Justin was too fat to slam dance and he was certainly too fat to crowd surf. This realisation hit him as he tumbled downwards towards the hard black sticky floor. A wave of pain rippled visibly across his fat red cheeks as he face-planted with a thud in the center of the pit. Steve, one of the guys who had parted the crowd when he had seen the wide outline approaching above his head, reached down with a friendly outstretched hand to help him up, as is the policy in the pit. Unfortunately an equally fat guy bounced into Steve’s back just as he was leaning forward to offer Justin his helpful hand. This sent Steve head over heels and down on top of Justin. Someone else then pushed the other fat guy sending him flying. He tripped over Steve’s trailing leg and landed heavily on top of him.

Steve felt the wind knock out of his lungs as he flailed helplessly between the two sweaty three hundred pound plus guys. With no breath left he was unable to cry out for help, not that anyone would have heard him over the perpetually thrashing four chords of the lead guitars. The guy on top of him squirmed and rocked his huge body in an attempt to right himself. In doing so he only succeeded in placing one of his fat sweaty naked moobs directly in Steve’s face. Eventually a selection of arms came down from above and three of four people managed to heave the huge guy back up to his feet. Steve then rolled to his left, dropping off Justin and onto the floor. He picked himself up and offered his hand out to Justin once more. Justin smiled kindly at him and took his hand. Steve pulled but Justin was just too heavy. The other fat guy then took Justin’s other hand and between them they lifted him back to his feet. Finally upright Justin hugged and thanked his friend before turning to Steve and shouting into his ear, “Sorry about that! Can I buy you a beer?” Steve mouthed a “yes” back at him while wondering why he was surprised that these two elephants knew each other.

With the band still only about midway through their set the bar was fairly empty. It was also fairly well lit allowing Steve to get a better look at the two fatties who had nearly crushed him. Justin looked to be about twenty two or twenty three years old, a little older than Steve. He had short black curly hair and a friendly smile on his fat bruised face. He wore a stretched out NOFX band tee with a picture of an ugly child licking a giant lollipop on it. This image was almost comically stretched over the bulge of his huge round belly, the bottom of which was clearly visible hanging out below the tee and over the top of Justin’s baggy cargo shorts. The topless friend, who turned out to be called Kyle, with all his flesh on show appeared to be even fatter, though whether this was factual is doubtful. His huge rounded out ball gut also hung inches over his belt. A belt that was hanging on for dear life in an attempt to keep his own baggy shorts up. The sweat pouring out of Kyle caused his belly to glisten under the lights of the bar and he wiped more sweat from his brow by removing his cap and rubbing it along his overheating forehead. This revealed a thick head of unkempt brown hair. “God, I’m hot,” Kyle said, the smell of BO escaping from his fat coated armpits.

Three beers were ordered and two of them quickly downed. Justin burped loudly as he polished off his drink in a single swig. He then proceeded to introduce himself and his friend and ask Steve his name. The conversation was basic but pleasant and three more beers were ordered as Steve explained that he was new to town. Not to be outdone by his fat friend it was Kyle this time who downed his drink in one and put in another order. “I hope we didn’t hurt you too much?” Justin asked. Steve explained that he had been winded but he was otherwise fine. And it was okay anyway; such things happen in the pit.

“You know what we need to do, don’t you?” Kyle asked Justin. “Yes!” Justin said, “Let’s get slam drunk!”

It was explained to Steve that this means getting so drunk that you don’t feel any pain in the pit. Steve wondered how many beers that would take for two guys this big. He was shocked to discover that they even had a way to measure.

Justin seemed to know the guy behind the bar who supplied them with the beer bong and the tape measure. The first thing Steve had to do was measure the circumference of his new friend's bellies at their widest point, an inch or two above the belly button. 61 and 62 inches. Justin was actually the slightly bigger one. Kyle then measured Steve. 30 inches. The task was simple; do enough beer bongs so that your stomach bloated out at least two inches. At that point you’d had enough to be slam drunk. Steve thought that this was one of the stupidest things that he’d ever heard, but it seemed like harmless fun.

It only took another four beers for Steve to be declared slam drunk. His thin shapely form clearly distended. For Justin and Kyle that was not the case. The fat friends glugged, gurgled, and burped their way through another ten beers each. Steve watched as their earthly round bellies filled and swelled with every calorific carbonated beverage that he funneled into their gaping greedy mouths.

Red, round, and distended, and with a constant stream of gas escaping from his gullet, Steve measured Kyle. His distaste for the chunky boys sweaty stretched skin long since dissipated in a haze of beer. He was pleased to declare him 63 inches -  more than slam drunk. Kyle snatched the tape measure from him and set about grappling with Justin’s more than ample belly. Also 63 inches. The three of them had one more beer to celebrate before wobbling their way back towards the front of the gig. They were just pushing past a group of girls holding bags at the back when they heard the lead singer say; “Thank you, Denver. We’ll see you next year!”

“Oh fuck it!” Kyle said. “Nevermind,” Justin said, “Let’s go get food. I’m hungry, and need to soak up all this beer.” Steve quickly agreed to join, not wanting to lose contact with his new found friends.

Jason always got to shows early. Like a lot of teenagers new to the scene he was always keen to get a space on the front row from where he could get a great view of the band. He had yet to learn that most of the fun happened a few rows back. They were just starting their second song when he saw a topless fat guy with brown curly hair and a huge round ball belly somehow clamber up onto the stage. He watched as the guy drunkenly bounced around the stage, sweaty belly and tits bouncing heavily up and down to the beat of the drums. The guy gave the lead guitarist a huge bear hug and made his way towards the lead singer, who seeing what was coming managed to duck out of the way to escape an unwanted fat sloppy kiss on the cheek. The fat guy then turned to the front and slapped the underside of his overhanging belly, sending fat rolls rippling up it. He belched loudly, threw his arms up high and wide causing his fat moobs to shake, and threw himself directly at Jason.

Jason felt a sharp pain in his neck as his head was forced unnaturally far back under the force of a three hundred pound plus belly slamming drunkenly into his face. He crumpled to the floor as the people around him parted to avoid the impact. He lay winded on the hard black sticky floor, pinned down by the stinky ball of fat.

A pair of chubby hands reached down to help him up and he was surprised to see the fat curly haired boy stood in front of him smiling kindly. “Sorry about that” the fat boy shouted, trying desperately to be heard over the sound of guitars. “I should have known that I’m too fat to stage dive. Can I buy you a beer to make it up to you?”

“Yeah sure!” Jason shouted back feeling grateful for the kind gesture. “Cool! My name’s Steve,” Steve said, “My friends are at the bar.”