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Late Night Fun In The Beya, Part 4
|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.]
16. The Pace Quickens
The next day was Saturday and it was “blow-up” night. Reiko and her specially selected little band of oiran, who preferred their men unbelievably big-bellied and rotund, arrived quite early in the evening. Their earlier than necessary arrival betrayed the fact that, for many of the girls, this tryst ran deeper than mere business. As the girls paired up with their favourite wrestlers, it was obvious that, for many, matters were becoming somewhat more than casual. For some, deep feelings were obviously developing. There was much more enthusiasm for the actual inflation than there had been the previous week. It was now obvious that, male or female, gay or straight, we were all of one mind, united by our love of big male bellies and of inflating them to the most unbelievable proportions. There was also less reticence about pairs of lovers seeking privacy for a little – what shall I call it? – “nooky”. Chocho-san and I were less inhibited amongst the company, now being quite openly affectionate towards each other. We spent most of the night leaning heavily and deeply into each other, each with an arm slipped round the other’s love-handle and we certainly had lovely, big love-handles by now, spilling with unimaginable grace and fluidity over the waistbands of our mawashi. Eventually, we all drifted off to sleep in the loving embrace of a paramour. I woke up a couple of times during the night and gazed about the room. I felt proud of my achievement. I was sure that I lived in the best beya in Japan. For me, this was an earthly paradise.
In the morning, the girls stayed for breakfast again. Some of them were bold enough to take their partners’ chopsticks and put the food into their mouths for them, a thing which they did in the most amorous manner imaginable, having been trained for their profession in all the arts of seduction. When the girls left, we devoted the rest of the day to resting and eating. This time round, the rikishi didn’t deflate until bedtime, being now obviously pleased with themselves as men of such girth and bulk.
The week passed very quickly. The new lease of life that belly inflation had given to the whole beya made time pass with remarkable speed.
17. Yamamoto’s Confession and Inflation
The next Saturday, Chocho-san and I went to Yamamoto’s Big and Tall Shop to order some new clothes. There was no longer any chance of buying anything off the rack. Yamamoto-san was delighted to see his two biggest customers. He showed us catalogues galore for us to choose the styles of clothes that we wanted to have made up in our sizes. And then I broached a special subject with Yamamoto-san.
“Yamamoto-san,” I began, “there is one very special garment that I would like you to make for me.”
“And what is that, Furanko-san?” he asked.
“I want a pair of denim shorts, ice blue, knee length…” I began. I drew breath to continue but he cut me short.
“One pair denim shorts,” he muttered under his breath as he filled in the appropriate order form. “Size one hundred and eighty-nine inches.” He then raised his voice to talk to me rather than himself. “Yes, Furanko-san, we can manage the denim shorts with no trouble.”
“That’s not what is special about the garment,” I interrupted. “I want them to fit a three hundred inch girth. I mean to grow some more.” Yamamoto-san gasped but, out of politeness, refrained from making a comment. He altered the size on the order form.
“And I would like the same,” Chocho-san threw in, “only for a two hundred and twenty inch belly.” Yamamoto-san filled in a second order form and informed us that all our garments would be delivered to the beya in three days. We lapsed into small talk.
“You know,” Yamamoto-san confessed, “I’m one of your biggest fans, because I always wanted to be a rikishi.” He pulled a picture of the former ozeki Konishiki out of his breast pocket and gazed at it admiringly before showing it to us and continuing: “He was my idol. I wanted to be like him. I wanted to be Konishiki Number Two.”
“What went wrong?” asked Chocho-san.
Yamamoto-san flexed his arms and said laconically, “Too skinny.”
“Well, we can soon fix that,” I said. “Do you still want to be a big man with a rikishi’s physique like us two?”
“Oh, if only…” his voice trailed off.
“You can have a magnificent physique like ours in a week,” I said putting an arm around his shoulder to reassure him.
“But how?” he asked seeming quite perplexed.
“When we get home,” I told him, “we’ll get a gallon bottle of some special lotion sent over here by courier. Get your wife to rub the lotion all over your body every night for a week. You must do that without fail. Then, next Saturday afternoon, come over to our quarters at the beya and we’ll make you big. Pick some clothes out of the shop, clothes that you would like to fill and bring them with you to our place.”
I gave Yamamoto-san a pat on the shoulder. We said good-bye to him and made our way out of the shop. He just stood there speechless and unable to believe what he had just been told.
Three days later our new clothes were delivered including the super-sized denim shorts. We pawed over the latter, longing to fill them, but we had second thoughts about blowing ourselves up to that size. We hid both pairs of shorts in a drawer, where we thought that even our personal assistants would be unable to find them, but we got them out every so often and felt them almost lovingly, for we could not rid our minds of the constant craving to be even bigger. It should by this juncture be apparent that I have the mind-set of a megalomaniac, that a man can never be too big in my eyes and that I have probably met my match in Chocho-san. However, we were still not ready to reveal to others the extremity of our craving for bulk. Our huge pairs of shorts were to remain a deep dark secret for some time yet.
The following Saturday soon came round. The whole beya was buzzing with excitement. It was “blow-up” night. We knew that Mr. Tanaka would arrive back in Tokyo that night but we thought that we could get away with one more “blow-up” party. Surely, he would want to sleep late after his long and tiring journey.
Yamamoto-san turned up at our quarters at about two o’clock that afternoon. He had with him a large suitcase, which he opened to reveal a selection of garments.
“So, which of those are you going to wear?” I asked.
“These,” he said, holding up against himself a huge pair of jeans and a check shirt, “because I want to look like you guys.”
“And what size are those?” asked Chocho-san.
“One hundred and twenty,” he replied.
“You stock sizes up to one hundred and twenty?” I asked.
“As you approached the half-ton mark,” he explained, “I got in some stuff this size, because I was expecting you to grow into it.” I gave a nod of enlightenment.
“Well, take your old clothes off,” I instructed Yamamoto-san, “and get into these new ones.” I called Yukio to give us assistance. “Yukio will help to hold everything in place while you inflate to your new size.” Yukio stood behind Mr. Yamamoto and pulled his voluminous jeans back so that they stayed up. I connected tegether the cylinder of compressed air, the tube and the hypodermic needle. I got the patch ready to apply. Then I went over to Mr. Yamamoto and undid a button of his shirt at the top of his belly. I pulled the skin away from his abdomen, so that I could stick the needle in his belly without the danger of hitting any vital organs. Mr. Yamamoto winced as the needle went in but didn’t make a sound. Chocho-san turned the valve on gradually until we could see Mr. Yamamoto’s belly surging forwards. Mr. Yamamoto rubbed his hands with obvious delight over his paunch, which was swelling forwards and sideways.
“Oh, it feels so good!” he exclaimed. “I’m like a rikishi at last.”
“We’ve got a way to go yet,” I reassured him, as I gazed upon this formerly skinny man, who had already achieved considerable magnificence only a short way into his inflation.
Yukio let out the jeans further and further, as Mr. Yamamoto’s belly swelled up bigger and bigger. Mr. Yamamoto kept commenting about how much he appreciated being turned into a man of bulk. Soon, he was almost up to full size, a vast balloon of a man with a beaming smile upon his face. I let his jeans and shirt grow tight before I stepped forwards, snatched the needle out of his belly and applied the puncture patch before the slightest breath of air could escape. I allowed Mr. Yamamoto to get so big and tight, because it just feels so good to have your clothes hug your girth tightly. In my opinion, there’s no point in having a big belly, if you don’t constantly feel that you’re a big-bellied man. I did up the open button and took Mr. Yamamoto over to the mirror. He stood there admiring his reflection for several minutes. He turned to one side and then the other to admire his new physique. He caressed his gigantic paunch with both hands and gasped with amazement and joy, when he realized that he could not join his hands across the front of his belly.
“Oh, it looks so good,” he muttered. “Thank you for making me the man I’ve always wanted to be. And now I’ll be able to model my own clothes and advertise my own business. To show my appreciation, next time you come to the shop your entire order will be free of charge.”
We asked Yamamoto-san if he would like to stay for dinner with the wrestlers and he accepted. He couldn’t stop playing with himself all afternoon. It was good to know that we had made someone so happy.
18. Caught in the Act
Reiko and her girls arrived very early in the evening. We phoned out orders for copious amounts of pizza and whisky, both of which were consumed by all of the men with gluttonous abandon. There was even more amorous foreplay and more sex that night than at the two previous “blow-up” parties. Most of the rikishi and most of the oiran got well and truly liquored up. The guys all blew themselves up as big as they dared. I drifted off to sleep on Chocho-san’s vast and lovely paunch, as I gazed upon the wonderful sight of a sea of mountainous, heaving bellies.
“OK, wakey-wakey!” shrieked an almost military voice. “What’s been happening here?” We all awoke with a start. It was Mr. Tanaka doing an early-morning inspection and on a Sunday morning of all things.
Rikyu stood up and started to apologize, “It’s alright, Tanaka-san. We just had a little party. It won’t happen again, Tanaka-san.”
“Yes, I can see that,” he bawled, “but how did you all manage to put on so much weight so quickly?” he asked with an almost evil grin spreading across his lips.
“We haven’t put on weight,” I explained in an attempt to defuse the situation. “We blew ourselves up with the compressed air. We can deflate and be back to normal in a matter of minutes.”
“Deflate? Why should I want you to deflate?” Mr. Tanaka wasn’t so much talking as thinking out aloud. “I want you to stay like this. This is the best business opportunity of my life.”
The common room seemed to fill all at once with a mixture of perplexity, shock and delight. The emotional ambiguity of the situation was rendered more intense by the fact that many of those present had not yet fully woken up.
“Gentlemen,” Mr. Tanaka declared, “you have just inspired me to create supasumo and you shall be my suparikishi. I shall turn the men at the Ginza Beya, which I also own, into suparikishi like you and the two beya will compete with each other in the new sport. Chocho-san and Kamihara, you’re the two biggest men. So, I shall declare you the first two yokozuna of supasumo. We’re all going to be amongst the richest men in Japan.”
“So, it’s OK?” asked Rikyu.
“OK? Of course it’s OK,” said Mr. Tanaka, who was now laughing with joy. “You’ve shown me how we’re all going to become very rich.” The perplexity had gone. The shock of being expected to live our whole lives at our new size was dissipating. It was the joy that remained with us, the joy at being so huge and the joy that came of the prospect of economic success. Mr. Tanaka was in such a good mood that he allowed Reiko and her girls to stay for the rest of the day and even granted us the liberty of having them round for dinner every Saturday night thereafter.
We spent the rest of the day together. Yamamoto-san was busy all day. He now had three dozen new customers, who were shy of going to other big and tall shops. What was more, they were all in desperate and immediate need of whole new wardrobes and Yamamoto-san was on the spot to cater to their needs.
19. Supasumo is Born
A fortnight later we had started to have training and sparring sessions with the men of the Ginza Beya. This amount of time was necessary for the inflation of the rikishi of the Ginza Beya. This brought new sumo opportunities and many new friendships resulted from these meetings. It brought new life to both beya. What was more, we were all “belly men”. We enjoyed being what we had recently become and loved the company of likeminded men.
Two months later we were competing in our first supasumo tournament. Tickets to the tournament were highly priced to start with but were on-sold for astronomical amounts by unscrupulous dealers. Mr. Tanaka could have sold the tickets for ten times the price. As the first two yokozuna of supasumo, Chocho-san and I featured prominently in the promotions for the tournament. We featured heavily, if readers will forgive the ambiguity, in the merchandising too. There were Chocho-san T-shirts and Kamihara T-shirts, which half the men and many of the women in Tokyo were sporting. At last, I had a professional name that was accepted by the Japanese public. The people of Japan were happy enough to call me Kamihara. Everything in sumo moves from the least to the greatest and so it was too in supasumo. In the dohyoiri or ring-entering ceremony the novices came first and Chocho-san and I came last. The crowd went wild at the sight of us. Similarly, the matches were fought in reverse order of rank, with novices first and yokozuna last.
The wrestling was a little different from conventional sumo. First of all, all the rikishi of supasumo, had to have the latest rule applied to them, namely that wrestlers with girths of greater than seventy inches did not have to touch the starting line with their fingers, when they stooped in the starting position at the start of their matches. All of the suparikishi were exempt from touching the starting line. Needless to say, the smallest wrestlers of the Shinjuku and Ginza Beya were bigger than any men the audience had ever seen before. I had never seen Japanese people express as much emotion, passion and enthusiasm as they did over this new sport and the men who played it. Their enormous bellies stopped the wrestlers from taking hold of each other’s mawashi to manipulate their opponents in an attempt to throw them to the ground or out of the dohyo. The result of this was that the matches were just displays of two colossal bellies clashing into each other. It was more like the sport called “gut-barging” by the British and “whammying” by the Australians. But it was spectacular and the crowd roared with enthusiasm for it.
Chocho-san and I competed last. As the only two yokozuna of the new sport, Chocho-san and I were matched against each other. We entered the dohyo and squatted. The referee walked around in his sumptuous silk kimono with his ceremonial fan in his hand. We waited for what seemed an eternity for him to raise and then lower his fan to mark the start of the match but eventually he did it. We leapt at each other. The smack of flesh hitting flesh reverberated throughout the arena. Our vast bellies quivered as they shoved into each other. Despite the size difference, we were well matched and the fortunes seemed to shift from one of us to the other and back again for three whole minutes, which is very long indeed for a sumo match. However, I was much bigger and heavier and Chocho-san and my bulk eventually pushed his across the dohyo and finally out of it, thus winning me the match. For those unfamiliar with sumo, the objective of the sport is to get your opponent to touch the ground inside the dohyo with any part of his body except the soles of his feet or to get him to touch the ground outside the dohyo with any part of his body at all.
The prizes were awarded after a short break. As I came back into the arena to collect mine, the crowd was chanting, “Kamihara! Kamihara! Kamihara!” I could hear the chanting all the way back to the changing room. Yukio accompanied us to the dressing room, as we needed help dressing, undressing and showering. There was no way we could button up our own shirts, do our pants up or put our own shoes on.
Once refreshed and dressed, we stepped out of the changing room and into a throng of awaiting reporters, who all wanted comments about our involvement in the new sport. We caught sight of Mr. Tanaka and Mayumi, the TV interviewer, pressing their way towards us.
“Mayumi would like to interview you on TV tonight,” said Mr. Tanaka when the four of us were close enough to talk. “Will you do it?”
“Of course,” we said almost in unison.
“Come with us to the van,” said Mr. Tanaka. The van was one of a number of special vehicles, which Mr. Tanaka had had adapted from furniture removal vans to transport his wrestlers. We pressed our way through the crowd of reporters and all four of us got into the van. We were transported to the TV station.
20. The Second TV Interview
When the programme began, Mayumi explained that they were going to do a special interview with Chocho-san and me, because the first supasumo tournament had taken place that day. She explained that the interview would take a look at the new sport and at our recent weight gain.
“Now, Furanko-san,” Mayumi began, “At first you were known professionally as Gaikokujin but now you have been given a new professional name. Can you tell us a little bit about that?”
“Yes,” I began, “My manager tried giving me several professional names but none of them ever caught on. The crowds and the media just kept on calling me Gaikokujin, because I’m a foreigner. When I became the heaviest rikishi that had ever lived, the manager of our beya, Tanaka-san, felt that this occasion required that I should be given a new name. The other rikishi at our beya chose the name Kamihara for me.” I paused and then added, “Because of this…” And I patted the top of my huge belly.
“And you’ve claimed a number of records,” Mayumi continued. “Can you tell us something about those?”
“Yes,” I replied, “First of all, I became the heaviest rikishi, who has ever lived. Then I became the first rikishi to weigh over half a ton. And, finally, I became the biggest man on record.”
“That’s pretty impressive,” gasped Mayumi. “And Chocho-san, how do you feel about being overtaken by a gaijin?”
“Well,” Chocho-san began, “I was the youngest rikishi ever to make it to the rank of yokozuna. Furanko-san can never take that away from me. And we were jointly appointed as the first two yokozuna of supasumo.”
“How did the crowd receive the first supasumo tournament today?” asked Mayumi.
“Well,” I jumped in, “You and the audience at home have seen footage of the event on the news. As you all well know, the live audience went absolutely wild about it. I’ve never seen Japanese people show so much emotion before… And we have no reason to believe that the audience at home reacted any less enthusiastically.”
“The suparikishi are obviously much bigger than conventional rikishi,” Mayumi explained for the benefit of the audience, “and you two are bigger than all the rest of them. How did you achieve such spectacular weight gain in such a short space of time?”
“We haven’t put on any more weight,” I asserted provocatively.
“Oh, come on!” exclaimed Mayumi. She frowned and looked quite perplexed. “It’s as plain as a nose on a face that you’re all at least twice the size you were three months ago.”
“Bigger, yes,” Chocho-san intervened diplomatically, “but not heavier. We bought Belly Inflation Kits. That’s how we got to be so big.”
“You b-bought what?” Mayumi stuttered in disbelief.
“Yes,” Chocho-san reasserted, “We bought Belly Inflation Kits and blew ourselves up.”
“And how did you come by these belly-inflation kits?” inquired Mayumi.
“The company that supplies them,” I answered, “has a subsidiary in Japan. So, they’re very easy to come by.”
“And now I come to the question that all our viewers want to know about...” Mayumi’s voice trailed away to nothing. Then she resumed asking her next question, “Kamihara, Chocho-san, is there any truth in the rumour that you are lovers?”
“Yes,” I answered, “we are. We don’t try to hide the fact. I thought that it was common knowledge.”
“But, with your… hm…” she began, obviously at a loss as to how to put the question in a delicate manner and gesticulating to hint at bellies, “with your… er… you know… How on earth do you manage to make love?”
And now it was Chocho-san’s turn to be the diplomat. He explained, “That is a problem, which we rikishi solved many centuries ago. If anyone wants to know the secrets of how a rikishi makes love to a woman or to another rikishi, then he must first become a rikishi himself.”
Suddenly, Mayumi inclined her head to the right, put her hand to her ear and faced straight into the camera. “And will you please excuse me for a moment. We have an incoming message.” She sat looking directly into the camera for half a minute. Then she continued, “We’re just getting news in from our technical support team that our telephone lines and website have been inundated with inquiries about where viewers can get Belly Inflation Kits from.”
Mayumi turned back to face Chocho-san and me. “OK, gentlemen, where can our viewers buy one of the Belly Inflation Kits from?”
“The company that make the kits,” I explained, “has a subsidiary called Gettagutsu in Japan. It’s based in Yokohama and has a website called Gettagutsu. For most places in Japan same-day delivery is possible.”
“Please write the name down,” said Mayumi, handing me a notepad and pen. I wrote the name down and handed the notepad back to her, whereupon she motioned an assistant over and handed her the page.
Turning back to face the camera squarely, she informed the audience, “Contact details of Gettagutsu will be made available on our website and displayed on the screen at the end of the programme for any viewers interested in buying a Belly Inflation Kit.”
Mayumi asked us about many other matters, such as how we came to be sumo wrestlers, our family background and our aspirations for the future. As we were escorted off the TV set, she moved on to the next interview in her programme.
That night, after a feast laid on at the beya for all the rikishi at Tanaka-san’s expense to celebrate the first success of supasumo, Chocho-san and I retired to our quarters to make love. Afterwards, we drifted off into a deep, refreshing sleep, blissfully unaware of the furore and craze that were about to overtake Japan.
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