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Late Night Fun In The Beya, Part 5
|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 email@example.com.]
21. Japan Inflates
The next day during morning training, there was a phone call for Chocho-san and me. It was from Nakamura-san, the head of marketing at Gettagutsu, the Japanese subsidiary of the Acme Novelty Company. He made a business offer to the two of us that we could not turn down. In return for several billion yen per annum each, we were offered contracts to appear in TV and cinema adverts for the Gettagutu’s Belly Inflation Kits. We were to appear in the adverts and give celebrity endorsements of these products. The only snag in the negotiations was that the film director wanted before and after shots and we were asked to deflate back to our original sizes. Naturally, we were both very reluctant to do this but a suitable compromise was soon agreed by both parties. All filming of us would be done, as we now were, and the before shots would be produced by editing the footage.
Gettagutsu’s Belly Inflation Kits started to sell at an unbelievable rate. Gettagutsu stores sprang up all over Japan. A few thousand sales a week was regarded as remarkable for a product, which it was reckoned would only appeal to a minority. In fact, before the Belly Inflation Kits had been mentioned on Mayumi’s show, only a few dozen of them had been sold worldwide. However, sales figures were soon rising exponentially.
To begin with, the Belly Inflation Kits were only being used in the privacy of the home. Gettagutsu’s website was inundated with emails from men, who were highly satisfied with the product, which they had bought. Although only men were blowing up like this, both men and women were emailing the company about the new and unexpected erotic delights that the company’s products had brought to their love lives.
Before long “belly parties” became all the rage. On Saturdays, groups of people would gather at someone’s house and inflate together. For some reason, it was only the men, who were having their bellies temporarily blown up, but the women present at these gatherings were taking just as much erotic delight in the proceedings as the men, who were blowing themselves up. All manner of games were invented to maximise the amount of fun to be had with a house full of big-bellied guys. Some groups of friends started having inflation competitions, in which the men were inflated until they could take no more and then they would all be measured to see who had the biggest belly. Other groups competed not for the biggest belly but the biggest gain in girth. The party games Twister, which had been popular in the 1960’s, suddenly started to be in great demand again, as placing one’s hands and feet on its coloured disks became much more difficult and much more arousing, when all the men playing it had such enormous bellies. Yet other groups of friends would blow up and hold their own sumo tournaments and it was inevitable that many people would engage in pretend supasumo championships.
Eventually, a few bold individuals started to venture out in public with their huge bellies. At this stage it was still a temporary thing. Guys would blow up on Saturday afternoon and then go on the town with their friends in the evening but they would deflate when the returned home that night or, at the very latest, the next morning. The big and tall shops started to make huge profits because of the extra clothes, which they sold to men engaging in inflation, whether in private, at parties or in public. Many big and tall shops offered Chocho-san and me lucrative contracts to do celebrity endorsements for them but we chose to remain loyal to Yamamoto-san.
And then, a new fashion developed. Some men were blowing themselves up and living that way all the time. It was very noticeable in Tokyo, where there was a steadily increasing number of men on the streets seen to be sporting sixty-inch, seventy-inch and even occasionally eighty-inch bellies.
By the time that a year had passed since our second TV interview with Mayumi, Gettagutsu’s sale statistics showed that the company had sold fifty million Belly Inflation Kits to Japanese men and that something in excess of 90% of male adults in the country had at least one of Gettagutsu’s kits.
One morning, the marketing director of Gettagutsu called Chocho-san and me on the telephone. He asked us to promote a new range of products for the company. He said that details of the products were to be kept top secret until the date of their official release onto the market in just over a week’s time. We were asked to make ourselves available to do as Gettagutsu required on the Saturday and Sunday of the following week. We were told not to breathe a word of these requirements to another living soul and to be ready for Gettagutsu to pick us up from the beya at 1.00pm the Saturday after next and to be transported to a secret venue. He also told us that later that day a consignment of a newly reformulated version of Strechidermis lotion would be delivered to us in unmarked flaggons. We were instructed to have ourselves massaged all over with the new Strechdermis lotion every evening before the “big day”. Nakamura-san seemed to be suppressing a giggle as he said the words “big day”.
22. (ビッグ•ベリ•クラブ) The Biggu Beri Kurabu
Eventually the “big day” arrived. Chocho-san and I kept to our word, having our assistants massage us with the new Strechidermis lotion every evening and not saying a word of what was going on to anyone, even to our fellow rikishi. However, the men of the Ginza and Shinjuku beya and, indeed, the whole of Japan were buzzing with rumour. In the Shinjuku district of Tokyo a large building had been refurbished. All of its signage was draped with tarpaulins and guards stood watch over the building day and night. All of Tokyo knew that something momentous was about to happen. The presence of similarly draped and guarded buildings in most other cities in the country only increased public suspicion of some great enterprise about to be made public. All Japan was tense in anticipation of it knew not what.
On the “big day” Chocho-san and I had lunch with the other rikishi and then went out into the garden to wait for the Gettagutsu van to arrive. The van was actually a corporate-furniture removal van, which Gettagutsu used for transporting large men. When the van arrived, punctually at 1.00pm, we were ushered into the back of the vehicle. After the van had turned a few corners, we lost track of where we were but the ride was not a long one. The vehicle came to an abrupt halt. We felt it rock as the driver and his mate clambered down from their high seats in the cab. We heard them come round to the rear of the vehicle and unbolt the doors. As we stepped out of the van, we instantly recognised the street in the Shinjuku district, to which we had been transported. We even recognised the building, in front of which the removal van had stopped. We knew that it had formerly been a large department store. We could, however, see nothing of its frontage nor of its signage, as the whole front of the building was draped with tarpaulins. There was no clue to be seen as to what the building’s new purpose might be.
When our eyes came down to ground level, we saw Nakamura-san and a delegation of Gettagutsu executives waiting in front of the building. There was a large media presence. As Chocho-san and I stepped onto the pavement a number of men and women with TV cameras and microphones pressed around us.
“Kamihara-san and Chocho-san,” a young woman spoke into the microphone that she was holding, “Can you tell us anything about what today’s promotion is about?” Then she thrust the microphone in my face.
“We probably know even less than you do,” I replied.
“Chocho-san,” she said, turning to my partner, “Can you tell us what new products Gettagutsu will be promoting today?”
“We’ve been told nothing,” he reaffirmed. “No doubt Nakamura-san will shortly inform the nation of the purpose of this gathering but we know nothing.”
The reporter looked quite vexed with this lack of information.
Suddenly, we heard Nakamura-san speaking in a loud voice above the rest of the crowd, starting his speech with the words, “Ladies and gentlemen, today Gettagutsu Company is pleased to welcome Japan to a new set of corporate ventures…” He carried on above the hubbub. Then he waited for the crowd to be silent and began his speech again from the beginning. The speech seemed interminable and said little. Nakamura-san spoke of “ventures” and “venues” and “facilities” but gave not the slightest hint of what was to be promoted that day. I timed the speech with my wristwatch and noted that it lasted three quarters of an hour or so. I’m not absolutely sure of its length, because I did not start timing it until I realised that it would be lengthy. At the end of the speech, all those present were still completely in the dark about what they were there for. Never since my childhood have I heard anyone use so many words to say so little. We learned that the building would at some time be unveiled and that more invited guests would arrive later but Nakamura-san gave not the slightest hint of what the day’s business was actually going to be. The relief of the crowd at the termination of Nakamura-san’s speech suddenly turned to dismay as he began to speak again.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, “I now invite Kamihara-san and Chocho-san to inaugurate the greatest venture that Gettagutsu Company has ever undertaken. As we witness this momentous occasion, similar inaugurations are happening simultaneously in cities all over Japan.”
Nakamura-san motioned to Chocho-san and me to move towards him. He then escorted each of us to opposite ends of the building and handed each of us the end of a rope, which was attached to the tarpaulins that veiled the building.
“Do not pull the ropes until I tell you,” he said sternly. “Simultaneously, similar ventures will be inaugurated across Japan at the stroke of half past two. When I lower my hand, you both pull on the ropes simultaneously.” He then spoke ad libitum for a few minutes. “In honour of the parent company, I will do the countdown in American.”
The crowd groaned with relief that something was finally going to happen. They muttered at each other in anticipation of actually finding out what they had been brought here for. Nakamura-san raised his right hand. He gazed at his watch for a few seconds. Then he declaimed, “Wan! Tsooo! Sureee!” and dropped his hand. Chocho-san and I pulled on the ropes but nothing happened. We pulled harder but still nothing. Nakamura-san stepped backwards in horror. People in the crowd mumbled to each other that things were not going according to plan. Chocho-san and I put all of our massive weight into the task. Our feet lifted off the ground and then we came back down with a sudden bump. The heavy tarpaulins started to peel away from the front of the old department store, slowly at first and then gathering pace under their own weight.
The building stood unveiled in the bright, afternoon sun. Everyone blinked and squinted in an attempt to read the signage, which totally filled the buildings upper storeys. It was obviously a neon sign but the dazzling rays of the sun made it very difficult to read. After half a minute, my eyes became began to pick out the glinting, glass words. They read in katakana script: “Biggu Beri Kurabu”. I could hear other onlookers slowly utter what to them were very strange words. The words “Biggu Beri Kurabu” seemed to echo about the crowd, revealing everyone’s puzzlement. I must have been the only person present who understood the words. Nakamura-san himself repeated the words to himself several times, revealing that he knew little more of the afternoon’s proceedings than any of the rest of us. “Biggu Beri Kurabu,” he repeated out loud a couple of times and then asked, “ビッグ•ベリ•クラブとはどう言う意味ですか。” (“Biggu Beri Kurabu to wa dō iu imi desu ka?” “What does Biggu Beri Kurabu mean?”)
I pressed through the crowd towards Nakamura-san as quickly as I could and then, leaning as close to his ear as my big belly would allow, I whispered, “大きい腹のクラブですよ。” (“Ōkii hara no kurabu desu yo.”) At this Nakamura-san let out an audible gasp of enlightenment and shouted out the words, that I had just whispered in his ear, to the crowd.
“It is Biggu Beri Kurabu,” Nakamura-san attempted to tell them in English. He continued in Japanese, “You tell them, Kamihara-san. I can’t say it.”
I stepped forward and, rubbing what I could reach of my vast paunch, I shouted, “It’s the Big Belly Club. Welcome to the Big Belly Club.” (Biggu Beri Kurabu is the closest pronunciation that most Japanese can get to “Big Belly Club”.)
“Hey, Nakamura,” heckled a young man from the back of the crowd, “you needed Kamikaze to save your bacon for you today, didn’t you?” (This was a pun on the word Kamikaze, which literally means Divine Wind a reference to the two storms, which saved Japan from invasion twice in mediaeval times and after which the kamikaze pilots were named. The biggest belly-inflation enthusiasts had given me the nickname Kamikaze, a reference to my professional name and to the fact that my vast belly was now composed mainly of “wind”.) The crowd roared with laughter at this joke, as I myself did. However, a less sympathetic group of police officers handcuffed the young heckler and took him into custody.
There was suddenly laughter and relief, as if people suddenly understood, what they had been invited to, but no one, including myself, Chocho-san and Nakamura-san, was really any the wiser. Various ideas flashed through my mind concerning the exact nature of this “venture” and I’m sure that at least some of these ideas ran through the minds of other people. Was it a shop where customers could buy Belly Inflation Kits? Was it a club, where big-bellied men could hang out together? Was it a venue, where inflation itself took place? Was it a place, where people would pay to stare at Chocho-san and me? Was it an upmarket male brothel with big-bellied male prostitutes to drive women wild? And there was one question, which took precedence over all the others. Had I let the cat out of the bag prematurely? In the Japanese corporate world (if you will excuse the pun), I could be in serious hot water for letting the old maneki neko (“beckoning cat”) out of the bag.
“And now for the guided tour of our new establishment,” announced Nakamura-san, in an attempt to bring some order back into the proceedings. The crowd parted to let him pass, as he made his way to the huge double doors. He took a minute to unlock them and then two of his assistants swung them open. “Follow me,” he exhorted and motioned first to Chocho-san and me to follow him and then to the crowd to do likewise.
We all followed Nakamura-san through the huge door and down a spacious corridor. On the right, we passed two large counters with partitions lowered, because they were not in service. So, we could not see what they were for. The corridor turned to the left and led into a huge room, which was the size of a small sports stadium. Gettagutsu must have bought the whole block to accommodate their new premises. Two sides of the room were taken up by a drinks bar and a third side was taken up by a fast-food bar. In one corner of the room, there was a big dais, only slightly raised above the rest of the floor and roped off from the rest of the room. Above this dais was a sign, which read somewhat mysteriously, “No entry into this area is permitted except under staff supervision.”
The company delegates and media personnel wondered aimlessly about and gazed at all the empty space. They must have wondered why there was so much fuss over just another bar or nightclub in Shinjuku. Presently, the crowd gathered around Nakamura-san in the hope of finding out more about the mysterious “venue”. He launched into another speech, in which he announced that shortly a number of specially selected members of the public would be arriving as special guests for the opening night and that, once they had arrived, some light refreshments would be provided. Eventually, two of Nakamura-san’s assistants showed about thirty men into the huge bar. They were all quite typically Japanese looking men, none of them being conspicuous on account of their size.
Suddenly the room was full of waiters. Portable trestle tables were brought into the room and set up. The waiters made sure that we were all comfortably seated at the tables and then an early dinner was served. It was a gargantuan feast comprising every popular Japanese dish that anyone could wish for. Chocho-san and I, of course, had the waiters place our dishes of food on top of our bellies, as we couldn’t reach the table. The cameramen lapped this spectacle up.
As appetites were nearing satiety, Nakamura-san addressed those present again. “Ladies and gentlemen, the time has come to reveal the new products, which Gettagutsu is launching this evening.”
“First of all we have a new skin-care product called Super-stretchidermis Lotion. Like the Stretchidermis Lotion that you are all familiar with, this lotion is for use for a week prior to inflation to promote elasticity of the skin, so that even greater sizes can now be achieved. Our invited guests, including Kamihara-san and Chocho-san, have been using the new lotion for just over a week now. They have been specially selected for this evening’s promotion of our new products by virtue of the fact that their psychological profiles show that they all have deep-seated desires to be men of great size.”
“Our second product range is the Biggu Beri Kurabu, like this one, which have opened all over the country this afternoon. Each one has a bar, like this one, where food and drinks can be purchased and where inflation takes place under the supervision of trained inflators. In each of our clubs, there is a changing room. You can bring your own larger clothes to change into or you can buy or hire garments from our own in-house big-and-tall shops. I will show you where our changing room and our big-and-tall shop are shortly. Our clubs have cloakrooms and Belly Inflation Kit stores. You passed ours on the way in earlier this afternoon.”
“Our third product range is a new range of Belly Inflation Kits, which offer various selections of inflation equipment at much more economical rates than have previously been available.”
“So, I ask our specially selected guests if they are ready for an experience that no one else has yet enjoyed. Please follow me.”
Nakamura-san stood up and walked towards the door. Everyone got up and followed him. First, we were shown the cloakroom. As it was quite a warm spring evening, no one had a coat or jacket to leave there but we all had to hire a locker and receive a key for it.
We were then shown the Belly Inflation Kit store with its array of equipment and kits, and its price list. None of us wanted to buy anything this particular evening but it was very noticeable that everyone took a copy of Gettagutsu’s new catalogue.
Nakamura-san then led us down another corridor to the big-and-tall shop, which stocked clothes in sizes that most people wouldn’t even think were possible. Chocho-san and I both chose to buy a pair of the biggest shorts that they had in stock. The other special guests were also buying or hiring clothes in very ambitious sizes.
Finally, we were led into the spacious locker room. Nakamura-san called for two assistants to help Chocho-san and me to change into our new shorts. Our shorts had elasticated waistbands, which held them in place, but some of the other guys had to hold their pants or shorts up with their hands. Some of the guys chose to wear tops and others chose to go topless. By now the anticipation of having our wildest dreams fulfilled was generating intense excitement. Nakamura-san led us back into the bar and it was immediately noticed by all that there were now cylinders of various compressed gasses standing about the room and various other items of inflation equipment were to be seen here and there. Bartenders were now serving at the drinks bar and the fast-food bar, and staff members in bartenders’ uniforms were now standing on the dais. One of them unhooked one of the links of rope and called out, “OK, who’s first?” A rather shy-looking young man in a baggy shirt and baggy jeans that he had to hold up with his hands, stepped forward and replied, “Me.”
“What’s your name?” asked the bartender.
“Yuichi,” the young man said hesitantly, as he stepped up onto the dais.
The bartender offered Yuichi his choice of gases. I couldn’t tell which one he chose. The bartender attached a length of tubing to a cylinder and a hypodermic needle to the other end of the tube. One of the other bartenders unbuttoned Yuichi’s shirt, grabbed the skin of his belly and pulled it until it was stretched a good two feet ahead of the rest of the young man’s body. Everyone started yelling at the bartenders to get on with the inflation. The first bartender carefully inserted the needle into Yuichi’s stretched belly skin and did up all but two of the buttons on his shirt. By now the crowd was roaring, “Pump him! Pump him!” As the valve on the cylinder was opened, little if anything seemed to be happening at first. Then one of the bartenders opened the valve a little further and Yuichi’s belly started to swell up beneath his oversized garments. At first, Yuichi looked terrified. I would imagine that this was the first time that he had ever done anything like this. Soon, Yuichi’s belly formed a cute, little hemisphere but he still needed to hold on to his voluminous pants. He reminded me of myself, when I was younger. The bartender by the cylinder shut off the valve to give Yuichi a breathing space. The other bartender spun Yuichi round to face the far wall, which was a huge mirror. A look of delight spread across Yuichi’s face. He caressed his little ball-belly fondly with one hand, while still holding his pants up with the other. His fear was gone now. He had learned that inflation is a relatively painless process and his body was now more like what he had always wanted it to be. I couldn’t hear what he said to the guy operating the valve but the movement of his lips suggested to me that he had said the word “more” several times. The crowd was now wild with excitement. They were now chanting in unison, “Pump him! Pump him!” The bartender turned the valve open little by little. Yuichi’s belly was growing again. Half a minute later Yuichi’s belly was rapidly pushing forwards. Then it started to gain in width as well. He pulled his shirt forwards to make more room for his now massive gut. He found that he could let go of his jeans and they were now snug enough to stay up by themselves.
“Had enough yet?” yelled the bartender, who was standing by the cylinder.
“More! More!” shouted Yuichi, getting caught up in the enthusiasm of the crowd. His belly got bigger and bigger. His jeans grew tight around and under his colossal belly. Since his jeans could accommodate no further expansion, his gut spilled out over the top of them. Finally, his belly swelled up so huge, that the fabric of his shirt pulled apart between the buttons to reveal sensuous slivers of bulging belly. The bartender turned the valve shut.
“More! More!” cried Yuichi and the crowd echoed his words.
“I think that you’ve had quite enough for one night, sir,” said the bartender, as he patted Yuichi’s huge belly. The crowd roared with laughter to hear the words that all bartenders had to say to customers many times every evening.
As he removed the needle from Yuichi’s belly and put a puncture-repair patch over the hole, the other barman on the dais said, “You might be able to take more but I don’t think your shirt can.” He did up Yuichi’s two open buttons and patted the quivering orb of belly that now stuck our over three feet ahead of the rest of the young man.
“Let’s measure you up,” said one of the bartenders, as he took a tape measure from his pocket. It took two of them to fit the tape around Yuichi’s gargantuan girth.
The bartender peered at the point where the tape came together and announced loudly, “Ninety-two inches!”
Yuichi admired his new physique in the mirror. He lovingly caressed his bloated belly and then, thrusting it proudly before him, he stepped off the dais and pressed into the crowd. People reached out to feel his vast paunch and Yuichi was lapping up all of this attention.
Yuichi made his way over to Chocho-san and me. “I want to be one of you,” he said.
“What, a suparikishi?” asked Chocho-san.
“Yeah, eventually,” replied Yuichi.
“You already are one of us. Just look at you now!” I said encouragingly to the young blimp, as I affectionately pressed my belly against his. As he reached forward to feel my belly, he found that it was no longer as easy as it used to be to touch what was in front of him. His belly now stretched further ahead of him than his arms could reach.
“When you’ve got such a huge gut, it’s often easiest to approach things sideways on,” I suggested. He did a quarter turn and placed his hand on my ball-gut. He rubbed its great, sweeping curves with such obvious fondness as to reveal that he was gay. He patted the top of my belly, moved away and raised his hand in a salute.
We watched Yuichi meet up with his friends again and explore the “venue”. His awkwardness in moving around with his new bulk brought back fond memories for Chocho-san and me. The way, in which he would bump into his friends and acquaintances, almost knocking them over with his huge gut, brought sympathetic smiles to both our faces. He had no idea when to stop walking now that his body came to an end a couple of feet in front of where he was used to end. We found that his first trip to the bar to buy a beer was particularly delightful to watch. He walked over to the bar and was suddenly startled, when his belly bumped unexpectedly into it. He lifted his forearms and tried to lean forwards to rest his elbows on the top of the bar. It took him several seconds to realize that he was no longer capable of assuming this posture. He then seemed to be at a loss as to what to do with his hands. He fumbled around with them and finally found that he could rest them palms down on top of his jutting belly shelf. One of the bartenders came over to serve him. The barman leaned across the counter of the bar, in order to enable the two of them to speak and hear each other more easily above the noise of background music and conversation. Once again, Yuichi found his new belly hindering his movement. He couldn’t lean forwards to speak in the barman’s ear.
“Can I help you?” asked the barman quite loudly.
“A large Asahi Light,” replied Yuichi raising his voice slightly but he was not quite loud enough for the barman to hear.
“What was that?” boomed the barman.
“A large Asahi Light,” yelled Yuichi.
The barman grabbed a bottle out of the fridge, opened it and carefully poured the beer into a glass. He placed the glass only halfway across the counter, not realizing the difficulty that this would cause his customer. “That will be ¥1,200,” the barman bellowed.
Yuichi’s right hand moved instinctively towards the right front pocket of his jeans, in order to take out his wallet. He looked quite shocked to find that there was no pocket, where he had expected one to be. I gestured to Chocho-san to follow me and we waddled towards Yuichi, in order to offer him some assistance. I approached Yuichi from behind and slid my paunch to his right across his seductively bulging love-handle. He was startled and turned his head. A smile spread across his face, when he saw that it was me.
I leaned my head as close to his ear as our huge bodies would allow and whispered, “It’s a lot further forwards than you expect.” We watched his hand feel further and further forwards round his voluminous underbelly. “A bit further…A bit further…” we kept coaching him.
Eventually, Yuichi’s right hand found the opening of the right front pocket of his jeans and slipped his fingers inside it. For a brief moment he looked quite relieved but then realized that he could not reach deeply enough into the pocket to retrieve his wallet. I was breathing quite heavily and could feel my vast paunch heaving in and out against Yuichi’s gorgeous, big love-handle. I was feeling quite aroused by the fact that our bulges were pressed so intimately together. I leaned more deeply, and more arousingly, into the young man. “Allow me to help you,” I whispered.
I ran my left hand forward round the beautiful hemisphere that was Yuichi’s underbelly. I enjoyed taking more time than was absolutely necessary to explore this lovely orb of flesh. I found the pocket and slipped my hand inside. Instead of retrieving his wallet immediately, I made a pretence of fumbling for it, so that I could savour the perfect, round firmness of his young ball-gut. It was only when I started to feel my shaft pulsating that I grabbed the wallet and pulled it out of its sensuous hiding-place.
“Turn your side to the bar.” I advised, as I placed the wallet in his hand. “It will make things easier to reach.”
While Yuichi was paying for his beer, Chocho-san and I came to an agreement to invite him round to the beya for the following Saturday’s “blow-up” party.
Yuichi’s hand went instinctively to put his wallet back in the pocket, from which he had just had so much difficulty extracting it.
“I think that you need to keep that in a different pocket from now on,” I advised him.
Chocho-san and I were amused to see him struggle to try to put it in one of the two rear pockets of his jeans. First he tried to put the wallet in his right rear pocket, then his left rear pocket, then the right one again.
“I don’t understand,” he exclaimed. “It’s belly inflation, not butt inflation.”
“It’s because your belly is wider now,” I explained, “and because the inflation has also given you a pair of lovely, big love-handles.”
“Ah,” he said as if understanding how his new body worked. It was, nevertheless, obvious that he was still somewhat puzzled.
“Put it in your shirt pocket,” I said.
He slipped the wallet into his shirt pocket.
“Before you go back to your friends,” I said, “Chocho-san and I would like to invite you to the Ginza Beya next Saturday afternoon. You can stay for the feast and the “blow-up” party that we’ll be having in the evening.”
“Oh, thank you!” he replied. “I’ll really look forward to that. I idolize you guys.”
Yuichi went back to his friends. Chocho-san and I watched him with amusement for some time. All through the evening, he kept unintentionally belly-bumping people and objects. It was one of the cutest cases of what we suparikishi and inflators had started to refer to as “fresh belly”. “Fresh belly” had become the fashionable term for the awkward movements and amusing accidents, to which men, who are not used to the size of their bellies, are prone. Tales of such incidents were now very popular on the Internet in Japan.
Our attention gradually refocused on the event, in which we had been invited to participate. It was certainly delightful to witness the virtually instant creation of so many huge bellies but it was a little wearisome to watch the same thing happening about three dozen times over. The rest of the company were obviously more enthusiastic for the evening’s proceedings than Chocho-san and I were. We were surrounded all day and every day by a whole company of the world’s largest men. For most of those present, “blow-up” parties were only a recreational activity, if that, and this would be the most spectacular inflation event that many of them had ever attended. The enthusiasm of the crowd showed no sign of abating, at least if their constant chanting of the words “Pump him! Pump him!” was anything to judge by. The room soon filled with men sporting girths ranging from about sixty inches to one hundred and twenty inches. We only paid attention to the men with the biggest bellies and there never seemed to be any chance of any of them coming close to our size.
As the evening progressed, the room became more and more tightly packed. This wasn’t because more people were arriving at the “venue”. The space was being filled up by expanding bellies. Towards the end of the evening, it was becoming quite difficult to move around. Huge bellies were constantly bumping into each other. Moving from one part of the room to another seemed constantly to entail tight squeezes between two or more other men. The whole room had become a vast, seething mass of distended belly and I’m sure that mine was not the only member that was in a constant state of engorgement at the sight and touch of this army of tightly packed bellies.
23. The Grand Finale
Suddenly, everyone’s attention turned to the dais, as Mr. Nakamura’s voice started to boom out of the loudspeakers, “Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention, please?” I don’t think that I was the only person present, who felt disappointment that we were going to hear yet another of Mr. Nakamura’s interminable speeches, which said nothing at all.
“Your attention, please… Your attention, please…” he continued. “And now we come to our grand finale. Kamihara and Chocho-san, of whom you have no doubt heard…” and he gestured at us. A spotlight suddenly illuminated the pair of us and the crowd started to cheer and applaud. I felt a little indignant about the fact that it was only at this juncture that we had learned that we were to be the grand finale of this event.
“As you know, Kamihara and Chocho-san are the two biggest men, who have ever lived,” he continued, when the audience had fallen silent. “Tonight, you will see them grow even bigger. Chocho-san, Kamihara, please step up onto the dais…” and his words were lost, as the crowd erupted into a frenzy chanting and clapping. We squeezed our way between the bellies of the adulating crowd and stepped up to stand beside Mr. Nakamura and the inflation assistants. Mr. Nakamura soon realized that the crowd would not be silenced until they had witnessed the spectacle that they had come here for. He gestured to Chocho-san to step forward first. This gesture also made it clear, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that it was I, who was to be the grand finale. The crowd was now chanting “Pump them! Pump them!”
Chocho-san stepped towards the two inflation assistants. He was wearing nothing but his elasticated, denim shorts. He had broken into a sweat from the intense excitement. His vast, hemispherical belly glistened and sparkled like some resplendent planet basking in the glow of a warm, bright sun. One of the assistants attached a new hypodermic needle to the tube of a cylinder of gas and plunged its sharp point into his belly. The other assistant gradually opened the valve of the cylinder. At first, nothing seemed to be happening. The assistant turned the tap a little further. Soon, Chocho-san’s belly seemed to be stretching just a fraction of an inch at a time further ahead of him. He was ever so slowly filling out, gaining greater width and greater protuberance. I soon realized that the fabric of his denim shorts was becoming very tightly stretched across the sublimely beautiful quarter-circle described by his swelling underbelly. I gazed with wonder and delight upon the man that I loved, as he assumed even more magnificently seductive proportions than I had ever dreamed it possible for a man to achieve. Before long, his shorts we so taught across his lower gut, that the seams looked ready to rip apart. I could not hear the sounds that accompanied this thrilling spectacle above the frenzied chanting, clapping and stamping of feet. I could only imagine the sounds that I might hear, if only the crowd were silent. In my inner ear, I heard the sound of gas escaping from the valve of the cylinder and from the pin-prick in my lover’s belly. I could hear the seams of his short tearing apart, the squeaking sound made by his tight belly skin slipping across the bursting denim, my lover’s deepening breath as his breathing was being made more difficult as his burgeoning belly thrust up against his diaphragm and eventually the resounding twang of the elastic of his waistband snapping. As if this sight wasn’t wonderful enough, I had slipped into the realm of my own fantasies. As I snapped out of my reverie, I found myself gazing upon the most sexually arousing sight that I had ever seen. Chocho-san had become unbelievable huge. His shorts were no longer capable of containing any more of his vastly swollen paunch, which was now starting to spill seductively over the top of his elasticated waistband. He was breathless and my own breathing was becoming heavy with the passion inflamed by this wonderful vision of perfect manhood. I realized that I could feel the pulsation taking place between my legs and the warm, sticky moistness spreading down my inner thigh. I wondered which would burst first – Chocho-san’s belly or my throbbing member. Chocho-san eventually raised his hand towards the inflation assistant to indicate that he could take no more. The latter closed the valve of the cylinder and the other assistant deftly removed the hypodermic needle and put the puncture-repair patch in place. He then steered Chocho-san through a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn, so that he could admire his own, newly bulkier form. He stood gazing with rapturous delight at his own image, fondly caressing what little of his massively bloated ball-gut that he could reach with his hands.
It was impossible to hear Mr. Nakamura speaking above the deafening din of the constant chanting of the words “Pump them! Pump them!” However, I could tell from his gestures that he was calling for a tape-measure to ascertain Chocho-san’s circumference. Knowing that I would not be able to hear the figure being announced above the roar of the crowd, I stepped forward and up onto the dais. As I slipped past Mr. Nakamura, my belly glanced against Chocho-san’s and the latter reeled from the impact, as he had not yet become accustomed to taking up so much more space than he was used to occupying. As Chocho-san staggered around, the rhythm of the chant changed. They were now chanting “Fresh belly! Fresh belly!” A few seconds later they reverted to chanting “Pump them! Pump them!”
The two inflation assistants wrapped the tape-measure around Chocho-san’s middle and and one of them stooped to read out the figure. I leaned forward to read the number for myself. Chocho-san’s girth was now a massive two hundred and one inches. The number brought a strangely bitter-sweet emotion welling up inside me. It felt so good to be the partner of such a mammoth of a man. However, my dreams of being the biggest, fattest rikishi, who had ever lived, with the biggest belly ever recorded, were now dashed. My earlier resentment at being the grand finale of this “event” now changed to determination to reclaim my place in the record books. “You want a grand finale, Nakamura-san,” I thought. “I’ll give you all the fucking grand finale that you want and more besides!”
I stepped towards one of the inflation assistants, caught his eye and pointed at my belly, in order to let him know that I was ready. He had already attached a fresh needle to the end of the tubing and, without a moment’s hesitation, he plunged it into my belly. With his right hand he turned an imaginary tap clockwise so as to signal to his colleague to open the valve. I rubbed my hand across the vast expanse of my belly shelf but nothing yet seemed to be happening. The second assistant opened the valve of the cylinder a little more. I became vaguely aware that gas was escaping from something or other but I realized that I certainly could not hear its arousing hiss above the hysterical screaming of the crowd. A few moments later, I became aware that my hands, which were resting on top of my belly, had moved slightly further apart. My colossal man-gut was growing some more. It was a delicious sensation, as if my paunch was a gigantic ball of erectile tissue in the process of engorgement. I don’t mind admitting that my belly wasn’t the only part of me, which was swelling. Before long, I was once again much bigger than Chocho-san. I felt my denim shorts grow so tight that the seams would very likely split open. I felt the elastic waistband of my shorts cutting into my unimaginably huge circumference. As there was no more room in my shorts for any more belly, I assumed that it was starting to spill over my waistband as Chocho-san’s belly had done but my back was to the mirror and my hands had not been able to reach all the way down to my “overspill” for a couple of years now. Eventually, I was overcome by the orgasmic sensation of being close to bursting point. Copying the inflation assistant’s gesture, I raised my hand and turned an imaginary tap anticlockwise. The other assistant turned off the valve and his colleague removed the needle and patched me up. I was disorientated and reeling from the difficulty that I had in coordinating such an immense body. It was now my turn to amuse the crowd with a display of “fresh belly”. I belly-bumped Chocho-san, Mr. Nakamura and the two assistants, before I gained my balance and stood still and upright.
The two assistants came towards me with the extra-long tape-measure. They wrapped it carefully around me and read out the measurement, which no one could hear above the cheers, clapping and stamping of the spectators. I beckoned to them and one of them reached over my shoulder to show me the measurement, which he indicated with his thumb on the tape. My eyes almost popped out of their sockets at the sight of his thumb on the two-hundred-and-fifty-one inch mark. Chocho-san and I stepped off the dais to mingle with the crowd and it was only at this juncture that we found that there was much less space left in the room to move about. This most monumental of all “blow-up” parties lasted until the sun was coming up. It was disappointing to have to deflate back to our normal sizes again but we were gratified by the decision of a few brave souls to buy clothes from the in-house big-and-tall shop and live the rest of their lives as men of girth. Amongst these men was our new, young protégé, Yuichi.
“Don’t forget about two o’clock next Saturday,” I called to him as we came out of the main entrance to the Big Belly Club.
“How could I?” he yelled back. “And thank you.”
“For what?” asked Chocho-san.
“For this…” he said, rubbing his firm, round ball-gut provocatively.
We waived each other good-bye, and Chocho-san and I took each other by the hand and started to saunter at a leisurely pace in the direction of Ginza.
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