chapter 4

3.
The trip through the forest played out like something from a movie. The fat, gullible tourist led by the natives who laughed at his every move. I shrieked after stepping through spider webs, winced as thorns and sticks poked into my naked soft body. None of which was helped by the pitch darkness held at bay by a single torch. I was shivering, terrified, and covered in scratches by the time we finally made it to a clearing, and what a clearing it was.

I had no idea what I was expecting, but the city laid before me was not it. In front of my eyes was a grid of buildings, lined by bustling streets filled with people and wagons. Burning street lamps at regular intervals bathed the city in a fiery glow. Many buildings were over two stories tall and thatched with ferns and branches, the streets paved with cobblestones. At the center was a pyramid building with a bronze sun at its peak, fire lighting it on all sides. I stopped at the edge of the forest to take in the sight before one of the men prodded my ass. I jiggled my way forward, cognizant of the growing crowd by the first street. I didn’t realize it at first, but as I got closer I couldn’t deny it. These people had come to see me.

“Yo! It’s the fat one!” I heard a voice cry.
“Gordura! It’s the gordura!”
“He’s even bigger than they said!”
“Look at all that fat!” Another cried. The crew that had brought me here began to snigger. They seemed to delight in the shade of red I sported, my embarrassment obvious. As we reached the street the crowd surrounded me. The crew barked orders and held out their weapons, but that was the extent of my protection they afforded. The people allowed me to walk, but had no qualm with touching me all over.

“Gordura gordura gordura!” the crowd chanted, laughter never far off hand. They grabbed at my belly, my ass, my moobs. They poked, prodded, pinched and scooped. Mothers, fathers, even grandparents all looked at me with bright smiles, touching me as much and as long as they could. As we walked up the street toward the pyramid sun building I had no doubt, the event morphed into a kind of parade. All around me were cheering green-eyed natives. They chanted, ‘gordura chegada! Fat has arrived!’ over and over, like I was a float.

Suddenly, a group of older women with bags slung over their shoulders shoved their way close to me. The ‘guards’ who led this slow march laughed as they drew near, urging them on. Someone in the crowd grabbed my hands and pulled them behind my back, binding them with a rope. Before I knew it the older women reached into their bags and produced white orbs a bit bigger than a golf ball.

“Gordura comer! Eat Fatty!” One shouted before shoving one of the orbs in my face. My eyes bugged out with alarm, but soon I moaned as I tasted the flavor. The orbs were made of a bready pastry material, and had a core of custard. I could barely catch my breath before another was shoved in, and another, and another. I kept walking, my jaw trying to keep up with the blitz of treats. My cheeks bulged as I fought to get them down, though it was a happy effort. I had been well and truly ravenous.

It takes a while to walk as a fat guy though. When we finally took the last turn to get towards the sun building, I actually felt my capacity begin to flag. The number of people eager to stuff food down my throat was impressive. Even with my vast appetite I hoped they would ease up. I bucked as a particularly large one was forced between my lips, sending my tits wobbling. The crowd only laughed as I tried to break free, another few orbs forced in. I choked down the gooey sweets, the food feeling like cement going down. By the time I entered the sun building my belly ached. I panted, both from walking and the pressure in my middle.

In front of me was a throne. A line of torches illuminated it from behind. A figure I couldn’t make out sat there, their eyes the only thing breaking from the silhouette. The green I had seen in the others was nothing compared to theirs, it looked like rods of uranium had been carved into irises the color was so vibrant.

“So,” the voice of the figure, deep and commanding spoke, “our own Gilligan did not lie. He made his Gordura after all. I am happy for you both.”

The sound of metal clanging off metal rang through the hall. I looked to the source and saw a cage being wheeled in front of me. As soon as I saw who it contained I gasped.

“Abram!” I cried. The figure on the throne laughed.

“However happy I am for you though, a deal remains a deal. My name is Cintura. I am this island's humble servant. You both are forfeit to our Illah de Banha, the island of lard.” As I saw Abram in the flickering torch light, I couldn't help but notice he was naked. Not only that, but the flame light licked at the curve of his stomach. It looked taught, filled to the brim. Discomfort swam over Abram’s face.

“Gordura, you have gotten a head start, but you are not exempt either. You will both embody the name of our island. We struck a deal with your foolish lover due to our shared ideas of sexuality. With this turn of fate, I hope he has similar enjoyment having it done to himself.”