Chapter 7 - siestas of strawberries & cream part 3

Ryan shook his head in disbelief as he watched the group of slender ball girls lift three hundred and fifty-odd pounds of man to his feet. Ryan wasn't sure how much Zach weighed. Suffice to say it was a lot. Seriously fat before the match, the man was now positively spherical: as round as he was tall, with a stomach so huge that one poor girl had to kneel beneath it and lift it on her back (exhibiting a gamut of grimaces in the process) as the others hauled the puffing blond finalist to his feet.

Not just puffing, either. Much to Ryan's interest, it was evident that Zach's feeding frenzy at the conclusion to the fourth set had left him somewhat dazed. His usually sharp blue eyes had taken on a vacant glassiness, and he was staring up, down and around stupidly as if struggling to work out where he was.

Ryan's heart quickened with hope; had Zach and Beth overplayed their hand?

"Looks like that ice cream overdose has given Zach an extreme form of brainfreeze!" said Stephie the commentator. "Will he have time to recover for the fifth se- oh my!"

Her shock was prompted by a sudden change in the demeanour of her subject. From staring around dumbly, Zach, now back on his feet, had suddenly shaken off the attentions of the cake girls and fixed his gaze straight ahead of him. Licking his lips, he began to advance towards...

Ryan's eyes widened in fear. Hurridly he began to rise from his seat...only to find that his butt was wedged tight between the chairarms!

"Uh oh. Folks," the voice of John, the male commentator, boomed out dramatically. "I think in his sugar craze Zach has mistaken his opponent for some sort of sugary confection!"

"Well he is covered in icing and... is that lemon mirangue pie?" laughed his female counterpart. "He does look kinda tasty!"

By this point the crowd, along with Beth and Katie were roaring and convulsing with laughter and applause.

Ryan was struggling to see the funny side - and struggling to get free of his damn chair. Wriggling his butt uselessly he looked up and pointed a finger at the huge blond blob that was now bearing down on him.

"No way man!" he growled, squirming desperately. "You've had enough!"

Finally free of the chair, he turned to run, wincing as his overfed belly swung round with him.

"Run honey!" guffawed Katie, and he felt her racket slap against his ass as he passed her.

It was a pretty futile command. Ryan felt like he was wading through glue, his weighty stomach sloshing horribly with all the sugary treats Katie had served into it. Only the certain knowledge that Zach was was even fuller and way too fat to give any sort of chase prevented him from yelling out in terror.

Sure enough, afer a few moments, Ryan heard the pounding feet behind him stop, replaced with a deep, gutteral rasping. He turned - too quickly and stumbled onto his back, and was startled when he looked up to see Zach only a few inches above him, groaning woozily, his hands rubbing the front of his massive belly.

It was clear the brief run had done no favours for the big man's heavily burdened digestive system.

"Beth!" he groaned with a burp.

"Oh no. I think all that exertion may have given Zach a spot of indigestion!" said the female commentator's voice.

"A man should never move like that between sets. Never," added her male counterpart solemnly.

"Deep breaths babe!" Beth's call had a note of panic. "In through the nose, out through the mouth," she went on, demonstrating the correct technique.

But it was too late. With one huge, final belch Zach's eyes glazed over and Ryan's bulged in terror. "No, no, no!" he wailed, trying desperately to scramble back as his friend-stroke-opponent's belly rose up gurgling and creaking before him, blotting out the sun and then beginning to descend.

"You cannot be serious!" Ryan and the male commentator yelled in unison.

*******

Jolting upright, Ryan blinked several times, panting in hot terror. He looked down at bedsheets. They were saturated with sweat.

"Uggggh why did Katie use so much cheese?" he grumbled, lifting one hand to his brow and dropping the other to massage his belly.

He could hear the faint rhythmic echo of a thwack, thwack, thwack. For a moment, still groggy, he thought he hadn't been dreaming - his belly certainly felt as if he'd eaten four trollies worth of desserts.

Then he rememberd.

Throwing off the damp covers, the sleepy stockbroker swung his legs over the side of the bed and heaved himself up with a grunt. Cradling his belly with one hand he plodded over to the bedroom window and pushed aside the blinds, grimacing at the bright sunlight.

Below him, Katie and Rhonda were prancing about his new tennis court in their stylish exercise gear, giggling as they patted a ball back and forth. For a few moments Ryan gazed admiringly at his wife's long legs in her tiny shorts - the same ones as in his nightmare - and at the lycra-clad derriere of Rhonda, and less admiringly at their girly shots.

He would've stayed there watching, had not a gurgle rumbled low and urgently aross his stomach.

Ryan grimaced. "Gotta tell Katie to lay of the cheese in those nachos," he muttered, turning for the bathroom.

*******

[Author note: Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed the dream sequence. No idea where it came from really! Feedback would be much appreciated.

[More to come soon, as well as more on my other stories.]