually, Rosie reaches around and begins to play with my clit, only adding to the stimulation and pushing my body to even greater heights of ecstasy. My eyes roll back into my head as I begin to shake, nearly buckling at the knees but somehow managing to stay upright. Rosie knows exactly what she’s doing, working me with incredible precision.

       “Oh my fucking God,” I groan, struggling to get the words out. “I’m so close. I’m so close. I’m gonna fucking cum!”

       I throw my head back and stretch the last word out, allowing it to transform into an unhinged, guttural shriek. All of the tension that’s been building within me releases in an instant, tearing across my body like a mighty, crashing wave.

       Rosie doesn’t let up for a second, carrying me all the way through my powerful orgasm from beginning to end.

       As I finish, I finally let go of the bar, falling forward a bit. I stumble over to the stairs and take a seat, panting loudly as I bask in this glorious sexual afterglow.

       “That was incredible,” I gush. “Thank you.”

       “Thank you,” she replies.

       “We do that a lot,” I laugh. “Thank each other.”

       “It’s fitting.”

       I sit with this a moment, considering her words as I gaze out across the city. There are so many people out there asleep in their apartments, a vast sea of lives I’ll never know. It’s hard not to consider just how rare this moment with Rosie really is. Of all the people I could’ve met this Thanksgiving, it happened to be her.

       I’m overwhelmed with gratitude.

       “What’s next?” Rosie suddenly asks, her curiosity getting the best of her.

       “What do you mean?”

       “For us,” she explains. “I know we had a great night together, but sometimes all these extra steps can be a lot for people to deal with.”

       “Honestly, I hardly even noticed,” I say. “I’m just along for the ride.”

       The second I say this, I notice a twinkle in Rosie’s eye. “A ride, huh?” she replies. “Grab on.”

       I don my clothes and then approach the sentient parade balloon. She drifts down a bit so that I can climb onto her, settling in atop the turkey’s body and wrapping my arms around its neck. “I thought it was too dangerous for you to fly away,” I say. “If we float up and then how are we getting down?”
       “We’re not going very far,” Rosie replies.

       “Do you want me to go untie the ropes?” I question.

       “Nope,” she says, smiling peacefully.

       I suddenly realize what’s going on. We’re saying right here, but for the moment that’s enough. The two of us gaze out at the glorious view, swaying in the breeze and enjoying one another’s company.

       “I’m so glad to be here,” I say.