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Inflation Part 2
"That’s only thirty pounds,” he said, his disappointment evident.
"That’s three times what I gained in my first two months,” I remarked. In a year, you’ll be over 300lb.” Paul nodded his agreement.
As my girth grew even greater, I found that my clothes were getting very tight. One night after a vast pig-out, my lower shirt buttons popped, no longer to contain my forward straining belly. I had to undo my belt and pants to let out the slack.
"That gut looks great on you,” said Paul and he came over and massaged the whole expanse of my burgeoning belly.
The next morning, I got out of bed and dressed. I knew that I could not get into my usual gear. So, I selected one of the 10XL shirts and a pair of 10XL pants, which I had bought years ago, when I still only had a prosthetic belly. They fitted very snugly. I admired myself in the mirror, caressing what I knew to be a 78” belly. I realised that Mr. Maani’s store stocked no larger sizes. So, from now on I would have to have all my clothes custom made.
When my birthday came around again we had another party, again with food and beer provided by caterers. It was the same select little circle of gainer Sumo wrestlers. After the mammoth feast came the moment we had all been waiting for, the weigh-in and measurement. I stepped onto the scales first and found that I weighed a massive 625lb. Paul followed me to clock up 580lb. Michael tipped the scales at a good 335lb. One of the wrestlers took the tape measure, which was obviously not going to fit around the vast circumferences of Paul and myself. After several minutes of fumbling around my waist, he announced, "Ninety-four inches.” Several more minutes later, he had ascertained Paul’s girth to be 88”. He had no difficult in measuring Michael’s slender 55” waist. Although, he was a little envious of the more corpulent figures that Paul and I were now sporting, Michael was obviously very pleased with his first year’s achievement.
The next morning, Paul and I awoke to find that we could no longer fit in the shower. Michael had to fetch a bowl of water and sponge us both down. This cautioned us that it was time to have the interior of our flat modified to fit our growing bodies better. We decided that at the same time as having a new shower cabinet installed, we may as well have the rest of the house renovated to accommodate our new bulk better. We hired a building contractor to do the work.
When the three men from Depp’s Building Contractors arrived for the first time at our doorstep, their eyes nearly popped out of their heads at the incredible size of myself and Paul. For the first few days there were sniggers, as we walked past them or comments like, "It’s a wonder those two guys don’t fucking explode.”
However, we looked after the three guys well, giving them breakfast dinner and lunch, as well as snacks in between. We gave them a slab of beer to take home with them each night. We offered them to partake of our other five daily meals but they declined. I can’t imagine why. We soon got on amicably with the three of them and two of them became close friends, who still visit us regularly. They installed the new custom made shower compartment first, as Paul and I longed to have a proper shower. They also removed all of the interior doors, knocked out the walls for as much of their length as was structurally safe and installed wide folding doors, which could be left open to make the apartment completely open plan. Fortunately we had a ground-floor apartment and the ranch-slider doors were wide enough for our current and any foreseeable needs. The men put some special custom made fittings in the kitchen for ease of use, such as extra long levers on the taps at the kitchen sink as my mountainous paunch now made it almost impossible for me to reach the existing taps. The work took about a fortnight altogether. At the same time we disposed of the beds in both bedrooms and installed a double layer of Japanese tatami mats over the entire floor. We did not need mattresses to sleep any more, as we each had enough soft padding of our own.
As soon as the renovations were finished, Paul moved in officially, as his own place was getting too small for him. At the same time we hired a houseboy. His name was Anthony. He lived just down the road, which was very convenient, and was a chef, which qualified him admirably for the job, as his main task would be to prepare our eight daily meals and various snacks. He was a friend of Michael’s, who had suggested hiring a houseboy in the first place.
"He’s an encourager but not a gainer,” said Michael.
"Thank God for that,” retorted Paul. "We’re running out of room around here.” And he jiggled his voluminous gut up and down with him beefy hands.
I had sporadically continued searching the Internet for information on inflation but to no avail, until one day I received an email from a guy in America, who gave me the email address of a gainer-encourager cosmetic surgeon, who had performed an inflatable abdominal implant for him. My mind raced at the thought of being able to grow without limit. I exchanged a flurry of emails with the surgeon, who was willing to do what I wanted. When all of the details were sorted out, I explained to Paul and Michael exactly what my treatment would entail. I told them that I would be away for about a month. My surgery would include inflatable implants in my abdomen, breasts and buttocks and that it would be done laporoscopically, so as to cause minimal scarring. The tubes for he implants would come out through a set of valves implanted in my crotch. The abdominal implant would also have a tube inlet embedded invisibly in my penis for erotic purposes. This last detail caused Paul to raise his eyebrows inquisitively. I would have a special tissue-softening treatment that would give my tissues greater elasticity. The treatment would also include an initial supervised inflation. The guys were very pleased for me and could not wait to see the results.
I made arrangements for my trip. I bought two plane tickets for San Francisco. I need two to accommodate my width. However, for the return journey I made arrangements to travel in the freight compartment of the plane. I also called the Big and Tall shop in San Francisco to have some new custom made clothes ready to pick up on my arrival. At first the thought that the call was a joke and refused to take the order. So, I had the money electronically transferred to their account and called them again. They still thought that it was a hoax. So, I told them that it didn’t matter if it was a joke, as I had already paid for the garments. They called back a week later to say that my order was ready to pick up.
Michael drove me to the airport in our large van, Paul and I sitting in the back, as our bellies could no longer fit comfortably in the front of the van. The flight itself was uneventful. I arrived in San Francisco and checked into the hotel. In the morning I had to call room service for help getting dressed, as I could no longer reach to do up my pants. They boy assisted me as if he was quite accustomed to helping dress a guy with a 94’ girth. I picked up the new clothes from Big and Tall and returned to the hotel. The next day I transferred to the clinic.
Chris, my cosmetic surgeon, turned out to be an amicable and handsome guy with a moustache. He must wave weighed about 350lb. He explained that my operation would be tomorrow and that I would spend the next couple of days recovering in the clinic. After that, I would be transferred to his house as his personal guest and my supervised inflation would take place there. Chris then called for a nurse, who escorted me to my room.
I remember little of the day of the operation. I woke up in the morning to find a nurse standing over me. She gave me my pre-med to swallow with water. I remember my stomach growling with hunger. I couldn’t remember when I had last been without food for more than an hour. A short while later, two orderlies came and wheeled my bed into the operating theatre. The anaesthetist gave me an injection in the arm and told me to start counting backwards from a hundred. I remember one hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight...
It was late afternoon, when I regained consciousness and I was back in my room. I remember feeling very lethargic and heavy but ecstatically happy. Chris came by to check up on my recovery and told me that I would be in the clinic for three more days before being transferred to his house. When the three days were up Chris came to collect me and take me to his home, where I was to spend the rest of my stay in America.
Chris went to work the next day before I was awake. Presently I heard someone moving about the house and wondered who it might be, My curiosity was soon satisfied, when a nurse knocked at the bedroom door and came in.
"Mr. White,” she said, "I’m Barbara and I’ve come to give you your injection and rub.”
I bared my left arm and she gave me the injection.
"You know what this is for, don’t you?” she explained. "It’s to make your tummy nice and stretchy. Now I need to give you your rub as well. Have you got anything on under those blankets?”
She grabbed the top of the blankets to uncover me. I felt very shy and tugged back on the blankets to stop her from removing them.
"Come on,” she said, "you haven’t got anything that I haven’t seen before.”
"I wouldn’t be too sure of that.” I retorted, thinking that she would not have seen a gut as big and bloated as mine before.
She pulled down the sheets and started to reassure me. "You’re not the only one who’s had this operation. I’ve had to do this for several patients. Come on, now, I’ve got to rub your whole body with this lotion.” She poured some of the colourless liquid into the palm of her hand and started to massage my quivering belly. She massaged my legs, arms, chest and sides. Then she made me role over onto my side to rub my back.
"How long will I have to have this done for?” I asked.
"About three weeks,” she explained, "The injections and the rubs are to soften up the tissues. We do them for a week prior to your supervised inflation and carry on for a few days after the inflation.”
Barbara also prepared and served most of my meals. She wasn’t a good cook but at least she kept me full.
At long last, the day for the start of my supervised inflation arrived. Chris came home in the evening and gave me a thorough check-up. Then he ushered me into a room with a large bed, some medical apparatus and a few gas cylinders in it. He got me to take my clothes off and lie down on the bed. He explained that the procedure would take about ten or fifteen minutes, during which time my waist would expand around three inches and my belly about ten. This would be done every day for about ten days. He then attached a number of small tubes to the valves inside my crotch. Then he pressed down a lever. I noticed a faint hissing sound. I watched in fascination as a meter clocked up figures counting the pre calculated amount of compressed air, with which I was to be inflated.
After a minute or so, I could feel my breasts and buttocks tighten up. I felt an intense rush of adrenalin permeate my entire system. I realised that my cock was starting to swell in sympathy with the rest of my expanding body. Then I started to feel pressure inside my belly. It took my breath away. I could see my gut slowly start to push forwards.
"It’s a great feeling, isn’t it?” said Chris.
"Yes,” I groaned, "It feels like having an enormous orgasm.”
"I can see that,” said Chris, pointing at my now fully erect and throbbing cock, which was starting to thrash against the underside of my ballooning belly. I happened to notice something of a bulge developing in his pants but said nothing.
After about fifteen minutes the meter suddenly stopped and so did the hissing sound of the compressed air. Chris removed the tubes from between my legs and took me back to my room. I felt both exhausted and elated as he helped me back into bed. He told me to get a good night’s rest and left the room.
For the next eight days we followed the same procedure. In the mornings, Barbara would give me my injection and my rub. In the evening, Chris would hook me up to his apparatus and press down the leaver. I would watch with increasing ecstasy as my belly pushed another three inches or so towards the ceiling.
On the tenth day Chris, followed the usual procedure. I watched as my gut maxed out to its final 180” circumference. As usual, my cock was erect and whipping around in all directions as pre-cum started to glisten about its tip. Chris could restrain him self no longer. The sight of me blimping up like an over-inflated barrage balloon was more than he could bare to watch. He clambered onto the bed and thrust my palpating penis into his mouth. I felt his moustache bristling against its tip and his tongue sensitively working my engorged glans. He thrust one hand into his pants to jerk himself off. His other hand fumbled frantically about my overblown gut. He could not contain himself. Rivers of sweat ran from both of us. Our vast bodies heaved and shuddered. We gasped and groaned and grunted like pigs. At the moment when the meter and the compressed air shut down, we both erupted into a simultaneous climax. The orgasm seemed to last an eternity as we both pumped out thick milky fluid by what seemed to be the tank-load. We collapsed into a mutual embrass, our fat bellies pressing and undulating sensuously against each other. We lay there some considerable time before he took me to sleep in his bed.
The next morning Chris helped me to get into my new clothes for the first time. I chose to wear a grey shirt and pants, because there is no colour better for emphasizing bulk and obesity. He old me that he had a little surprise for me in the evening to celebrate our achievement. Barbara came and gave my usual treatment and meals during the day. I awaited Chris’s return anxiously, wanting to find out what his surprise was.
Chris came home, showered and changed. Then he took me outside and led me into the back of a removal van, which he had hired. I shut me in the back of the vehicle and got itto the front of the van to drive. I had no idea, where we were going. Eventually, we ground to a halt. Chris opened up the back of the van and led me out by the hand and into a bar. "This is my favourite chubs-and-chasers club,” he said, as he led me inside. I realised that he had brought me here to show me off as his latest creation. As we entered, everyone’s eyes turned towards me and there were gasps of amazement. I could hear people making comments like, "Wow, look at the size of that guy’s belly.” Half of the guys in the place were big fat men but none was as fat as me. Several guys came up to me and introduced themselves, wanting to caress and prod my unnaturally swollen belly. Chris ordered some food. I wondered how we were going to eat it, as there was no way that I could eat from a table with a gut that now protruded about three and a half feet in front of me. But I found there were no problems, as men both fat and thin queued up to clamber over my vastly corpulent frame to stuff more food into my mouth than I could eat. I could not believe the experience. Here I was the biggest fattest blimp in all of human history and men were all over me. They couldn’t get enough of me. They were crowding around me. pushing and shoving each other as they contended for their turn to fatten me up even more. This was heaven for me but I could see that Chris was uneasy. He had brought me here to show me off but he hadn’t expected that he would have so much competition for me. It was not long before Chris suggested going home. We slept together and had incredibly good sex again, as we did for the remaining nights of my stay but Chris never ventured to take me out in public again. I was to hot for that.
On the day of my departure, Chris drove me to the freight terminal at the airport. The freight handlers were at first shocked to see their strange cargo but soon started to fall around in fits of uncontrollable laughter. I was prepared for this sort of response from people and was quite prepared to put up with it for the rest of my life. Chris, however, got angry and shouted, "Shut up all of you and just show this guy where to go!”
One of the security guards came over to us and said. "We’ll have to weigh him first.” He showed me to the scales and I stepped onto them. "Six hundred and fifty-five pounds!” he yelled out for all to hear. The staff started to laugh uncontrollably again. Chris’ anger flared again and he flushed bright red with rage. I could not help bursting into laughter. I saw the funny side of it. They were all laughing at how heavy I was. I thought it highly amusing that they didn’t realise that I was actually remarkably light for someone of my bulk.
"Would you like to come this way, sir?” the security guard asked, gesturing me to follow him.
I turned to Chris, who flung his body against mine trying to reach his hands about my impossibly encompassable girth. His lips reached out to mine. I tried to lean as far forwards as I could to receive his lips against mine but they still didn’t meet, as my belly now protruded too far to allow that. So. I lifted him up over my gut with my right arm. His feet were dangling in mid-air but our lips finally met. That kiss lasted for a couple of minutes. The laughter stopped now. Perhaps, the onlookers were shocked that anyone could have feelings for an overstuffed blimp like myself. I put Chris down and followed the security guard. I was relieved to be winched up into the cargo hold along with all of the other freight, as I would not have been able to see my feet to climb the steps onto the plane.
The flight went without incident, which was hardly surprising as I was the only person in the cargo hold.
I got through customs with the expected jibes and snide remarks but I didn’t mind. I was on a high. My dream of a lifetime had come true. The freight van, which I had ordered, arrived exactly on time. Its driver seemed not even to notice my size. He helped me into the back of the van and loaded up my luggage. He was so polite. I’m sure he must have been a closet chaser. When we arrived home he carried my luggage. He opened the ranch sliders and took all of my suitcases into the apartment. I gave him a generous tip and he left.
"I’m home,” I shouted.
Paul was the first to emerge from our bedroom. It was still early morning. "Shit!” he exclaimed, "Look at the fucking size of you.”
"You knew I’d be bigger than when I left,” I said.
"Not this fucking big,” he said. He tried to embrace me not realising that it would be impossible to get his arms around me. He tried to kiss me but found that was not possible either. So, he patted and fondled my enormous paunch.
Michael entered the room and was speechless. He walked over to me and stroked my huge gut to see if it was real.
We sat down to a hearty breakfast, Michael and Paul having to feed me by hand now. That afternoon Michael constructed a special tray for me to eat from. It had two large U-shaped pieces of plastic attached to it to fit over my shoulders, so that I could feed myself, as I could no longer do so sitting at the table.
That night Paul and I retired to our tatami-matted bedroom and reclined together. Paul caressed my belly fondly.
"Hey, little fella,” he asked, "What do you want to do?”
"I want you to give me a special blow job,” I said.
"What do you mean by that? he asked.
I explained, "You remember that special tube that I said would be implanted in my penis? I want you to use it for the first time. Put my cock in your mouth. Only don’t suck, blow.”
Paul heaved his tremendous bulk downwards and placed his head between my thighs. I felt his lips engulf my thick erect cock. I felt his hand grab it and start massaging it vigorously, while his tongue licked around my bulging glans. Then I felt his warm soft breath going up my penis and into my capacious belly. As my gut swelled to an even greater volume, I groaned and writhed in delight. I was blimping up so huge I thought I would burst. Paul blew and blew with all of his might. As my prodigious paunch swell out to an even more incredible size, I got more and more worked up. Just as I thought I was going to explode, I climaxed. Finally, I ejaculated buckets of cum down Paul’s deep, insatiable throat. As I came, so did he, aroused only by my monstrously swelling, heaving bulk. I fell asleep with Paul’s arm draped over my belly.
In the morning, I got Paul to manipulate the valve to deflate my gut back to its normal 180”.
Paul. Michael and I planned to have a celebration over the next few days to mark my transformation into a mega blimp. I had one little surprise to share with them. It was a sort of prank that I wanted to pull on our friends at the party that we were planning. I swore Paul and Michael to secrecy. I won’t tell you about it just yet, as it will spoil the story.
The party was attended by our usual Sumo wrestling friends. The evening was, of course, devoted to serious gluttony and excessive consumption of beer. Towards the end of the evening my gut suddenly start to swell up, gaining a good three feet or so in circumference and thrusting forwards another foot. Our friends all looked on in horror.
"Ooh, I’ve got a touch of gas,” I said casually.
"He’s going to blow!” someone cried and everyone dived for cover fearing that I would explode. After a minute or so my gut ceased to expand.
"It’s all right, you can come out now,” said Paul.
Paul, Michael and I we laughing hysterically, as our guests emerged from there hiding places. I explained that I had a small cylinder of compressed air hidden in the pocket of my pants. It was connected via a tube to a valve in my shirt pocket and then to one of the valves in my crotch. I had surreptitiously turned on the valve in my shirt pocket to inflate my belly. The shirt I was wearing was one of two extra large ones I had had made just for this prank. We watched as our fat friends’ paunches dissolved into quivers of jollity. Everyone thought it hilariously funny. We called this prank my party trick and swore all present to secrecy, so that we could try it out several more times on unsuspecting guests.
One evening,, Paul and I were going out to dinner in one of our favourite restaurants in town. I was getting quite audacious about showing off my new bigger self and decided to try out my party trick in the restaurant to see what the reaction of the general public would be. This is what led to disaster.
I got dressed for dinner and rigged up my equipment ready for my party trick. Paul and I drove into town. There was little reaction as we entered the restaurant, as we were familiar to the staff and regular customers. People were even used to seeing me eat from my special feeding tray.
We had just finished eating, when I turned on the valve in my shirt pocket. My gut swelled up and pushed me back a foot from the table.
"I think I’ve got a touch of gas,” I said.
People looked around in shock and horror. I tried to turn off the valve but it was stuck. I stood up and the buttons burst off my shirt. Paul realised what was the matter and rushed to my assistance but he slipped and fell, knocking himself unconscious. I struggled with the valve in my shirt pocket but it would not move. I felt the seat of my pants split with a loud ripping noise. The zipper on my pants gave way next. Finally, my belt exploded apart and my pants fell to the floor. As I continued to struggle with the valve, my rapidly swelling belly knocked over the table and chairs in front of me. People were panicking and fleeing from the restaurant. I thought that I was going to explode and die just like Mr. Creosote. Just as I thought that I was about to burst, the compressed air cylinder ran out.
The room was now completely empty apart from me and Paul, who came to and sat up rubbing his sore head.
"Whoa, what happened?” he asked. Then he looked up at me. "Fuck me! You’re humongous. What happened to you?”
"I had a little accident,” I said, trying to stay calm.
"Looks like the biggest fucking accident I’ve ever seen,” retorted Paul.
"Don’t panic,” I said. "Unhook me before anyone comes back in here.”
Paul removed the tube from the valve between my legs and only just in time. The restaurant owner stormed in from the kitchen.
"What have you done?” he raved. "You’re ruining my business!”
Paul, ever resourceful, responded, "What have we done? What have you done? What do you put in the food around here? Look what you’ve done to this guy. You’d better call the fire brigade. We’re going to have to remove the plate-glass window and take him out through there. We’ve a good mind to sue you.”
The owner started to tremble and sweat. He ran off back into the kitchen to call the fire brigade. After a couple of minutes a couple of fire engines pulled up outside and half a dozen firemen entered the premises.
"How can we help?” asked one of them.
Paul explained, "We need you to remove the plate-glass window, so that we can get this guy out of here.” He pointed at me.
"Look at the size of the belly on that guy,” muttered one of the fire officers. They all started to snigger. One of the officers walked over to me and asked, "What happened to you, then?”
"I don’t know,” I replied. "It must have been something they put in the food.”
The officer walked back to the others and organised them for the task ahead. It didn’t take them long to remove the window. Then four of them pick me up by the arms and legs, carried me outside and loaded me into the back of our van. They made no comment about my weight and I realised that they had no inkling that I was incredibly light for my size.
When we arrived home, Paul tried to adjust the valve between my legs to let out the excess gas but it, too, was stuck. We kept trying for hours but it was just impossible. Eventually we went to bed. We lay side by side and I burst into tears.
"Hey, what’s the matter, little fella?” asked Paul.
"I never wanted to be this fat,” I gasped between my sobs.
" I thought that you wanted to blow up as big as possible,” he said. "No limit is what you said. And I will love you no matter how fat you get. I’ve never seen you looking so good.”
He caressed my spherical paunch. Then he move across the tatami mat to kiss me lips. We had to lie almost at right angles to each other to do this because of our colossal bellies.
"What am I going to wear?” I asked.
"Don’t worry,” he reassured me. "We’ll sort that out tomorrow.”
We were soon both fast asleep. It had been an exhausting evening.
The next morning, Paul brought me breakfast in the bedroom and fed me by hand. Then he went into the lounge and made a telephone call. He returned.
"That was Mr. Maani,” he told me. "He’ll be round in half an hour or so to measure you up for a special fitting.”
A broad grin spread across my lips.
"What’s that wicked smile for,” asked Paul.
" You know,” I began hesitantly, "if I’m going to have to get a whole new wardrobe, I’d rather be as big as possible, before I buy it.”
"What are you saying?” asked Paul.
"I want you to give me a special blow job, now,” I said, "before Mr. Maani gets here.”
Paul knelt and placed his head between my thighs. I felt his soft, round shoulders against my taut lower belly. His voluptuous lips and tongue wrapped around my cock. He blew very gently, as he thought that I could not take much more.
"Harder!” I cried.
Paul blew harder but he was still trying to be very gentle. I felt full of apprehension. What if I burst before Mr. Maani arrived? What if Mr. Maani interrupted this final stage of my inflation too soon? Half an hour passed and Mr. Maani didn’t arrive. An hour passed and then two hours. Paul kept blowing softly. I watched my belly as it rose ever further towards the ceiling. As the pressure inside me grew, I became more and more aroused. I became breathless as my abdominal implant pressed harder and harder against my diaphragm. My whole body quaked violently and I glistened with sweat. My belly bounced up and down against Paul’s broad shoulders. I writhed in ecstasy. I tried to push my belly upwards and outwards. I just wanted it to get bigger and bigger. My flood of juices erupted into Paul’s mouth, so copiously that he choked and splutter most of it out against my lower belly. We lay still for several minutes and then Paul towelled down the mess.
The doorbell rang. Paul helped me to my feet and went to answer it. I heard him invite Mr. Maani inside. I waddled out of the bedroom.
"Goodness gracious me!” exclaimed Mr. Maani in his strong Indian accent, "He’s as big as an elephant.” He collapsed onto the floor.
Paul lifted up Mr, Maani’s head, undid his collar button and started to fan him with a magazine. Mr. Maani revived and Paul poured a glass of brandy, which he handed to him. Mr. Maani was obviously very shaken by the sight of me.
"It’s all right,” Paul assured Mr. Maani. "It’s only Dave. He’s just got a bit bigger. That’s all. He’s been getting bigger ever since you’ve known him.”
Mr. Maani struggled to his feet and took out his tape measure, which was far too small to span my entire girth. He fumbled around my waist for several minutes and made a couple of marks with a pen about my circumference to help him with his measurement. Finally, he announced, "Three hundred and twenty-five inches.”
I was delirious with joy. That was over two and a half times the previous world-record girth. I did the figures inside my head. I was now over eight feet wide. I thought that it was a good job that we had had all of the doors in the apartment widened.
Paul, Michael and I are still gaining and Paul still occasionally gives me a special blow job. The only trouble is that these days Paul is very reluctant to take me out to a restaurant for dinner.
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