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Late Night Fun In The Beya, Part 3
Late Night Fun In The Beya |
Gutcrazy aka Frank
[Copyright Notice: Copyright © Frank 2013. This publication shall not be sold, resold or hired out for profit. It may be copied, downloaded, printed and otherwise circulated free of charge without the author’s prior consent. Enquiries should be sent to firstname.lastname@example.org.]
11. The Quest for Greater Girth
Ever since the TV interview, Chocho-san and I had thought now and then about the possibility of getting bigger without further weight gain. Sometimes we would search the Internet looking for items on belly growth, belly expansion, belly building, etc. Some searches produced results, which were interesting, if not what we were looking for. Other searches elicited suggestions, which can only be described as downright bizarre. Then one evening, we came across a webpage for a company called Gettagutsu. The company produced a number of products, which they described as “Belly Inflation Kits”. The kits consisted of cylinders of various gases such as compressed air or helium, hypodermic needles, tubing, rubber patches like those found in puncture repair kits and something called Strechidermis Lotion. We realized instantly that this was the sort of thing that we had been looking for, even though its full import wasn’t instantly apparent. As we browsed around the site, we found that it was the website of an American company called the Acme Novelty Company, which specialized in novelties and practical jokes. The Belly Inflation Kits were just one range of novelties produced by the company. They had a Japanese outlet called Gettagutsu, based in Yokohama, which only sold the Belly Inflation Kits. It was only at this juncture that I realized that Gettagutsu was a Japanese way of pronouncing Get-a-Gut. We realized that we had found what we wanted.
We spent the whole of that evening and half the night reading up about Gettagutsu’s products and I had to translate much of the English-language product description into Japanese for Chocho-san. I explained to him that the idea was to hook one of the hypodermic needles up to a cylinder of gas using the supplied tubing, insert the needle into your belly and then turn the gas on and watch your belly blow up. He was impressed.
“So, what’s this Strechidermis Lotion?” he asked.
“Well,” I explained, “the instructions say that you have to rub it all over your body once a day for seven days before you inflate. It’s for making your skin nice and stretchy.”
“Ah, is that so?” he muttered. “We must get one of these kits. If there is a branch in Yokohama, it will be same-day delivery.”
“Yes,” I said, “but we need to decide which one.”
“That’s obvious,” Chocho-san went on. “We’ll get one of the kits with helium.”
“Why one of the ones with helium?” I asked.
“I want to float,” he said in a reverie.
“Oh, come on,” I snapped, “there’s no way you and me are floating.”
“But why not?” he moped like a disappointed child.
“Come on,” I explained, “have you ever seen a half-ton balloon?!”
“No,” he conceded, “I suppose you’re right.”
“The compressed air will give us the extra size that we want,” I argued. “And it’s a lot cheaper than the helium.”
We read through the list of products and selected a kit with two cylinders of compressed air, a supply of hypodermic needles to last years, plenty of tubing and puncture repair patches, and enough Strechidermis Lotion to last a lifetime. We proceeded to the site’s mail order page and placed our order.
The next day at lunch time, a delivery man turned up at the beya to drop off our order. We had him move the equipment into our living quarters.
That night we hurried through dinner and retired to our quarters as quickly as possible. We read the instruction booklet for the Belly Inflation Kit very carefully. Then we stripped naked and massaged Strechidermis Lotion into each other’s bodies. This was an enjoyable task, as we each had such a vast acreage of soft, flabby, bouncy flesh to cover. Needless to say this procedure had to terminate in hot passionate sex and hours of blissfully bumping our gigantic bellies into each other. Eventually, we drifted to sleep, two happy balls of heaving fat.
We continued with this routine for seven nights. Both of us, especially Chocho-san though, were keen to get on with the inflation but I had to remind him several times: “We want to get big not bust.”
12. The Big Blow-up
Finally, the eighth night arrived. We called our personal attendants to undress us. We were both horny at the prospect of becoming even bigger. We had the attendants wheel out the cylinders of compressed air and unpack and prepare the other equipment for us. Then we asked to be left alone. Then we both stood by our cylinders of compressed air, connected our valves up to hypodermic needles and we both prepared a puncture patch to seal up the holes after the inflation.
“Where do I stick this?” asked Chocho-san, gesturing at the hypodermic needle. “Shouldn’t we be worried about sticking it in a vital organ or a blood vessel or something?”
“Just stick it straight down,” I said, “into your ball of fat. There aren’t any vital organs there.”
“OK,” he acknowledged.
We stuck the hypodermic needles into our bellies, both of us giving a smile of relief that it didn’t hurt as much as expected it to.
“I’ll let you go first,” I said.
“OK,” agreed Chocho-san. He reached out to the valve on his cylinder of compressed air and turned it on. At first there was an audible hiss and little more. On my recommendation, he opened the valve a little more. His belly started to grow very slowly. We both stood in awe of the wonderful sight of an inflating belly. I wondered what it was like from Chocho-san’s point of view, being able to look down and see his own belly swelling. This thought made me wish that I had taken the first turn. Chocho-san’s belly grew wider, it thrust further and further forwards, it rose higher at the top and it sank lower at the bottom. He caressed his swelling orb fondly.
“Oh, Furanko,” he sighed, “this feels so good. Look how huge my belly’s getting. I can’t get my hands around all of it.”
“It’s making you look more beautiful than ever,” I offered by way of encouragement.
“Yes, but it’s so tight,” he gasped. “I think I’ve got to turn it off now.”
“Oh, no, don’t,” I objected. “Just a couple more inches.”
“I can’t,” he protested, “I’ll pop.” With this he reached for the valve but his new size was making it difficult for him to control his movements. He fumbled with the valve for many seconds. This was sheer delight to me as I watched his belly stretch up another couple of inches. His still swelling belly knocked the cylinder of air over but he held on to the top of the cylinder and fell with it. His belly swelled up ever bigger but he manage to hold on to the tubing and pull the valve closer to his hands. For a few seconds, he pawed desperately at the valve on the cylinder. I covered by ears in anticipation of an explosion. Chocho-san struggled furiously to pull the valve within reach of his hands. Eventually, he managed to switch it off. We both heaved a huge sigh of relief.
“Now, what?” he gasped in perplexity. It was quite evident that his vast paunch was making it a little difficult for him to breathe.
“Quickly!” I snapped. “Pull the needle out and put the patch over the hole. Quickly! Before you deflate too much.” He pulled the needle out and stuck the patch over the little hole in his belly.
“How big am I?” asked Chocho-san.
“You’re unbelievably huge!” I exclaimed. “And I can’t wait to get my hands on you.”
“I want to know how much I measure,” he insisted. I called Yukio, the senior of our two personal assistants. As Yukio entered the room, his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets at the size of Chocho-san’s belly.
“Get a tape measure,” I told Yukio, “and measure how big Chocho-san’s belly is.”
Yukio got a tape measure out of a chest of drawers and tried to measure Chocho-san’s belly. Yukio found the task more difficult than he expected. His arms wouldn’t reach round it and neither would the tape measure.
“Use a biro,” I explained, “and measure his belly in sections, making marks to show where to place the tape measure next.”
“Ah, yes,” said Yukio.
I watched Yukio measure Chocho-san’s enormously bloated belly, in anticipation of the wonderful number which would soon come from his lips. The tape measure went across one stretch of belly and then another and then another. I stood in awe of Chocho-san’s new bulk. I guessed the final figure to within a couple of inches before Yukio announced his findings. Then I watched Yukio silently mouthing numbers as he added the figures up.
“One hundred and fifty-two inches,” announced Yukio. The result was staggering and magnificent.
“Your turn now,” said Chocho-san. I asked Yukio to leave us again.
I reached out to the cylinder and turned the valve on a little way. I felt the air rushing into me and permeating my fat. I gazed down in the hope of seeing my belly swelling but, much as I felt the air inside me, there was little to see on the outside.
“Go on!” urged Chocho-san enthusiastically. “Turn it up some more!”
I turned the valve a bit further. Air began escaping with an audible hiss, which I found strangely erotic. I could see that my belly was slowly swelling. It stretched out further and further in front of me to start with. Then I noticed that my arms were no longer hanging as straight down as they had been. They were being pushed outwards sideways. My belly was getting wider. I could feel my skin getting tighter.
“OK,” I declared to Chocho-san, “I’m going stop now.”
“Don’t stop on my account,” he retorted. “I’d like you to be even bigger.”
“No,” I insisted, “I’ve got to stop.” I reached out for the valve but I stumbled and fell, as I couldn’t see where I was putting my feet because of the enormous belly, which I now had. I fell forwards and bounced on my now colossal belly. Then I rolled onto my side and finally onto my back. My belly towered above me. I wondered if I was going to explode. The danger thrilled me, as did my growing belly. I thought this was the end but I was in ecstasy. At that moment I realized that I never wanted to stop growing.
“Help!” I cried to Chocho-san. “Turn the gas off, before my belly blows.”
Unfortunately, Chocho-san approached my cylinder belly first and struggled to reach the valve. I realized that I was running out of time. I just looked up at my belly pushing further and further upwards towards the ceiling. It was becoming difficult for me to breathe. I asked myself if I was about to suffer the same fate as the frog in Aesop’s fable. Would it be quicker to get Chocho-san to turn his vast bulk around to approach the cylinder side on or would it be quicker to summon Yukio? I opted for the latter course of action.
“Yukio! Yukio!” I screamed for fear of dying.
Yukio ran into the room in a trice.
“Turn the valve off!” I yelled. Yukio just gazed upon the spectacle with open mouth. I lay helplessly on my back, inflating like some oversized meteorological balloon. I was filled equally with delight and despair. Would I burst and die? Despite the impending danger, I felt a thrill that few have known. I was bigger, much, much bigger than any human being had ever been before. As my belly stretched further and further in front of me, the fear and the rapture welled to unbearable levels. My vastly swollen belly gave me such an intense autoerotic thrill that my member started to throb and pump out of me what felt like gallons of semen. I yelled Yukio’s name repeatedly. I gestured to my gargantuanly inflated lover to come to my assistance but all that he could do was rock from side to side flailing his arms and legs around in fruitless attempts to raise himself from the ground, as he was unaccustomed to having such a at vast belly. I yelled and yelled, an action, which became more difficult with each passing moment, as I now feared drawing breath to use my voice for fear that just one more tiny puff of air would cause me to explode and blow half of Tokyo away in a hail of blood and guts. As my impending explosion drew closer, I realized, that if my life had to come to an end, there was no end that would rather have than this one. I had dreamed since early childhood of being blow up like a balloon and now it seemed that I was being inflated to death. What a way to go! But then the struggle to survive kicked in again. I summoned up all my strength to use only the breath already in my lungs to call out to Yukio one last time and he leapt about three feet into the air at the sound of my booming voice. A look of horror came over his face. He had obviously realized the gravity of my plight. He flew at the valve, almost falling over Chocho-san. He turned the valve of in a second. Now a new urgency faced me. I was no longer in danger of bursting but of deflating, which to my mind would be just as great a disaster.
“Quickly, Yukio,” I shouted, “take this puncture patch, pull the needle out of my belly and put the patch over the hole to stop the gas from escaping.” Yukio followed my instructions with alacrity. As Yukio stuck the patch in place, Chocho-san managed to raise himself into a standing position, having finally learned how to manage his new corporal bulk.
“Now, both of you,” I ordered, “help me to my feet.” They grabbed an arm and a shoulder each and pulled me up into a standing position. The joy I felt in that moment was beyond expression, for my belly stretched ahead of me so far that it almost seemed to go on for ever.
“Man, I thought I was big,” commented Chocho-san, “but you’re even bigger.” He smiled at me and ran his hands over my gigantic balloon of a belly with glee, which he was totally unable to conceal from myself and Yukio.
“Yukio,” I called, “get the tape measure and measure my belly.” Yukio followed my instructions. The tape measure was applied to my vast belly four times. My mind ran riot trying to imagine how big I was.
“One hundred and eighty-nine inches,” Yukio finally gasped in amazement. I could hardly believe my ears. I was big beyond my wildest dreams. We dismissed Yukio again and reclined on our giant futon. We spent half-an-hour belly-bumping each other and oozed what seemed like gallons of cum. Eventually, we stopped to talk.
“Could you love me like this?” asked Chocho-san.
“Yes, I could! Yes, I do!” I exclaimed enthusiastically. “Do you like my new body?”
“Better than ever,” said Chocho-san. “The bigger, the better. But it’s time to deflate back to normal size.”
“No,” I said, “let’s not go back to that. Let’s live like this full time.”
“You know,” he said hesitantly, “I agree with that. Let’s stay like this. Let’s call Yukio and get him to tie a couple of mawashi together for us to dress in and then let’s show ourselves to the other guys.” I nodded and smiled my agreement. We called Yukio and explained what we wanted to have done with the mawashi, so that we would have something to wear. We told him to use safety pins to attach the strips of silk from the mawashi together, asking him to make doubly sure there were no sharp ends sticking out that might puncture us. We needed two silk waistbands from the mawashi to encompass or girths and three of the strips that go between the legs to cover up a wrestler’s naughty bits.
“Come on,” I said to Chocho-san, “let’s show our new selves off to the others.”
I took Chocho-san by the hand and we waddled out of the door, across the garden and in through the door of the main building of the beya. As we made our way into the common room, the other wrestlers looked up and gasped in amazement.
“Man, what happened to you guys?” asked Rikyu. “What did you eat? A whole cow each?”
“No,” I proclaimed, “we bought a Belly Inflation Kit and blew ourselves up.”
“You look just amazing,” said Rikyu. The other rikishi nodded their approval. They gathered tightly round us to feel our vast bellies.
“Can you do that to us, too?” asked one of the rikishi.
“Yes, I want a bigger belly, too,” said another wrestler. Soon they were all clamouring to be blown up.
“Well, we can do it,” I said, “but you have to go through a week of preparation before we can blow you up.”
“Why? How?” asked Rikyu.
“We’ve got some special lotion that you have to use,” I explained. “You have to rub it all over your bodies once a day for a week. It makes your skin nice and stretchy, so that your bellies can be blown up big.” The wrestlers were all talking to each other with enthusiasm about belly inflation. It was impossible to catch what any individual was saying but their universal approval was unmistakable.
“We can give you the Internet address of the company that sells the Belly Inflation Kits,” I continued. “Your orders will be delivered within twenty-four hours. Chocho-san and I have plenty of Strechidermis Lotion. So, we can start getting you ready right now.”
“That sounds good,” said Rikyu.
I called Yukio and asked him to fetch two one-gallon bottles of Strechidermis Lotion from our quarters. He returned with the lotion and put the bottles down in front of us. I got the rikishi to strip naked and rub each other with the lotion. The sight of this was such joy to behold. I thought how lucky I was to have a job, where you were paid to get fat, how lucky I was to be able to live in what was virtually a commune of thirty fat guys and how lucky I was to live with a bunch of guys, who were bent on growing their bellies bigger.
Chocho-san and I slept the sleep of the blessed that night with our bellied wedged so tightly against each other that we could hardly breathe.
13. The Blimps’ New Clothes
The next morning I called Yamamoto’s Big and Tall Shop, the best such store in Tokyo, from which Chocho-san and I bought most of our clothes, and asked if he could do us the favour of doing a home visit. He was rather curious as to why a customer of a clothes shop would require a home visit and pressed more for information about what necessitated this.
“Well,” I explained to Yamamoto-san, “you see, we’re a bit bigger than we were when you last saw us.”
“Oh, I can cope with that,” replied Yamamoto-san. “I’ve got shirts and pants up to one hundred and twenty inches. I keep them in stock just for you two guys, for when you get to that size.”
“But we’re already bigger than that size,” my explanation continued. “And much as we’d love to come into your shop, we just can’t, because we don’t have clothes that will fit us anymore.”
“That’s alright,” said Yamamoto-san in a further attempt to duck the issue. “We’ve got pants with elasticated waists.”
“We’re a bit beyond that,” I pleaded.
“Just how big are you guys?” asked Yamamoto-san.
I was relieved that we had at last got to the crucial point and said: “Well, Chocho-san has a one-hundred-and-fifty-two inch girth…”
“Man, that’s huge!” he interrupted.
“… and I’m one hundred and eighty-nine inches,” I continued. Decency forbids me from repeating the words, which Yamamoto-san uttered at this juncture.
“So, you really do need a house call,” Yamamoto-san conceded. “I can’t do it straight away but I can do it a little later this morning. I’ll get an extra assistant to come in to the shop and then I’ll come over to the beya. I’ll be with you before mid-day. Is that OK?” This meant that Chocho-san and I would miss out on the morning’s training but we would be able to take such a liberty, as Mr. Tanaka was abroad on business for a couple of weeks and would not be doing any inspections, regular or otherwise.
“That’s fantastic. Thank you,” I said. “We’ll look forward to seeing you.”
Two hours later Yukio ushered Yamamoto-san into our quarters. He gasped in amazement at the sight of us. He started to fumble around with the tape measure but found it an impossible task, because it would not go all the way round us.
“Use a biro,” I advised him. “Mark where the end of the tape comes to on our skin. Then you can see where to place the beginning of the tape next.”
“Ah, yes.” He said. He used a biro to accomplish the task and soon read out the measurements, which we already knew. Then, Yamamoto-san questioned us about what garments we would like made up in our new sizes. This was not a complicated matter, as Chocho-san and I both wore mainly check shirts and jeans.
The clothes were delivered three days later, which meant that Chocho-san and I missed three days training. It was certainly fortunate that Tanaka-san was away on business. Our exclusion from training over these few days, gave us more than ample opportunity to explore the erotic potentials of our new bodies.
14. Late Night Fun in the Beya Begins
The ritual of massaging Strechidermis Lotion into the wrestlers’ bodies took place each night for eight days. We gave it an extra day, because it would mean that the blow up would take place on a Saturday night. So, we would be able to turn it into a big party. And how the boys looked forward to that Saturday night! The week’s activities were constantly interrupted by deliveries of Belly Inflation Kits for the other rikishi. Whatever else we talked about that week, someone would quickly turn the conversation back round to the enthusiastically anticipated belly-inflation party, not only because we were a bunch of guys, who were bent on growing our bodies and especially our bellies as big as possible, but also because, as far as all of us were aware, this was the first time that anyone in the whole of the world had organized such an event. The rikishi were obviously taking great pleasure in massaging each other. It was very apparent that the dream of so many men with unbelievably huge ball-bellies was shared by all members of the beya.
Saturday night came round. To the chef’s amazement, we all declined to eat dinner, intending to all get full of pizza and whisky later that evening. We called out for mountains of pizza and an ocean of whisky to be delivered. We called Reiko and asked her to come round with some of her girls, especially the girls who particularly liked big men. We told her that such girls would be in for a very special treat at the beya that night. She was very intrigued.
We wheeled in the compressed air cylinders and prepared all the other belly-inflation equipment. The atmosphere in the common room was electric with anticipation. It was a fine summer’s evening and all the doors were open wide. The pizza delivery men arrived and were bidden to bring the goods inside and set them beside the wrestlers. We started gorging on the fattening treats without delay. Soon the whisky and mixer drinks were delivered. By the time that Reiko and her select little band of oiran arrived, we were well disinhibited with drink.
The girls were amazed at the size of Chocho-san and myself and we were obviously their favourites. The irony that Reiko’s girls all seemed to be more strongly drawn to the two gay men in the beya rather than to the straight men seemed to have been noticed by many of my fellow rikishi.
“Don’t worry, girls,” I reassured them. “You’re going to have a whole beya full of men like us tonight.”
“Is that so?” she asked. “What are those for?” she asked pointing at the compressed air cylinders.
“Oh, they’re for creating an amazing spectacle,” I said enigmatically. Reiko and her girls looked most perplexed. A couple of the girls walked over to one of the cylinders, caressed it almost lovingly and examined the labels on it.
“I know what these are for,” said one of the girls. “We going to blow up some balloons and let them float up into the sky. It’ll look so pretty to see all of those balloons floating up into the sky on a beautiful summer’s evening like this.” Some of the rikishi sniggered at this remark.
“I hope that you’ve got plenty of pink balloons,” said the first girl’s companion, “pink like the sakura that we all love. It will be so beautiful to send lots of lovely, pink balloons up into the evening sky…”
Her reverie was cut short by a sudden, loud, smacking noise. Chocho-san had slapped my massive gut as it nestled between my thighs and spread across the floor in front. The girls were quite delighted to see my manly ball of blubber quivering seductively.
“Yes, you’re right!” Chocho-san bellowed at the girls. “We’re going to blow up lots of beautiful balloons. And you, my pretty little thing, will be able to play with the biggest, pink balloon that you have ever seen!” Chocho-san caressed the vast curvature of my swollen belly suggestively. Reiko and her girls still looked puzzled, despite the fact that all of the rikishi felt that Chocho-san’s gestures and comments had given away the secret of the treat that we had planned for them.
Soon the oiran and the wrestlers had paired off with each other. Chocho-san and I were, of course, an exception to this, as we snuggled up together. Soon the whole company was merry and intimate.
Eventually, I decided that the company was ready for the main treat of the evening. I struggled to my feet and called for attention.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” I began, “now we are about to start the activity, for which we organized this party. It’s a “belly-inflation” party. Ladies, be prepared to assist your favourite wrestler with his belly inflation. As far as I’m aware, this is the first group belly inflation in human history.”
The rikishi had been well briefed earlier in the day about what to do. They attached their hypodermic needles to the compressed air cylinders. They got their puncture patches ready and most of the rikishi chose to assign the task of being ready to apply their patches at the appropriate time to their favourite oiran. Some wrestlers stood up for the inflation and others remained reclining on the floor. They took their needles and plunged them into their belly fat. Each man then got his oiran to turn the valve of his cylinder on as far as he felt comfortable and safe with. Little by little, a room full of bellies started to inflate. It went slowly at first. Bellies swelled inch by imperceptible inch. Then it started to be more and more apparent to both the rikishi and the oiran that bellies were starting to protrude a little further over the top of the mawashi, which were wrapped so snugly round them. The excitement of all present became more noticeable, as eyes fixed upon inflating bellies, as fingers lovingly caressed men’s growing girths and whispers of disbelief, amazement and delight slipped from amorous lips. The inflation gathered pace, as more and more confident rikishi instructed their oiran to turn up the air flow more. It was magnificent to see three dozen bellies swelling up to massive proportions. Rikishi were exclaiming how good it felt. Oiran could not resist the temptation to touch and massage their favourite rikishi’s swelling belly. As the bellies got bigger, the oiran became more and more impassioned, rubbing, groping and kissing their men’s massively swollen paunches.
As the excitement grew, Chocho-san and I decided that it was time to summon Yukio to assist with our own inflation. Chocho-san called him and he came running to assist us, for he felt that he had the best job in all of Japan. He felt honoured to assist the two most popular rikishi, who had ever lived. We slowly hauled ourselves onto our feet and took our places beside our cylinders of compressed air. Yukio attached the hypodermic needles to the tubing and handed them to us. We thrust the needles into our bellies simultaneously and gestured to Yukio to open the valves on the cylinders. The hiss of escaping gas gradually became audible. The sound instantly started to give me an erotic thrill, as the mere thought of being blown up like a huge balloon gets me aroused. I could feel my cock rise to attention and start throbbing. Soon we were both gaining in girth, width and protuberance. I felt good as my middle section swelled to monstrous proportions. I gazed in wonder and delight at my swelling lover. I gained as much, if not more, pleasure from the sight of my partner’s belly swelling up like a weather balloon as other man-lovers gain from seeing the engorgement of the partner’s member. Just as lesser men bring joyous anticipation to their partners with the sight of their members rising and thickening up, so Chocho-san’s swelling belly promised me the orgasmic enjoyment of a long slow belly-bumping session at bedtime. The delirious enjoyment to be had from the collision of two mountainous, rotund and flabby bellies is far more delicious and fulfilling than the satisfaction of mere penetrative intercourse. Only men with vast paunches and their lovers can ever experience the greatest sexual pleasure possible. I watched his ballooning gut in ecstatic anticipation of feeling it pressed tightly against my own.
As I glanced around the room, I noticed that some of the oiran had covered their ears in fear of some mighty human explosion. There fears made me chuckle.
Eventually, wrestlers decided one by one that they could take no more. They ranged in size from girths of about one hundred inches up to about one hundred and fifty inches. Each man finally came to his limit and asked his oiran to turn his valve off, remove the needle from his belly and to seal the hole with the puncture patch. Even Chocho-san and I had our limits and motioned to Yukio to turn the valves of our cylinders off, before we removed our hypodermic needles and put our patches in place. There were now groans of delight from rikishi and oiran alike. Much kissing and fondling now followed. One by one, each of the men took his girl to his room for a while.
It made me feel deeply satisfied to see so many people appreciatively fondling what I knew to be the biggest bellies in the world. The constant sighs of delight and squeals of amazement justified my very existence. It felt to me that I had achieved something that I was born, even predestined, to do. Although the rikishi and their oiran had retired to their rooms for their moment of greatest intimacy, we were not left completely unaware of their pleasures. Men of such bulk and girth make a lot of noise in their love-making. Their weight stresses floorboards. Their unaccustomed bulk knocks furniture noisily around. There are many falls and stumblings, if men are not used to their own size. The strength needed to manipulate such vast bodies leads to much more grunting, groaning and heavy breathing than lesser men make in their moments of passion. As many men’s skin was stretched tight to the point of bursting, it squeaked as women ran their fingers rapturously over so many hugely distended paunches. The very sound made me shudder with delight, as the thought of a man about to burst like an overinflated balloon arouses me so intensely.
Towards the end of the evening, we were all gathered in the common room again. We rang out for more pizza, whisky and mixer drinks. The delivery boys were so astonished at the sight of three dozen men with such unbelievably colossal bellies. Japanese people don’t tend to stare at fat men to the same extent that westerners do, because they’re used to seeing rikishi. Moreover, Japan is a nation of chubby chasers, or at least the women and they gay men are. Most of them dream of an involvement with a rikishi. Thanks to sumo, fat is held in high regard here. It is a mark of wealth, nobility and good breeding. Nevertheless, the delivery boys had never seen one man, who was so big, let alone three dozen, many of whom had this evening surpassed the world record for human girth. They gasped in amazement at the sight and could not help staring at the vast bellies before their eyes. They stood mouths open and gazed in wonderment at the ocean of heaving bellies before them.
It was well into the small hours, when the beya started to quieten down. The boys were inflated huge, which in itself tired them, their bellies were stuffed to bursting point with pizza, they were mellow with whisky and exhausted from their marathon of an orgy with the oiran. Most of the boys and girls drifted off to sleep with their arms wrapped around each other on the floor of the common room. I, however, kept vigil all night, surveying and delighting in my handiwork - a room full of colossal, heaving bellies.
The next day, the rikishi and oiran were awakened by the chef arriving. The girls stayed for breakfast. It was obvious by this time that some of the partnerships formed the previous night were far from casual. We came to an agreement that we would do the same again the following Saturday. Reiko and her girls seemed most agreeable to this arrangement. The wrestlers watched their friends depart from the vantage point of the beya garden and waved until they disappeared round the corner. Then they returned to the common room and one by one they removed the puncture patches from their bellies. It was obvious that most of them watched their bellies deflate back to normal size with a certain amount of regret. Last of all, Chocho-san and I deflated ourselves back to our now usual size.
Fortunately, it was a Sunday. A number of the rikishi were somewhat hung over, not that the drinking had been excessive by most people’s standards so much as their not being used to alcohol. It was fortunate that we did not have to train that day.
15. A Public Outing
The Friday night after our first “blow-up” party, Chocho-san and I decided to go out for a night on the town. It would be our first public outing since we had become men of such tremendous girth. We decided to stay local, just wondering round Shinjuku, not far from our beya. We didn’t go to pubs and nightclubs, partly because I, as a foreigner, was not allowed into most of them, and partly because they had doorways, which neither of us could now fit through. We decided to just wonder around the crowded streets and enjoy being observed and to go to our favourite restaurant, mainly because we knew that we could fit through its doorway.
It was inevitable that the two biggest men who had ever lived would attract attention. As we wondered through the streets, we heard ceaseless comments from all directions: “Look! It’s Chocho-san and Furanko-san… My God, they’re bigger than ever… Is it true that they’re lovers? Look at the size of them… Just look at the bellies on those two guys…”
When we arrived at the restaurant, the waiter found us a table with plenty of room. Two benches were brought in from the garden to accommodate our now more than ample rumps. We spent about three hours eating and ordering more and more food. The waiter could hardly keep up with us. Of course, we could no longer reach the table in front of us and had to give the waiter special instructions not to place our food not on the table but on top of our bellies, so that our hands could reach it. This caused some comment from other diners, who were amazed at the sight of two men with such prodigious paunches that they had to eat off the top of their bellies.
For at least an hour, the diners in the restaurant were graced with the company of a bunch of my fellow Brits, whose comments left much to be desired: “Fuck, have you seen those two blimps over there… They’re like a couple of bloody elephants… It’s like they’re making out like a couple of fuckin’ queers… How do you make love to a guy like that? – it’d be like clambering over a bloody hippopotamus…” I found their language and manners coarse after spending a couple of years in Japanese company.
One of the waitresses, who spoke passably good English, went over to explain that we were two of their greatest sumo wrestlers and that, as such, they should accord us a little more respect. Her efforts were greeted with ridicule. All were relieved when my fellow countrymen departed.
We, finally, called for the bill. It came to a huge sum of money. The owner of the restaurant used to refer to us as his “billion-yen customers”. We stepped out into the now cooler night air and began to saunter slowly homewards. The crowds were thinning now. We turned a corner and found ourselves suddenly alone on the street beneath the clear starry sky. We felt so full and heavy and satiated with our massive bellies preceding us by several feet. We moved closer and closer to each other until our sides were pressing against each other.
“Wow, Chocho-san,” I said, “This is the life isn’t it? Doesn’t it feel good to be alive?”
“How do you mean?” he asked.
“Doesn’t it feel good to be so noticed?” I elaborated. “Don’t you feel good knowing that you’re one of the two biggest men, who have ever lived? To know you’ve got the biggest belly ever? Isn’t wonderful to be able to enjoy so much food, to be able to eat fifty times what most men eat? Isn’t it good to be so full and heavy? Isn’t it so good to be in love?”
“What?” asked Chocho-san, almost in amazement, “You love me like this.” I gazed upon his lovely round face. To me, he was the most handsome man in the world. We were still alone on the street. So, I reached out and took his hand in mine.
“I love you exactly as you are.” I declared my love more openly than ever before. “I wouldn’t have you any other way. To me, you’re the perfect man and I want to be with you forever.”
“Wow, Furanko,” said Chocho-san, “look at me. You can’t really mean that. You’ll find a better looking guy and leave me for him.”
“How could I do that?” I said, answering his question with one of my own. “I’m with the most beautiful and magnificent man in the world. After being with a man like you, how could a lesser man ever satisfy me?”
“You know, Furanko,” he said almost hesitantly, “I feel just the same way about you. It’s so good – two big fat guys together.”
“I don’t think we qualify as fat guys anymore,” I laughed.
“Then what are we?” asked Chocho-san.
“We’re a couple of balloons,” I explained. “We’ve been blown up. So, we’re a couple of great big human balloons.”
After half a minute Chocho-san nodded his agreement and said, “Hmm, I suppose you’re right.”
“And it’s so sexy,” I added. “Two men, who’re just vast bellies waddling along hand in hand on a balmy summer’s night with the moon just starting to peep over the rooftops. My God, I love you and there won’t ever be anyone else for me.”
“Me, too,” Chocho-san muttered tersely.
We waddled slowly homewards, now and then whispering sweet nothings to each other. We had been lovers for quite a while but now we had pledged eternity to each other and that’s certainly what I wanted – eternity with the biggest, roundest man I had ever seen and was ever likely to see.
On arriving home, still heavily laden, we called for Yukio to assist us with undressing and getting comfortable onto our giant futon, which these days was no longer giant enough. We lay there with our massive, bulging bellies wedged against each other, too exhausted from feasting to even belly-bump. As sleep drew nigh, I was aware that just having my lover’s belly pressed against mine was making me ooze copious amounts of love-juice.
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