Chapter 1 - Worst vacation ever

-Forced feeding, forced feminization, immobility, multiple feeders, all in a tropical setting-


Theo hadn’t been on many prop planes, but he was pretty sure the way that the pilot muttered, “Shit. Shit. Shit,” was a bad sign.

He opened his mouth to ask the man what was wrong, when the small plane dropped ten feet. “Everything is fine,” shouted the pilot. “We’re just hitting a little turbulence. We have to turn back, you’ll get a refund at the hangar.”

Theo slumped back into his seat. This Caribbean vacation wasn’t really going his way so far, with this too-short flight being the latest example. In a nervous habit, he ran his hand from his chest down to his belly, soothing himself. The lines of his body were nearly flat, just a few pounds on his waist that he couldn’t budge. He found oddly comforting every time his hand grazed the slight soft flesh. Comfort was badly needed right now.

The pilot swore again, and hit a button, flipped a switch, and turned a dial on the complicated dash. “Tower, this is — “

Theo never got to hear the rest of what the pilot was going to say. The plane dropped again, but this time it didn’t stop. He screwed his eyes shut, and held one hand over his heart, the other subconsciously drifting to his belly.

In the pilot’s screaming and the wailing winds and the shrieking machine, he felt strangely at peace. A thought bubbled up, unbidden in Theo’s mind. “I would have done things differently, if I’d known this was all there was.”

The dropping sensation tumbled his senses and the pressure felt like a vice on his whole body. Mercifully, at the last moment, he blacked out, and missed the spectacle of the plane, spiraling smoke and debris, crash into the choppy, sapphire waters. The small plane was swallowed by the ocean, and the waves covered it as if it had never existed at all.

***

It was noisy here, under the ocean. Theo had expected it to be quiet, with only the sound of waves as low rumble, but there were people talking, and birds squawking, and the soft sounds of fabric being folded and furniture moving. Without opening his eyes, he could see the scene around him: beautiful mermaids, shining scales, brilliant coral, a bustling town at the bottom of the sea.

He should get up and meet everyone, but oh – everything ached! He wondered why.

A woman’s voice said something in a language he couldn’t understand — of course he couldn’t, he hadn’t been under the ocean long enough to learn to speak fish — and her voice sounded excited.

“Mister? Mister?” The feminine voice repeated the word again and again. When did fish learn English? This was all so confusing. His eyes fluttered open and he squinted in the low light.

His mind had come up with a remarkably creative scene, but the real one that welcomed him was much more comforting. Theo was in a small, cozy looking hut made of woven reeds, posts of hardwood, and a thatched roof. The floor was packed dirt, and swept clean with a colorful handwoven throw rug on the floor. Windows set close to the ceiling let in air and light, and the breeze rippled through simple curtains. It was a peaceful homey scene, though nothing like anywhere he’d ever been before.

He raised his eyes to see a strikingly beautiful woman with bronze skin, dark hair, and dancing eyes of honeyed amber. Full, rosy-brown lips smiled down at him, framing white teeth with a little gap in the front, and upon seeing his eyes open the smile went wider. “Hey mister, you’re awake!” She had a faint accent, lilting, musical, unfamiliar.

His mouth opened to ask her a question, but his throat was raw and fiery. Theo collapsed, coughing. “Oh here, mister, you’ve been out for a week. I’ll bet you're very thirsty.” The woman was dressed in a wrap around skirt in a geometric pattern of reds and yellows, under a bandeau top that looked to have been made from an old T shirt. It took Theo a moment to place the logo on her top as he hadn’t seen it in over two decades: Orbitz, a weird fad drink from the Chretien administration.

In another circumstance, he might have pondered why or how she was wearing that shirt, but her body was incredibly distracting. Her curves were astonishing, her bust quite full and her hips flared out, wide and round, with a derriere to match. Any reality star on TV would have paid quite a bit to achieve the body nature had given her for free.

She held a wooden cup under his lips and gently guided him to drink from it. He gulped it down gratefully, his poor scorched throat finally getting some relief. “Easy there, mister, we don’t want you to choke.”

Oh, her hands were so soft and cool on his skin. He realized belatedly that he was shirtless. “Clothes?” he asked.

“Over there. We weren’t sure when you’d wake up!” Her face was lovely, sunny glints in her warm eyes sparkled, and her lips were softly plump. They curved easily into a kind smile. It looked like that expression came quite naturally to her.

Theo’s hand skimmed down his body – a week unconscious seemed to have left him a touch flabbier. He felt weak and shaky, and had a variety of physical needs competing for his attention. With great effort, he swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Hold on, mister, you’ve been unconscious for a week!” He ignored the woman’s protests and stood up, only to promptly collapse on the floor. “Careful, careful,” she murmured and dropped to one knee to help him up.

Too wobbly to stand, he admitted defeat. “Sorry,” he said meekly. “I wanted to go get something to eat.”

“Why didn’t you say so?” The woman’s warm expression turned into a beaming smile. “That can be arranged. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Miss!” he called after her, “What’s your name?”

“Mara,” she said, shooting him a saucy grin from the doorway, before flipping her dark hair over her shoulder and disappearing into the sunny day.

Theo didn’t even have the energy to ruminate over his situation. His stomach growled loudly amidst a volley of hunger pains. Mara and her community had obviously taken care of him while he was unconscious, but he needed solid food. He stroked his grumbling belly softly, mindlessly. Its newly flabby shape felt slightly bigger, certainly less firm. The softness felt good though, so warm and comforting.

He drifted off to sleep again, cuddling his own belly, and now two voices roused him. They were speaking that unfamiliar language, but both sounded cheerful, even excited.

The new voice was a bit lower, but still feminine and lively. “Mister?” said the second voice. Theo’s eyes fluttered open again. Another woman, a bit taller and slimmer than Mara leaned over him. Her bosom was not nearly as ample as the first woman’s, though she similarly sported an old tee as a bandeau: Crystal Pepsi, boldly splashed across her chest. Her eyes were hazel, and had a piercing quality. She seemed to snip him into measurable bits with her gaze, yet somehow, her sharp attention felt protective. Or possessive, maybe.

She crossed her arms and shifted her weight, her gaze scanning him. “You’re doing better than I thought you would. I was worried you wouldn’t wake up again.”

“Lucky me,” said Theo, a bit weakly. “Where am I?”

The women exchanged glances and looked a bit somber. The laughter in Mara’s eyes became subdued. She took a deep, deliberate breath and licked her lips before speaking. “You washed up on our shore a week ago. This may be difficult to believe, but we live in what you might call the Bermuda Triangle.”

Difficult to believe was an understatement. Theo stared at Mara, then at the other woman, then back again before a startled laugh erupted from him. He couldn’t wrap his head around it. This must be a… was it a prank? Was someone going to jump out with a camera and reveal it was a show all along?

“He’ll have to see it to believe it,” the other woman said firmly. “Get up, you can lean on me.” Despite her slimmer figure, she was quite strong and hauled Theo out of bed with little effort. The trio stumbled out of the hut, and Theo shielded his eyes against the bright day.

After giving him a few moments to adjust, Mara said in a quiet voice, “Look at the sky, Theo.”

He dropped his hand and squinted up to the blue above. It was the usual perfect turquoise of a Caribbean sky, but after a moment he noticed something else. It was like a sheet of plastic wrap, a bubble over the island, was distorting the sky. Clouds moved through it, warping and changing as they passed. The color on the other side of the bubble was subtly different, like a tinted window.

It was something out of a science fiction movie, a special effect, surely. He blinked and stared again, slowly turning in a circle to see that the distortion wrapped around the entire island. Other islanders passed by, and though Theo didn’t see it they gave him sympathetic looks. He was neither the first outsider here, nor would he be the last, but each had their own painful start here on Triangle Island.

“It’s real,” Theo mumbled.

“It’s real,” Mara said softly, resting her hand on his shoulder.

His legs shook and he felt like he was going to faint. “I think I need to lie down now,” he said after a few moments of gaping at the sky.

“Of course,” said the second woman. The two helped him back to his hut, where he fell onto the bed in a trembling mess. The second woman asked, “Were you still hungry?”

Theo didn’t even sit up when he answered, “Yes.”

There was the sound of movement around the room, and then Mara said, “We put some food for you on the table by your bed. I live right next door. I’ll hear you if you call, so don’t be shy if you need something.”

He sniffled into his pillow and didn’t answer. The women stepped out of the hut and hooked the curtain across the door for his privacy. “Poor guy,” said Mara. The hut was close to the village center. Newcomers were usually placed in the heart of the community, heaven knew they needed the support.

She looked with a thoughtful expression at a group of massively fat men sitting around in the square, snacking and chatting together. Here on Triangle Island, fatness was one of the most desirable qualities a man could have. When a boy became a man, he underwent a process to fatten himself up from ordinary plumpness to an admirably well-larded state, a process that usually also resulted in the fattened man and his feeder ending up together.

Mara had helped fatten men, like most of the women her age. Unlike most of her peers though, she was still single despite her lovely features, excellent cooking, and passionate nature. The truth was that even here, in a culture that adored and encouraged fat men to be as fat as they could be, no one had caught her eye. She didn’t just want a big fat hog of a man, she wanted the experience of nurturing a man into massive obesity, to see an average man swell into blubbery rolls, a hanging belly, immense rotundity all for her to adore and enjoy.

“He’s cute though,” replied her friend, resting her finger on her chin and similarly considering the view. “I wonder what his appetite is like.”

“You’re incorrigible! I saw how much porkroot powder you added to his gruel, by the way.” The tuber was popular on Triangle Island, and only found there. It was delicious, naturally salty, starchy, and oily. New arrivals compared it to a baked potato soaked in butter and topped with bacon. Best of all it could be eaten raw, prepared a variety of ways, or turned into a powder to make porridge more nourishing for an invalid. A few tablespoons of the powder would add nearly a thousand calories – half of an average man’s daily intake. It was a ubiquitous part of Triangle Island cuisine, and a crucial part of their fat-loving society.

The taller woman grinned. “He needed the extra calories to heal.”

Mara elbowed her friend in the ribs. “I bet. How does your stock of flowering hogvine look?”

“Good, I have plenty dried, and there will be more in bloom in a few weeks. I’m guessing that you’ve decided?” Poli – for that was the tall woman’s name – grinned down to her friend and rested her hand on her shoulder.

Mara nodded and smiled back. “I think he’s the one. I knew it when I saw him, and speaking to him just confirmed it.” She turned and looked back at the hut where Theo soothed himself to sleep, lonely and scared. “I’m going to turn him into the pig of my dreams.”