BOUNCY CASTLES

Dickmann was down on his luck. 

His bouncy castle business wasn't doing very well at all and his wife was on his back. 

He  just wanted a quiet life. So what if the kids were bored with his castle. He could while away the hours reading trashy horror in his favourite deckchair.

"You look like a beached whale Dickmann! You'll be dead if you move any less! You'll be fatter than your bouncy castle one day soon!"

All day long his wife chided him. Unfairly he thought too. Was it his fault the competition had bigger and better castles bristling with towers and separated floors? Was it his fault they pumped in special mixtures of air and oxygen and God knows what else?

He'd tried his best and it hadn't worked. Well the truth be known he couldn't be arsed with it any more. As long as he got fed and somewhere to sit and read next to his deflated heap he didn't mind if only one or two kids came by these days.

"You lazy arse Dickmann! I'm going out. Your cold gammon's in the fridge, where you should be. Yes, cold gammon, that's you!"

His wife shambled off chuckling at her carnivorous wit.

Dickmann watched her leave the castle yard. She was a looker his Missus. Slim. Curvy. Well-dressed. A thoroughly fashionable filly he'd loved to ride when they were first wed but those days were long gone now. 

He disgusted his svelte wife and she never came near him any more.

It was true, he had let himself go a bit and put on the pounds. At 25 stone he was a little rounder than he'd hoped. What the hell does she expect! He has to sit here all day grafting and tending to customers wanting a bounce whilst she was out in her high heels and seamed tights with her fancy friends.

That was his hard earned dosh she was wasting. Spending it like the stale air escaping from his business. In the good time's he'd saved his pennies. A layer of winter fat he'd called it. Back then he was Mister Dickmann with the tumbliest, rumbliest castles around. Children flocked to leap on their pillowy canvases and spring off those curvaceous walls. 

His wife, inflated with pride for her hard-working husband, would willingly lower her drawbridge to welcome his glistening knight. His muscular hands would kneed her ample breasts like dough. Yes, he'd filled his wife and castle with equal gusto and everybody loved him, Dickmann the bouncing King.

"Ere mister! You. Dickmann. You open or what?" A squeaky voice rasped from somewhere near the ground. "I wanna bounce!"

Dickmann left his reverie and leaned forward, peering over his corpulent gut. A small urchin of a boy was staring up at him clutching a penny.

He put his horror novel down and took the coin.

Its a bit deflated today but it'll have to do he thought. The penny clattered into an empty tin and the boy clambered up onto the half-sagged mound.

"Ere mister. This is shite this. Its going flat. I cant bounce on a flat castle. I want my penny back!" shouted the boy.

"Fuck off you little runt! No refunds today!"

Dickmann got out of his chair and booted the lad up the arse as he was climbing off the castle.

"You fat turd! My mum was right. You're a fat old shite!" cursed the boy.

He grabbed the tin with his penny in and scampered away, the thrill of victory in his eyes as he cast off one final crucial offence.

"You lard-arsed gammon! That's what yer missus calls you. Its no wonder yer missus is shaggin' the doctor next door!"

Dickmann threw his book at him, Schlubb!

"That fuckin' bitch I knew it! Dressed up like a tart every day. And that doctor. I'll show that stuck-up fuck-quack some proper gammon when I shove my hairy arm up his arsehole and pull out his fuckin' posh tongue!"

He sat in his deck chair cursing for another hour as the sun ran out of steam and dropped off. His face bright red, Dickmann rose shaking with rage and staggered across the road to the doctor's garden. 

Hiding in the darkness behind the doc's BMW, Dickmann stared up at the bedroom window through the trees. He could clearly see the outline of his buxom wife being ravished by the suave white-coated bastard. It was true. He glared with an unquantifiable anger as the two forms stood writhing like mating snakes swallowing each other whole.

"The fuckin cheatin bitch! Right under my nose! I'll Show her who's boss once and for all!"

Dickmann slid over the street like a slug and peered at the plaque on the garden gate-post.

Doctor Fissure. Lipidologist. Lipo-suction registered.

"Doctor fuckin fissure eh. I know which fissure I'm going to doctor of yours you bastard wife-stealer!"

Dickmann slithered away chortling at the thought of Fissure's final puffs before he sealed his fate good and proper! Ah yes, he would be king of his castle once again. He could feel it in the air.

When his wife came home, flushed and sweaty, Dickmann feigned sleep and she retired to her room. The next day he sat next to the sagging canvas early to watch her leave. She'd gone all-out today. Thick red lip-stick, bullet bra and a tight dress. A hussy. Her perfume wafted across the yard like a pheromone.

Dickmann waited patiently for dusk. He entered the doctor's house and tip-toed up the stairs. He had no real plan but felt sure one would pop out when the time came. And it did come. Or rather his Missus and the doctor did, just as Dickmann burst into the treatment room!

As the clandestine lovers squelched in ecstasy like two thudding snails on the clinic's couch, Dickmann gave his inflating fury full vent.

"You lousy bitch and you! You fuckin' cradlesnatcher! I'll fuckin' show you how to get fucked!" he bellowed.

With no idea what he was truly doing Dickmann suddenly grabbed two large needle-tipped siphons and with jilt-driven strength rammed them far up his wife's and doctor's behinds and slammed down the ON button to the max. 

It said SUCK and TURBO in large letters.

At once the room was filled with a dreadful gargling, a terrible slurping and a heinous suckling as the siphons went to work. The two lovers shook.

His wife looked on in horror as her perfect tits caved in as her meagre fat was piped out of her gorgeous body. She screamed and stared in terror as Doctor Fissure's blood-thickened cock, balls-deep inside her, retracted like a burst balloon slapping on his belly as his own fat decanted out. Plup! The Doctor shrieked in agony as he was fully vacuumed.

Dickmann was overjoyed. He could never have planned it any better. His glee knew no limits and he skipped like a bullfrog round the vanishing pair.

"Hee hee. Never mind getting fucked, you got well and truly sucked!" He croaked grinning at the flopping forms.

The two lovers quickly hollowed out as ,first their fat layers disappeared and then their entire innards, jerking their way down the engorged pipes into huge glass demi-johns on the tiled floor.

It was done. Dickmann gawped at the two sacks of skin draped over each other. He smiled. 

He then stared at the two massive glass bottles full to the brim with white and red fat and guts and smiled even more.

He chucked the skin and bones into the medical waste bin and humped the demi-johns into the lift and onto a cart in the foyer. In the cover of night he trundled his booty the short way to his yard whistling like a dwarf the whole way.

Dickmann sat in his chair and caressed the cool curves of the bottles and pondered what to do with their contents. The toilet was a waste. He scratched his wet chin and caught sight of the bouncy castle. He'd had his idea!

The next morning he opened up with a spring in his step and a brand new paint-splattered sign.

"Bouncy Castle. Super New filling. The Bounciest! You'll not be disappointed!"

His first customer for the 'new filling' was the little kid that had nicked his money tin. He brought it back with a few new shiny coins by way of apology and asked if he could try the new bounce. Dickmann, still triumphant, agreed and after seeing how much the little sod whelped and yelled with pleasure began to hatch a plan.

He knew he'd need more filling if he was to regain his crown in the town. With a whole handful of shiny pennies and the promise of much more he enlisted the boy to help him keep the liposuction clinic 'open for business'.

He figured the doc had loads more appointments booked with the pudgy townsfolk and that meant loads more precious blubber. All he had to do was call them upstairs and hold on whilst the kid shoved the pipe in.

It worked like a dream and the castle swelled with fresh wet fat. The queues and money swelled too and so, inevitably, did Dickmann's ego. 

He began to get cocky and mean with the kid, especially in front of his new customers, kicking him around, farting in his face and clipping him round the ear to make him graft even harder, whilst Dickmann found a nice spot on his comfy deckchair and stroked his heavy money tin.

Annoyingly, there was just one part of the castle that never filled up properly.

It was a built-in seat at the front, a chair which Dickmann had had specially sewn-on for himself when business had boomed back in the day. It was even meant to look like his face with a crown on top. The Bouncy Castle King! 

Alas, it always sagged and there was just never enough fresh fluid. Now things were on the rise he wanted to sit on his comfy bouncy throne again.

"Where's my wages you old bastard?" The boy suddenly insisted.

"You cheeky little shit! You eat my food and sleep in my castle and you want more money? Work harder you little ingrate. Get me more filling!" raved Dickmann.

That night the boy took him to intercept a new booking. 

"It'll be worth it" he said to Dickmann. "I've seen him. He's a right plump twat. He'll fill the throne no messin' mister!"

Dickmann slapped the boy hard for swearing in front of him and shuffled into the treatment room to look at the diary.

'There's no fuckin' bookin' tonight. Its blank!" he yelled.

"Oh yes there is!" roared the boy, "He's a right fat old bastard and he's stood right here!"

Dickmann swirled round from the desk to see the boy leaping at him with the needle-pointed suction hose. He tried to block him but it was too late, the boy was raging and slammed the sharp nozzle deep into Dickmann's open mouth, where it slid steadily down his throat and lodged itself in his enlarged stomach bag. Shhlump!

The boy laughed, stepped back and hovered his hand just a little over the turbo suction button to tease Dickmann, who's wide eyes were imploring the boy to stop. He attempted to say "no" through his full mouth. It came out as "go".

"Go you say!" cheered the boy "OK!" and flicked the switch with a huge grin.

The loud gurgling and chugging went on all night until Dickmann was no more. The boy had rigged up a special pipe direct to the yard too. Progress!

"I don't even need to carry the old twat's giblets!" he laughed. "Sorted!"

Dickmann's blubber and guts slipped and nudged easily down the pipe and before you could say curette, the sagging throne was plump and swollen with its crown nestling on top. It really did look like Dickmann!

The boy sat on the throne and laughed. Squeezing the arm he felt something lumpy.

"Hmm. Your eyeball! You fat fuck! Keeping an eye on me eh! Well watch this!"

The boy wriggled his arse deeper into Dickmann's 'face' and let out a huge wet fart, which ricocheted round the whole castle like trapped wind.

Dickmann's eyeball shot off twirling into the grue.

The boy sat smiling and waited for his first new customer. In one hand he held his money tin. In the other a big needle-tipped pipe!

The bouncy castle king was back!