by Wilson Barbers
They stopped doing "Sumo Night" at Springer's Sports Bar. And though few of the patrons of that redoubtable establishment know the reason why, they've given up trying to persuade Phil Springer to reinstate the practice. The portly bar owner, once the bar's loudest supporter of foam-padded sumo, remains adamant in his refusal to bring back the mock sport. Though each of the regulars has his own theory why (chief among them being his new wife Sally's refusal to have anything to do with it anymore), the truth is known only to a favored few: Phil and his chief bartender, Jerry, plus the mysterious salesman who started it all.
He showed up one Sumo Night. A gangly guy in a sports coat that looked straight off the Goodwill rack, jeans and a Hawaiian shirt, he blended into the dim bar so effortlessly that Phil barely noticed him. It was only near the end of the evening, when the bulk of the crowd had already drifted out into the parking lot, that he struck up a conversation with Phil Springer.
"Good crowd tonight," he said amiably, as Phil came up to refill his draft.
"Looks like they go for sumo in a big way in this town."
"Sure do," the bar owner agreed, placing a fresh napkin on the bar before the stranger. "We're the only place with enough room to do it - and it's a whole lot cleaner than mud wrestling!"
"I believe that," the thin man said, tipping his freshened beer and taking a healthy swallow. "Never was a big fan of that mud wrestling shit, but I can get into women sumos. Put two good lookin' gals in phony sumo suits, get 'em on-stage to belly bump each other: there's something - I dunno - kind of sexy about it. I know I'm not the only guy who thinks this; whole thing wouldn't have grown as popular so quick if I was."
"Probably not," Phil answered slowly just as his girlfriend Sally came from behind and gave him a quick peck.
"How'd I do tonight?" she asked, reaching for a bowl of Beer-Nuts and straightening her Springer's tee shirt. Her top stuck to her ripe frame revealingly; her jeans hung low enough to reveal her slightly bulging midriff. As she happily munched on nuts, the stranger struck the counter top and pointed.
"You're Sumo Sal!" he said happily. "You were pretty good out there!"
"Beats cleaning mud out of yer snatch," Sally said cheerfully, grabbing a second handful of nuts. "Though you can still get pretty sweaty inside all that padding!"
"Must be the wrong kinda padding," the stranger offered. "A good sumo suit should feel as natural as your own body."
"I wish!" Sally snickered. She put her arm around Phil, who was giving the stranger a funny look.
"This sounds like the start of a pitch to me," the bar owner said, patting her girlfriend on her well-padded end and offering her a Zima. The stranger finished off the rest of his beer, pulled a card out of his shirt pocket and dropped it on the bar like a kid flipping baseball cards. He smiled broadly.
"No puttin' anything past you!" he said agreeably as the duo read his business card. It read:
Ample Stuffing, Ltd.
"You selling sumo outfits" Phil asked.
"Not just any sumo suits," Lukra answered, patting Sally's hand as she reached for her third helping of nuts. "Suits as real as life itself! Suits that show every other sumo outfit for the sham that they are!"
"Folks like the suits we got," Phil said, as he pulled Sally back from the counter. She shrugged and sauntered off to grab a bag of chips, swaying her generous hips teasingly.
"They haven't seen Ample Stuffing," the salesman said. "Put on one Sumo Night with my product, and you'll never be satisfied with any of those other suits."
"That may be," Phil said, "but I'd be a fool to spend big bucks on two suits just on your say so."
"No argument there," Lukra agree. "But what if I gave you two for trial use? No strings attached. See if you're not totally satisfied."
"Trial use?"
"I can bring in two body suits tomorrow that'd fit your Sal and whoever you pick for her opponent like they were real sumoettes!" Lukra stated. "I guarantee you'll be amazed by the results. If you're not, I'll take my suits and go."
"Yeah, sure," Phil said doubtfully, eyeing his girlfriend, seated on a stool polishing off her chips. Couldn't hurt to see her modeling another sumo suit, he decided Though he wouldn't admit it out loud, Phil too found the sight of his plump girlfriend in a fat suit plenty sexy.
They made a date for the next Sumo Night to see Lukra's wares.
He showed up an hour before opening. Both Sally and Ricki, her regular opponent and Springer's only full-time cocktail waitress, were waiting for the salesman and feeling rather giggly. Dressed in form-fitting spandex, they stood by the Ladies' Room when Lukra entered pushing a carton that came up to his eyes. Phil and Jerry were working on the Happy Hour buffet tables. The room was rife with the scent of barbecue and cocktail sauce.
"Ladies," the salesman said theatrically, "you ready to be transformed?" He winked at the two women, eyed the tall and lanky Ricki.
"Sure," Sally chuckled. She nudged Ricki, and the two of them pulled the box into the restroom. Lukra followed and stood in the doorway. "Excuse me," Sally chastised. "We're dressing here."
"Sure thing," Lukra apologized. "But once you're dressed, I need to add a few finishing touches. One suggestion before you try on the body suits: don't bother with anything underneath; wear the suits by themselves."
"No underwear?"
"No underwear," Lukra repeated. "Once you see how great it feels, you'll thank me!" With that, he backed out of the restroom.
He joined Phil and the bartender by the buffet. "Nice spread," he observed, spearing a meatball. "Sure you've got enough for tonight?"
In their informal dressing room, Sally and Ricki popped open the carton and pulled out two full body suits in lifelike flesh tones, open at front torso. Yanking off both her spandex and her panties, Sally stepped into the legs of her suit. "How do you fasten this?" she asked, as she snuggled into both arms. There were, she saw, no visible fasteners at the opening.
"Maybe there's some instructions in the box," Ricki offered, and she turned the carton on its side. A smaller box fell at her feet, and she stooped down to pick it up. "What's this?"
"Open it and lemme see," Sally ordered. "I sure can't bend over to get it!"
"You figured out how to close the suit!" Ricki smiled, turning toward her friend. Sally stood before her with Lukra's sumo suit wrapped around her. It was amazingly realistic looking; wearing it, Sally had become transformed into a tremendous fat woman. Her voluminous belly hung to her knees; her feet spread to support it. Both breasts bulged atop her pre-eminent paunch, quivering like mercury. Her arms and legs were shapely but at least twice their old size.
It was then Ricki noticed something unique about the sumo suit. Not only was it realistic (she still couldn't see where it was fastened), it was detailed in its nakedness, down to the veins and stretch marks on Sally's gelatinous mams. "You're nude!" Ricki gasped. "You can't go out like this, even if it is a costume!"
"What's in the box?" Sally asked. "Maybe it's something that'll cover my imitation privates."
It was: a pair of super-sized flesh colored bikini tops, the traditional rope sashes to cover their lower regions as well as the mawashin used to band around their bellies. "Nice lookin' tsuna," Ricki noted, feeling the soft sash as she roped it under her friend's draping paunch. "How's the costume feel?"
"That Lukra guy wasn't kidding when he said it'd feel natural," Sally replied.
"There's no wig, though."
"We can use our old ones," Ricki said, stepping into the second body suit. Soon as she got her arms fully into the costume, the torso opening disappeared, and she was within the fleshy layering. It took a bit longer for Sally to help her get her clothing on; they kept bumping into each other.
"Yer body looks a little lighter than mine," Sally said, stepping back to appraise the finished results. Indeed, Ricki looked like an entirely different fat women: wider in the hips and legs, less pronounced in the breast and belly department. Clearly, these were not mass produced costumes.
"You decent?" Lukra asked from outside the door. "If so, I've got some finishing touches for you."
"C'mon in," Sally shouted, "but don't let the boys in."
"This'll only take a minute," the salesman told them as he entered, pulling a roll of flesh colored tape out of a shopping bag. "Wanna protect the wrists and ankles," he explained, and he proceeded to wrap them, covering both flesh and body suit. "Also got some neck braces," he continued, "and they're really nice ones, too - look just like fattened chins and necks."
"Got any wigs?" Sally asked, as the salesman hovered around her neckline.
Lukra shook his head. "Hair's not that important," he said. "It's the body that fans wanna see!"
"You've got a point," Sally considered, examining herself in the mirror. Lukra's neck bracing was phenomenal: affixed to both her neck and the underside of her jaw, it looked like her chin had found two extra friends. Her neck seemed to have blended in-between her shoulders.
Sally patted her paunch and felt it quiver; it was almost like patting her own flesh. Before she could consider this further, the scents of Happy Hour buffet hit her nostrils. "Let's show the boys," she shouted, and she took her first waddling step into the bar. The look of astonishment on Phil's face was priceless.
"What ya think?" she said, moving into the light. She bumped a table with her hip and thought that'll bruise. As she made her way to the buffet, Sally noted the way her boyfriend hung on her every move. He really likes me like this, she realized, but before she could follow that thought, she hit the first buffet table, and a sudden wave of hunger struck her. "Mind if I get a bite to eat?" she said with a laugh. "I've got a whale of an appetite!"
Phil dashed up to her, grabbed a plate and started filling it. Sally took a table by the buffet, settled her massive form on a chair, and let him serve her. She hadn't seen him look this interested in months. It felt like she was royalty.
"You know in Japan," Lukra said, as he grabbed a spot opposite Sally, "they treat sumos like nobility." It's almost like he's reading my mind, Sally thought, as she bit into a forkful of Swedish meatballs. She didn't remember them tasting this good before. She quickly polished off the serving: in less time then it'd taken to fill her plate, she cleaned it. "I'll get you another," Lukra said, but as he stood, Phil intervened and said that he would get the food for his girlfriend.
"You both can get me something," Sally offered. "I'm starving!"
"You're not the only one," Ricki said from her side of the buffet, and her boyfriend rushed from behind the bar to her service. For the next hour all three men worked to fill both women's plates, and neither Phil nor Jerry stopped to think how unusual this was.
By the time the first customer arrived, the duo had done a major job on the serving trays. They both sat back, fat faces flushed from the exertion of nonstop gormandizing, sheens of sweat appearing on their expansive flesh, feeling bloated but satisfied. Their flesh bulged along the edges of their belly bands assertively.
"Better get 'em out of sight," Lukra whispered to Phil. "Don't want the customers to see the stars of the show too early!"
Phil nodded and led Sally and Ricki to the back storage room. Soon as he left, they tore open a case of potato chips and grabbed two bags apiece. By the time Lukra made his way to the storeroom, they both were considering hitting the box a third time.
"Well," he announced, "you ready to get into costume?"
"What?" Sally asked, licking salt off her podgy fingertips. There was something off about Lukra's question, but she couldn't put her finger on it.
"Your super sumo body suits," Lukra told them. "Got 'em outside in the van."
He led them out the delivery door to the parking lot and a gray van; opening the back, he pulled down a ramp and gestured both women into the back. "You've never seen sumo as big as this!" he promised, and he followed them into the van to work his magic on them.
Neither Phil nor Jerry noticed the girls' absence until it was time for the big event. The place was busier than usual all evening; it was almost as if every regular and occasional patron had gotten the word that something special was going to happen this Sumo Night. First matches were the usual fare: women from the audience donning the traditional foam outfits and doing their own amateur sumo on the mat-covered dance floor. The big event, Sumo Sal and Ricki, was the finale. When time came, Lukra had to step behind the bar to get Phil's attention.
"About time, isn't it?" he shouted.
"Yeah!" Phil realized. "Got to wonder if this was such a good idea. Could've used both Sally and Ricki out here. Where are they, anyhow?"
"The gals're outside," the salesman answered. "Been gettin' ready. Why don't you announce 'em?" With that, he disappeared into the crowd.
Because he was surrounded by patrons, it took some time for Phil to actually see his transformed girlfriend. But he'd never forget the moment she came within eyesight - a glowing vision in the dim bar light.
Sally was more than thrice the size she'd been when he'd last seen her, an enormous, barely mobile mountain of woman. Her banded belly swelled ahead of her and hung all the way to the floor - the only way she could walk was by hefting it with both splayed hands. With every step she took, it'd slip from her grasp and force her to re-lift. Atop her gargantuan paunch, her breasts shimmied. They were big as two children's beanbag chairs, so huge they forced Sally's head into looking skywards. Her thighs pushed further back than her rear and with her legs spread to their maximum capacity, they sagged within inches of the floor. Her lower legs drooped on the side in triple bulges.
She looked too massive to walk, though that would've spoiled the sumo. Some costume! Phil thought. It's a wonder that she even got through the door! Even her feet and hands looked fat. Sally's face, which regularly was obscured by her bobbling mams, was round and generously chinned. She had her own hair done up sumo style, a thinly stretched bikini top scantily covering her nipples and areolas. There was hardly any need for anything lower, as her monstrous paunch shielded her modesty, but Lukra had kept the costume's integrity intact. Though you couldn't see the front of her rope sash behind her belly hang, it rose between the upper most thigh folds and covered the crease between her voluminous cheeks.
Phil barely heard the crowd, so transfixed was he by the sight of her. He'd always been drawn to Sally as a chubby girl, had even carried thoughts of her in her old sumo suit with him at times, but this was beyond his wildest imaginings. She looked incredible. He wondered if she'd let him make love to her in Lukra's costume.
Behind her, Ricki was also slowly making her way to the dance floor. She was just as round as Sally but in an entirely different way: most of her weight appeared on her legs, upper arms and backside. The formerly slim brunette was almost as wide as she was tall. Her hips and lower legs swelled ahead of her paunch; each cheek was twice the size of her still substantial belly. Her feet were totally covered by rings of fat flowing over her ankles.
The crowd was going ballistic, sending out a mixed chorus of catcalls, laughs and genuine expressions of lust. Sally smiled serenely as she passed the buffet, stopping to grab a couple of drumsticks and quickly strip them.
Patting her side, she hoisted her front once more and passed through the inner rim of sumo fans. It took several minutes for Ricki, whose legs were even less flexible than Sally's, to arrive behind her. When she attempted her own snatch and grab at the buffet, her hips nearly kept her fingers out of reach.
"Like what ya see, big boy?" Sally whispered to Phil, her paunch settling on the floor before her legs.
"Great costume," Phil enthused. "I've never seen a woman so huge!"
"'Costume'?" the fat woman said, lifting her pursy hands to her hairdo. "I was asking what you thought about my hair!" With that, her opponent had managed to make her way onto the mats. "Men!" Sally snorted, and she turned her concentration to the match at hand. "This'll be quick," she promised the crowd. Lifting her right leg and then her left behind her wall of belly flesh, she tromped on the floor imposingly, sending waves through her avoirdupois. Sally took a deep breath, grunted loudly and pulled herself off the floor; with a second grunt, she held on tight and waddled toward Ricki.
Ricki shouted back then took her first laborious step on the mat. As the two combatants moved ponderously toward collision, the entire bar held its breath. Sally's paunch arrived first, and it was almost as if it flowed against Ricki, pushing up over her hips and thighs, mashing into her breasts and belly. Sally once again let her forefront flatten on the floor, braced herself with her legs, and pressed against Ricki.
The move gave her both leverage and an advantage. Her opponent fell backwards with a loud thump!, backside flattening to spread against the mat. Sally followed, her magnificent belly answering the call of gravity. She tumbled forward, and her prominent forefront spilled over Ricki, pressing between her legs, filling in her slightly lesser belly area. Her bikini top and belly band snapped loose, as did Ricki's.
For an instant she remained atop her fallen opponent, and the sight of this mound of heaving quivering womanhood sent erotic jolts through both Phil and Jerry. Then Sally started to roll off her opponent in slow motion, left arm and breasts pointing ceiling-wards. The whole side of the room moved back. The mammoth sumoette dropped onto the mat and then fell on her back. The contest was finished.
The crowd pushed in to get a closer look at both women as they floundered helplessly on their backs. Looks like they're really stranded by their weight, Phil thought, though it had to be an illusion fostered by Lukra's amazing costumes. He stepped over to help Sally to her feet, grabbed a fat and nearly yanked his arm off at the shoulder, trying to lift her. Jesus, she must weigh a ton! he thought, and as she smiled up at him sexily, Phil tried in vain to find the lines of her body suit. Wasn't there supposed to be some tape on her wrist? All he could see was a rim of fat, encircling where the wrist should be. This was no costume, but real woman flesh, overwhelming and enormous. What was going on here?
It took more than ten men apiece to lift Sally and Ricki to their feet. By then, Lukra had appeared on the edge of the dance floor with two reinforced benches; the women lowered themselves onto them gratefully, and though both benches were over five feet long, Sally and Ricki covered them completely. The salesman handed them each a flowered robe large enough to cover a sports car, and the two smiled and put them on.
"That takes a lot outta you," Sally panted, after raising her cumbrous arms to let the robe drop on her. Somewhere beneath her layers and layers of avoirdupois, her stomach was crying to be filled. The cry grew louder until it was all that Sally could hear. "I could do with a refueling."
"Me, too!" Ricki gasped.
“You hear that, folks?" Lukra shouted to the crowd. "Our two super ladies are hungry! Don't you think they deserve some reward for their efforts?"
"Hell, yes!" a male voice shouted from within the crowd, and with that, one of the pool table regulars stumbled onto the dance floor, carrying a plate load of shrimp and meatballs. He passed the plate to Sally, reaching over her, the front of his jeans pressing into her paunch. Phil felt a flush of jealousy so strong that he almost went over and slugged the guy. But before he could, two more regulars came up with their own offerings. Sally made quick work of all three plates, then asked for a beer. She drank straight from the pitcher and finished it in three long steady chugs. The crowd cheered.
The next two hours were spent feeding both Sally and Ricki. The entire bar got into it, and when the buffet and storeroom were depleted, several carloads of customers did a quick dash to a nearby Hardee's to bring back more. They'd never seen anybody eat and drink as much as these two, and it made an even more exciting spectacle than the sumo match.
"Sally's really gotten into her costume," one regular observed to Phil as they neared closing time, and the bar owner nodded in dazed agreement. Sally had always possessed a healthy appetite - but nothing compared to this. She seemed unfillable, and the sight of her nonstop gobbling was sexier than anything.
It was Lukra who finally called a halt to the evening. Standing on a chair between the two humongous gormandizers, he pointed to the Coors clock and shouted, "Last call!" Most nights this pronouncement would have brought a run on the bar, but this night the crowd just crammed in closer to Sally and Ricki with their offerings. The two jumbo sumoettes sped up to meet the supply, chewing at preternatural speed. A half hour later, the bar was finally emptied of customers.
Sally was seated on her bench with her robe open, dabbing her cleavage with a wet warm towel. It took some effort for her to keep her arm up: the swell of her upper arms sagged over both her elbows, and her breasts made quite a formidable pair of obstacles themselves. Her belly rested on the floor between her legs, a deep divide extending from her navel like a new form of cleavage. Her skin was flushed on her face and shoulders, like she always got when she was extremely aroused. With the lights turned up, Phil could see the detail on her skin: her pores, her hairs, the mole on her dangling chins that had once been on her neck.
"This is no mere costume, is it?" the bar owner asked the salesman, and Lukra smiled and pulled out a second card.
"Already said there was no puttin' anything past you!" he said cheerily, patting Sally on a blubbery shoulder. "How you doin', Sally?" he asked.
"Fine," she panted, lifting her right arm to wave it as near to her face as she could angle it. "Always did like a good meal!" she concluded, belching happily. She acts like she's always been this huge, Phil thought, and this gluttonous! He supposed it was one more part of Sally's metamorphosis, one more facet of Lukra's new realism: people didn't get this sizable overnight, after all, but from years of living fat.
"Don't I know it," Lukra laughed as he handed the card to Phil; it had the same legend as before but with the following additions:
Bulk Rates
"I also have a line of home furnishings and clothing that'll suit both young ladies," Lukra added, "all at a more than reasonable price."
"How reasonable?" Jerry put in.
"It's on a sliding scale," Lukra answered vaguely, "but maybe you should ask your boss for a raise." He headed for the door. "You wanna reach me, my number's on the back of the card. If I'm not home, my wife'll answer it; she's always there." He smiled and let the significance of this last sink in, then ducked out of sight.
"Phil, darlin'," Sally panted from her bench. "Can we go home now?" As she reached up to undo her hair, her body wavered all around her. She was more beautiful than he'd ever seen her; Phil wanted to take her home and fall all over her unbelievable body.
"Sure," he replied.
He had to remove the center row in the mini-van first. It took some time to get her in the vehicle. Sally was moving slower and more laboriously, more in line with her enormous size than she'd been before her fantastic binge. She wouldn't be doing any sumo in the future, but Phil didn't think she'd mind. Her belly hung below the hem of her robe, the fabric of which crept into each fold of her body. She had to back into the mini-van to board it, sitting on the floor and then lying back, her forefront flowing up off the ground and into the vehicle.
It took even longer to get her into the apartment, and once she was inside, Phil doubted she'd be leaving very often. (Just like, he thought, Lukra's own wife.) He was going to have to do some remodeling to accommodate their new life together, but he was eager to begin. Pulling off the top mattress from their king-size bed, he laid it on the living room floor, covered it and watched Sally settle herself down onto it. Lying on her back, she took up most of the mattress; her robe had fallen open to both sides, revealing her gleaming, mounding torso. Each breath she took, it trembled sexily.
"I could stay down here forever," Sally cooed, resting her arms against the floor. "Every part of me feels exhausted, just from holding my fat body up. Too bad: all that food made me really hot!"
"Rest," Phil told her, "and in the morning, I wanna get to know my champion a little bit better!"
"Sounds good," she yawned, and she fell asleep feeling comfortably stuffed. It was the way she would end the rest of her days.
Phil contacted Lukra late the following morning, and the salesman was scoping out Phil's two-bedroom apartment that very afternoon. First purchase was a super-sized futon that allowed Sally to rest in a semi-seated position. Second was a liquid food dispenser that allowed her to eat as much as she wanted when Phil was out: Sally's appetite had grown with her body, and it looked like her body has going to try and catch up.
As the months passed, she swelled to even vaster size, rarely leaving her futon (or even needing to), living like pampered royalty. Ample Stuffing made its deliveries daily, and it was a highlight of her day: a battery of delivery persons entering the apartment with their own key, rolling in enough food to feed a school of sumos.
Jerry became a partner in the bar, and Ricki quit her waitressing. Almost all the bar profits went to feeding their newly wedded wives, but neither man minded this at all. Most days, just the thought of their brides back home eating themselves into even greater size had them eager to get through the workday.
As for Sumo Night, Phil and Jenny discontinued it. The whole mock event lost whatever allures it had for them; their wives' reality overpowered it. And Lukra showed no inclination to bring his body suits out for any of the patrons.
Occasionally, though this thought would strike Phil: Lukra had accomplished his mysterious fattening in stages, with two layers of body suit. Did it stop there or could Lukra go further? What would Sally look like after a third treatment from Lukra, especially after all the weight gain she'd been accomplishing with straight gluttony?
It's a question that Phil Springer hasn't yet asked the salesman.
Corrected version - Copyright (c) 1998 - Oakhaus Designs
