****** South Pacific ******
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South Pacific


John Baldridge's day was not going well. In fact, he had not had a really good
day in two weeks. Piss poor, when you got right down to it. And everything up
to then had been going so well...

He was two months into a very leisurely single-handed circumnavigation in his
Swan 65, one of the fastest, best-built, and most luxurious sailing yachts in
the world. Starting out in California, he made the jump to Hawaii, then to Wake
Island. The run to the Marshall Islands should have been the last really long
leg of his Pacific voyage. He intended to island-hop down through the Samoas,
the Cook Islands, then back to Tonga and New Caledonia. Or maybe he would
decide to follow the Samoas with New Guinea and then hop immediately to
Australia. He wasn't sure.

All he did know was that he left the Marshalls 14 days ago in bad weather that
got rapidly no better. During his third night out, running before a full gale
under bare poles, a rogue wave knocked the boat down and actually turned it
360-degrees. He was below at the time, and suffered only bruises, but when he
went on deck all was a shambles. The mast was broken about fifteen feet off the
deck, and there was little to do except get out the bolt-cutters and cut it all
away. He didn't even dare trail the mast off a long line astern, as he feared
it would catch up with the boat on the front of a wave and pierce the hull. So,
with his harness securely fastened, he cut all the shrouds and stays to
minimize the danger to the boat, and retreated below. He spent the night
pumping water that was coming in from somewhere, but he could not figure out
where it was coming from, and as long as he could stay ahead of it he just
crouched on the cabin sole and pumped. He even managed a cat-nap or two later
on during the night.

Wind and seas calmed somewhat by morning, and John went out to inspect the
damage. It was worse than he thought. When the mast came down, it took with it
the pulpit and bow-rail. Both his primary anchors were on that pulpit and were
now gone. "How could I not have heard all that chain rattling away?" he
thought, and decided it would remain a mystery. His only anchor now was a 50-
pound Bruce attached to 100 feet of chain and another 100 feet of rope. The
hole where the pulpit used to be attached to the bow explained the water leak.
He set to work to make the boat as seaworthy as he could. Fortunately, he had
an extensive stock of repair materials on board, and soon had the bow
watertight, and if not strong, at least strong enough to withstand occasional
dunkings without the patch collapsing. In tribute to Nautor's skill at building
this great boat, there was little other damage. The engine ran, the generator
ran, his electrical system was soon back together, after he taped off all the
wires that used to travel up the mast. He spent the next few days straightening
out the mess above and below deck, and jury-rigged a little sail on his mast-
stub.

The next 12 days were spent trying to figure out where he was. In the roll-
over, both sextants and most of his navigational electronic gear were
demolished when the microwave came loose from its anchors and flew across the
cabin to the nav station. Still, he was physically well, his food stores were
in good shape, and if he resisted the impulse to run the main engine, he could
survive for at least a month without great discomfort. He ran the generator for
two hours each day, just enough to keep the batteries up, and had adjusted to a
new, slower routine for the day.

But it was damned frustrating to be making on 50 to 75 miles a day under his
new little sail, when he was used to 150-200. Some days he made even less, as
the winds, which had been so fierce for those first few days, seemed to have
left for good. It would have been nice to contact someone, anyone, by radio,
but the nav station had been pretty much wiped out, so here he was. It would
also be nice to have some idea of where that storm had taken him.

He spent his days re-reviewing his gay porn novels, for the hundredth time, and
even sat down at his laptop PC and typed in some stories of his own. Not much
else to do when out at sea with nothing in sight. Except jerk off, which he did
several times each day.

And he still enjoyed his all-alone sex play, actually enjoyed it more than
ever, as the rigors of the trip had hardened his body to an extent he never
imagined. He looked a couple years older than his 28, and his smooth skin was
an extremely dark tan, with blond hairs standing out all over him like spun
gold. Needless to say, most days he wore nothing, or the lightest pajamas as
protection from the fierce sun, so he had no tan lines anywhere. Even his thick
nine-inch cut dick had a rich, dark tan. Overall, he felt good, and bored, and
lucky. He couldn't wait for the day when he could put the boat back together
and start logging in some real miles.

It was the boredom that made him careless, he later figured. For on this 14th
day, with still no sight of anything that enabled him to plot a position, he
turned on his portable radio direction-finder, a crude device that sometimes
helped when you were very near radio-navigation stations on shore. Absently
flipping up and down the dial, he happened on a very distinctive signal. "Dash,
dash, dot, dash... dash, dash, dot, dash..." on 38.76 kilo-Hertz. He looked it
up in his Light List, and spotted it: a privately-maintained radio beacon on
the north end of a north-south reef that protected Man Island. Approximate
signal range, 150 miles. "Hot shit," he thought, "and a good omen. Man Island
sounds like a true paradise!" Just past Man Island was, logically enough, Woman
Island, which was much larger.

Of course he didn't know how far from the island he was, the chart indicated
there were no other islands to the northeast, the direction he was coming from.
But the signal level was very low, and his radio direction-finder was a good
one, so he figured he had at least a hundred miles to go, which meant 20 hours
at his current rate of 4 knots. He set a course thirty degrees off the beacon,
so he would be passing north of it. Then he figured he would hold that course,
and when the beacon was 45 degrees off his bow, he would use triangulation to
figure how far from shore he was.

It was a long day. He approached the 45-degree point in the middle of the
night, or about twelve hours from his first position. His log showed that he
had covered just about 50 nautical miles, which meant that at the time of the
first position, he was just about 111 miles from the beacon, and he was now
about 70 miles off the beacon. The wind had dropped to almost nothing, and he
was not making only about two- to three-knots. "Well, so the last leg will take
a little time. Fuck it - I'm celebrating."

He opened a bottle of good wine he had been saving for a special occasion, got
out his porn books and some toys, and started celebrating. He never quite
remembered what, specifically, he did during that session. All he remembered
was waking up to the sound and feeling that all sailors dread: the crunch of
the deep keel hitting something very hard.

Still drunk, he flew on deck. It was just daylight, and the wind was up to
about thirty knots. Even with his greatly reduced sail area, he knew he had to
be making seven or eight knots. Bang-crunch! Breaking waves were pushing the
big boat relentlessly over the reef and there just wasn't anything he could do
about it. The ruthless punishment continued for several minutes as he stood in
the companionway, dazed in his alcohol-induced stupor. A particularly big wave
lifted the boat up about ten feet and brought it down, upright, on the coral
with a sound he could not describe. He realized the keel had been pushed up
through the hull and it was time to get off. He crawled on the fore deck and
opened the canister that contained the life raft. In seconds he had the raft
inflated, and had unclipped his harness from the big boat to the rope that ran
around the raft. With breakers all around, he figured it would be best to
launch the raft, then jump in and try to get away from the big boat as it broke
up on the coral. Once clear, he could pull himself to the raft and climb in.

Crunch! With that wave he could feel the Swan's beautiful hull begin to split
apart. He pushed the raft off the leeward rail, waited to make sure it landed
upright, and then jumped in.

The waves and currents made it hard to swim. Or was it his fatigue and the
booze? He struggled to reach the surface, and then it seemed light twenty
minutes he fought to pull himself to the life-raft. Finally, he could hold on
to its rope and catch his breath. Were he and the raft drifting away from the
Swan? Yes. That was good. And the farther in on the reef he went, the calmer
the seas became.

Where was the island that supposedly accompanied any shallow reef? He pulled
himself around to the other side of the raft and saw - nothing. "Shit," he
thought. "If this is Man Island reef, I shouldn't be able to see anything from
the raft, because the reef is almost nine miles offshore. I still can't figure
out how I got here so fast, or how my course didn't put me about thirty miles
to the north of the island." After a few minutes, he began to feel tired, which
he knew was largely the combination of fatigue and hypothermia. That meant it
was time to get out of the water now. He summoned all his remaining strength
and pulled himself inside the covered raft. He passed out almost instantly,
unaware of two things: one, that he had lost a considerable quantity of blood
through a leg-wound as he jumped off the boat, and two, that he was still
"wearing" the 13-inch dildo that he had passed out with last night.

It turned out that the reef surrounded an island. John awoke in a thatched hut
to the sight of almost a dozen natives crowding around him, chattering away.
His leg was bandaged, and one of the women, who were all bare-breasted, offered
him a bowl of soup-like liquid. He tried to sit up but a lightning-bolt of a
headache made him collapse on his mat. She knelt down next to him and fed him,
slowly and gently.

This continued for a day and a half. He either slept of passed out for a while,
then awoke and drank some more liquid of some sort. When he had to pee, a
container was placed next to him so all he had to do was lie on his side and
pee in the bowl. He was naked, but didn't mind. On the second, or maybe the
third day, he could sit up. This caused great excitement among his care-takers,
and many people came and went into his hut, all talking with great animation.
Late in the day he tried to stand up, and the women who had been feeding and
bathing him wanted to help. But he motioned for the two gorgeous, muscled young
men who had been standing by his door to help him up. "Shit," he thought,
"they're gorgeous and they're twins! What I wouldn't give for a few days with
them!" They flashed quick smiles and lifted him right off the floor. The women
ran from the hut, shouting something to anyone who could hear.

"Thank you," he smiled to his two young helpers. The two then began talking to
him in their language, which of course was gibberish to John. They were very
excited and animated, but he could not make out anything of what they were
saying. Until, that is, that they both pulled their loin-cloths to the side and
showed him their cocks, both enormous. Not only showed them to him, but began
stroking them, making them grow to unbelievable proportions. They then stopped
talking, and looked at him with great expectation.

John did what came naturally. He thanked whatever gods there might be for his
good fortune. And got hard. And he put a hand around each cock. The two boys
immediately knelt down and began kissing and licking his cock and balls, but
just for a moment. Then they both jumped up and ran from the hut, hard-on's
raging, shouting and screaming and the top of their lungs. John, perplexed, and
uncertain whether he had committed some sort of tribal offense, immediately
lost his hard-on. He walked to the entrance-way of his hut, and found himself
blocked by two big guards who immediately crossed spears in front of him. "This
does not look good," he thought, and retired to his mat on the dirt floor.

The day became evening, and John could not make out what was happening. There
were sounds of something going in outside, sounds of people doing something in
some organized fashion. He wasn't sure whether he was going to be the main
course tonight or what. All he could do was wait... and remember the
beautifully-chiseled features... and huge uncut cocks... of those two young
men.

Finally he heard people approach. The guards at his hut parted their swords. An
old man entered, followed by several others, all in obviously ceremonial robes.
John stood still and met the old man's gaze. The two looked into each other's
eyes for several moments. John realized with a start that this old man was in
reality an incredibly old woman. The village chief? He didn't know. The second
man, who was in fact a man, was probably the head medicine man. The old woman
slowly lowered her eyes, taking in John's features. When she saw John's cock he
solemnly reached out with one hand and cupped John's cock - not harshly and not
in a caressing manner, but simply and matter-of-factly holding it for a moment
as it to feel its weight and then let it go.

She then turned to the old man and the two engaged in quiet conversation. They
seemed to reach a decision of some sort, which they announced to the others
standing just outside the hut. There was excited murmurings outside, and as
they turned to face John again, it was with smiles. John returned the smile as
the two each took one arm and ushered him outside the hut.

They pressed through a throng of people, all anxious to get a glimpse of the
stranger. The crowd followed them down a path, evidently leading to the beach.
On the beach the two old-timers faced John and spoke to him, although of course
he could understand none of what they said. They spoke seriously, although it
seemed to him kindly, and with obvious respect. He was surprised, then, when
hands grabbed his wrists and tied them together behind his back. He protested,
but the several people spoke calmingly to him. He figured he might as well go
along for the ride, whatever it was to be. There wasn't much he could do
against this mob anyway.

Then the crowd parted on the beach, giving him a view that made him smile. The
muscle-twins waited in an outrigger canoe, smiling at him. He smiled back and
the crowd let out a cheer. He was led down the beach and put in the canoe.
There were four big, powerful men with long paddles in the boat. Drums started
beating from somewhere on the island, and these four went to work.

The twins were sitting facing him, start naked, with raging hard-on's, which
they immediately began stroking. John hardened, and tried to free his hands
from the bindings. One twin shook his head at him, while smiling, and John
relaxed. The other then bent down and took John's cock in his mouth and began
sucking expertly. John leaned back and let himself enjoy the feeling, and a cry
went up from the crowd on shore. John sat up, startled, but the other twin
pushed him back very gently and began caressing his body as his brother sucked
him off. He came with a loud cry, and heard the shore-side crowd shout out
again, but he didn't care. The twin sucking him took every drop of his hot load
in his mouth, and then carefully, slowly, pulled off, dragging his lips
carefully as though to catch every last drop. John shuddered at the feeling,
and then was surprised. The twins were kissing, and obviously sharing his cum-
load between themselves! A huge cry went up from the beach, and the drums
reached a fever-pitch. John looked at the beach and saw the crowd dancing its
way back into the island. The paddlers turned the canoe seaward and poured on
the steam.

His twins, meanwhile, had assumed a 69, and were sucking each other off for all
they were worth. They came in each other's mouths. John just half-lay there,
unable to do anything except get hard again.

Upon cumming, the twins got up and came over to him, laying down on either side
of him. It was a delightfully tight fit. They brought their faces to his, and
the three engaged in a three-way kiss, sharing each others' cum-juice. John
thought momentarily about HIV, but as he was negative, and had been safe for
years, decided there was little risk out here. Besides, there was little he
could do about it. Except get hard again. And the twins had just the cure for
that.

So the boat-ride progressed, until the three fell asleep to the rhythmic
strokes of the four powerful oarsmen. They awoke as the canoe was beached, and
John saw a small group of people gathered to welcome them, with many torches
lit. The twins helped John up and out of the canoe, and each of the twenty or
so men on the beach warmly welcomed him. There were no women. The group then
walked into the island, passing several huts and reaching a perfectly round
clearing, about fifty feet in diameter, ringed with torches. Huts ringed the
clearing except at two opposing sides. At one end of the clearing was a huge
tripod made of whole palm-trees. A wooden platform was beneath the tripod. And
suspended from the tripod by a crude was a log, carefully balanced to remain
horizontal. This log was about five feet above the platform, and had something
hanging from each of its ends. A bosun's seat at one end, (or at least
something that looked just like one, with a board suspended by two ropes), and
a rope net at the other. Sitting on the platform was a large piles of large,
polished, matched stones.

At the opposite end of the clearing was a path lined with torches that wound up
a steep hillside, out of sight.

The procession went straight to the platform, and the twins led John up onto
it, motioning for him to sit in the make-shift seat. He did, and as he sat,
other men quickly put stones in the opposing net until the seat would hold him
up. The small crowd cheered, and the twins led them all into the center of the
clearing. There they sat, as the others scurried around to bring big trays of
food and drink. The twins untied John's wrist-bindings, and brought him a loin-
cloth. Then everyone ate and drank their fill. The food, which included a roast
pig as well as a fermented drink, was excellent. The pig was heavily basted
with fat, which made its skin dark brown and crackly, and the aroma and taste,
although wonderful, was somewhat different from anything he had tasted before.
Although John couldn't understand a word, he joined in the celebratory spirit
and ate until he was stuffed. A little while later, two young men brought out
trays of baked goods. "Baked goods!" he thought, "on a primitive island! These
people know how to live!"

Throughout the meal John was wondering where the women were, but by the third
or fourth glass of the local wine, he knew - there were no women on this
island. This must be Man Island, and the reef he demolished his boat on was
that other island with the funny name! He was even farther off course than he
had imagined. He was perplexed, as he had never made an error that big before,
wine or no wine.

Whatever. He would have to find out later. Partly because he was still
recovering from his blood-loss and partly because he didn't understand anything
that was being said, he found himself tired, and made sleeping motions to one
of the twins. Others had started to drift off to the huts, so no one took great
notice when the three stood up and started off. The twins led him up the lit
path, climbing the steep hillside for quite a while. They finally reached a
level clearing with a large hut in front of them, but there was something in
front of the door. It looked like a sculpture of some sort... "Holy shit!" he
laughed. It was his dildo, carefully mounted on a stump. "Hmmm..." he thought,
"so that's why I'm on this island!"

The hut was rather grand, by island standards. It had one huge bed, raised off
the floor, with an actual mattress of sorts. It had a wooden sink with running
water, gravity fed from a wooden cistern higher up on the mountain. Positively
palatial.

John turned his attention to the two gorgeous boys. They probably weren't much
over sixteen, were both about five-foot seven, had almond-shaped eyes, blue-
black hair that was as soft as silk, and naturally graceful muscular bodies
that didn't have a hair on them. And big cocks, that were both standing at
attention. Well, the three went at it, and spent almost the entire night
fucking and sucking and playing. They did three-way fucks so often that each
man go to experience each position - top, middle, and bottom. The boys were
inventive, and had make-shift ropes ready, to tie one up so the other two could
really work on him. It was almost daylight when the three finally fell asleep.

And almost midday when John was awakened by the sound of people in the hut. He
opened his eyes to see a line of about eight men, all standing along the wall,
looking at him. Each person was carrying something. John nudged the twins, who
immediately got up and started giving instructions to the line-up. Two boys
approached the bed with a basin of warm water and wash-cloths and proceeded to
give John a sponge-bath. Then a boy approached with a fresh loin-cloth. Then
about four older men set platters of food down on his bed. Fresh tropical
fruits. A spiked fruit-juice. More baked goods. And the whole line-up then
stood against the wall, and watched him expectantly.

John motioned for the twins, and with their already-formed crude sign-language
got through to them that he was uncomfortable eating with everyone watching
him. So they shooed everyone out and sat down with him. They kept encouraging
him to eat, even though he wasn't very hungry. He went along with them, and
they started giving him language lessons.

They spent the next week intensively teaching him their language. John learned
that identical twins in this culture are encouraged to accentuate their twin-
ness, and actually act as one person in two bodies. John's twins were named
something that sounded like "nahuni."

They also spent the week fucking. The sex kept getting hotter and hotter. By
the end of the week John was having the best sex of his life, and it looked
like it was only going to get better.

The only tension was about food. It seemed everyone on the island expected John
to eat enormous quantities of food. The twins tried to explain why to him, but
it was yet another week before John understood enough of the language to pick
up what they were saying.

And that was not a good day. It seems John was the prophesied chief of the
same-sex island of this tribe. The prophesy went on to say that by the
appearance and authentication of this chief, John, the same-sex couples would
be put on a level with the main village, rather than being like the castaways
they now were. They would continue to maintain the same-sex island, but travel
would be unrestricted, and the same-sex couples would be honored as something
valuable and special to the entire village. All this came from a prophesy
originating with another sailor from who-knows how long ago, who evidently
created quite a stir on the islands.

So far, so good. It was the authentication that damped his spirits. The
prophesy said that within six moons the rightful chief would double his weight.
"Well, forget that," John said, "I hate fat and everything about it. Always
have, and always will."

But there was another wrinkle. As the chief and the head medicine-man had
decided he was the rightful same-sex chief, failure to fulfill the prophesy
meant death to him and all the men on his island. As last night was the New
Moon, there would be another feast and a weighing each new moon. Last night,
John weighed thirteen stones, and he figured he was down to about 145, which
was low for his five-foot ten-inch frame. So he figured that with food and
exercise he could build back up to 160 or so, but that was it.

"No, that will not do," the twins said. "You are to grow very fat, and grow
large woman-like breasts, and round, soft hips." He had to double his weight,
and that was that.

"Two-hundred and ninety pounds," he thought, "disgusting. Besides, I have work
to do... want to salvage whatever I can from the boat before it all floats
away. Well, I'll keep 'em happy for a couple of weeks until I figure out what
I'm going to do with myself. I'll know more after I see the boat."

And he started eating. And exercising. When the twins protested, he explained
that he had to get into shape before he put on all the fat. They grudgingly
accepted it and let him go. They also helped organize a party to go out to the
boat and see what could be salvaged from it.

John was hoping they could eventually float the boat off the reef and repair
it, but when he saw the extent of the damage, he realized that was impossible.
They did get the compasses off, the charts, and other pieces of gear that were
small and might prove useful on another boat, and headed back to their island.

That night he was somewhat depressed. Not that he was tired of the hot sex with
the two boys, in fact it was still getting better. But he wanted to be back out
on the boat and moving. "Oh well," he thought, "might as well make the best of
it here. It could be worse - I could be on an island where they kill all the
gay inhabitants. Here, they'll only kill me if I don't chub-out." So he
suggested they drink that night - he felt like getting really drunk. After the
first two drinks, accompanied of course with food, because the island's people
were constantly putting food in front of him, the twins brought out a pipe and
lit it. They were smoking some local weed that acted very much like marijuana.
The three got very stoned, and already tipsy from the wine, John decided, "What
the fuck... let's pig out. That's what they want, it'll save my neck if I'm not
already off this rock, and I know it will always come off once I'm back on the
boat. So I get a little pot-belly - fuck 'em - if that's what they want they
can have it." And he dug into the food platters with gusto, much to the delight
of the twins. They then fucked the night away, again even better than it had
been so far.

For much of the next few weeks John got into a routine of staying slightly
drunk, and quite high on the weed. And he expanded past the twins - he found
that anyone on the island considered it the highest honor to have sex with him,
and surprisingly, the twins didn't seem jealous. They just jumped into whatever
scene was happening at the moment. And he ate. His belly filled out and was
soon covered with the slimmest layer of softness. Now everyone who saw him
during the day had to pat his belly, and the men and boys particularly longed
for him. It was hard to fight off all this attention; he was not literally
being treated like the chief of the island. Anything he wanted was instantly
available. Drink, smoke, sex, massages - anything. If he had a notion to watch
two boys fuck on the beach all he had to do was mention it. Show the slightest
bit of a hard-on and boys and men were instantly available to take care of it,
any ol' which way he liked. He became lazy, and quickly got used to the VIP
treatment.

John got to know the five or six men on the island who did the cooking. Yes,
they had crude stone ovens set up, and the people on the main island grew a
grain and ground it into a kind of flour. But the secret, they said, was the
special lard they used as shortening. It came from a special kind of animal on
the island - they were becoming rare, so John shouldn't expect to see one. They
raised these animals on the main island, he was told. This lard was the secret
to all their cooking - its flavors were incredible.

On his second month's anniversary his village wanted to have a feast honoring
him. Preparations went on for days, and on the day of the feast he was in great
preparations that lasted the entire day. He was bathed in fragrant waters, his
hair was braided, he was rubbed all over with lotions that made his skin soft.
Half "tanked up" as usual, he enjoyed all these ministrations, and realized,
after he was dressed in a specially made skirt, that his belly hung out and
over the top of the skirt. "Oh well," he thought, "middle age comes to some
faster than to others."

The feast was quite a party. Some women from the main island came over to
serve, so it was a very gay affair with all the island's men enjoying
themselves. John, really getting into the swing of things, decided that he and
the twins would make a great entrance, with their hard cocks sticking out of
their skirts. Just at sunset they walked into the clearing, where all the other
men were assembled, raging hard-on's preceding them, and they were a sensation.
The evening consisted of food and drink and music and sex. They danced, they
ate, they drank. Couples fucked when and where they felt like it, but generally
in full view of the rest of the party. John tasted practically every cock
there, at least for a "social kiss" if not more. The roast pig was delicious,
and it seemed that someone was always putting a piece of the cracklins in his
mouth. He kept trying to remind himself during the day that he wanted to see
where they were raising all these pigs, especially as they tasted completely
different from pork at home. It was certainly salt-cured, and cooked to remove
most of the salt, but it still had a flavor that was quite different from any
pork he had ever had. It was better. "Oh well," he thought, "I'll try to
remember to look tomorrow."

At one point, after everyone had eaten their fill, John joined a group-fuck
that was going on near the table, and the entire party joined in. He found
himself the center of over twenty hot sexy men, all anxious to please him.
Pipes with the smoking weed were constantly passed to him, or if it wasn't a
pipe it was a glass of the local wine, or a piece of pig-fat or a big hard
cock. He pretty much lost himself in the sensual sea of men who surrounded him.

He "came to" full consciousness when he realized he was being carried by the
crowd. They put him in the scale on the platform and added stones to the net...
the men counted with mounting excitement each stone as it was put in the net.
Twelve... thirteen... fourteen... fifteen! A great cheer went up and John was
taken from the scale, with many hands trying to shove food in his mouth. He ate
what he could, and found the sensation of being force-fed exciting.

The twins were now ordering the others. The put John down on the platform and
tied his arms and legs down. Someone blindfolded him. And all he remembers
after that are vague memories of sensations that lasted for hours. Hands
everywhere, feeling his new softness, pulling it, rubbing it around his belly.
Food or a pipe or a hot hard cock was constantly at his mouth. The hands never
stopped. He became acutely aware of the feeling of the liquid-like soft layer
of fat that now covered his belly and sides.

His cock was constantly worked by a mouth or an asshole. Every so often his
blindfold would be removed and he would be facing one of the hard, beautifully
muscled bodies that surrounded him. He strained to touch the hard pectorals or
lats that hovered just inches above him, even as his head swam in the new
sensations of the hands working over his new little layer of fat. Then his
mouth would be stuffed with pig-fat, almost enough to choke him, just as
another mouth went down on his raging cock, and the hands jiggled his bellyfat.
He came and came and came and the night wore on.
The next day he awoke with about five men in his bed. There had been others,
but some were already up and out. John was lying on his side and was
immediately aware of two things: the weight and feeling of his pot gut that
stuck out in front of him and rested on the bed, and the feeling of the boy's
head that was nestled in its softness. He got up and went outside to pee, very
aware of the feeling of that gut hanging out and down in front of him. Its
weight felt good, somehow. He thought back to the night before and remembered
how hot it had felt to give himself over to the crowd, who kept stuffing food
and cocks into him, and stuffing his cock into themselves. He remembered being
weighed, and calculated out what fifteen stones meant... "Holy Shit! Somewhere
between 175 and 180!" He had put on at least 30 pounds! "Oh well, I guess you
have to try everything once," he thought, and went back into his hut.

The others were rousing themselves, and each-other. As he entered the hut he
was engulfed by men who slowly, sensually, felt him all over, but especially
his new soft belly, the softness covering his thighs, his cheeks. A pipe was
passed, and the morning sex started. After an hour or so, several of the
younger boys appeared with trays of food and drink. Everyone ate, except John,
who wasn't allowed to eat. Instead, he was fed. One of the twins sat up in the
bed, and insisted John sit in front of him, resting against him. Then he and
his twin kept his mouth full with food and smoke. The others were massaging him
all over, or fucking each other, and the scene in broad daylight was intense.
Finally, one young man, the tallest on the island, named Huhua, lowered himself
on John's cock, facing him. Huhua was tall, especially for an islander, and had
broad shoulders and a tiny waist and large, muscular thighs. He would be
classified as a body-builder anywhere. John luxuriated in the feeling of his
cock entering the tight, hot asshole, and was positively glassy-eyed with lust
for this beautiful, muscular man, who now pumped effortlessly up and down on
his cock. His muscles rippled under his dark skin as they locked eyes.

"That's it, Head-Man. I am yours. We are all yours. You want my muscles. They
are yours. Your want our cocks, they are yours. Your want our assholes, they
are yours. We belong to you. But you must become great and big, because you are
our Head-Man." He slapped John's belly, hard, with both hands, and grabbed two
handfuls of belly fat, shaking it roughly. "This is what you must do," he said,
looking at the fat he held in his hands, "because you are a Head Man and you
must be big and great and fat and huge and let us make you fatter and bigger so
we can stay lean and muscular and work for you and pleasure you!" Huhua was now
pumping up and down furiously and jerking himself off. Greasy warm food was
constantly at his mouth, and John was eating all he could, letting the overflow
spill all over him. Huhua came all over John's soft belly, and immediately four
heads descended on the belly, licking up the cum and licking and kissing and
feeling the soft belly fat. The sensation of those heads buried in his gut made
John cum violently, deep into Huhua's hot ass, even as more food was pressed
into his mouth and his eyes were locked on Huhua's. John cried out as he came,
and even then food was pressed into his mouth, which he greedily gulped down.
Huhua slowly lifted himself off John's still-hard cock, dripping with sweat
from the exertion.

John kept their gaze locked. "Go back down. Pump your muscle-bound ass on my
cock until I come again. You want to be my muscles? Work for it." He said this
with his mouth full, as every bite the twins put near his mouth he greedily
gulped down. "The rest of you... either work over my belly or fuck each other
hard! I want to see all those muscles!" And he closed his eyes, losing himself
in the feelings of the fucking and eating and growing fat.

After their morning sex, the men all went down to the beach to try out an
invention of John's. Amazingly for South Pacific islanders, they were not
sailors. So when John directed the fabrication of lanteen rigs for the
outrigger canoes, using sails they cut down from the Swan everyone was amazed
at the resulting contraptions. Today they were to go for their first sail.
After a brief swim to rinse off, all twenty-odd pushed off. They all caught the
knack of it pretty soon, and the flotilla of five big outriggers headed for a
small island for a swim and picnic. And of course more sex. They spent the day
like the carefree boys they were, playing about in boats and water and with
each other. During the day John watched each man carefully, to see what his
inclinations and strengths and interests were. He had decided to actually
become the Head Man, and run this island of hot sexy men. After all, they were
begging him to. In the afternoon they used the speed of the sail-equipped
canoes to set a larger fish-net than they ever had before, and hauled in
thousands of fish. John ordered most of the catch to be sent over to the main
island, as a gift of respect to the village chief. The party returned a couple
hours later with the meat of four pigs, saying the chief was greatly pleased
and amazed and sent his best wishes to the new Head Man. He also offered to
keep John's village supplied in pork if John's men would continue to supply the
big island with such fish-catches.

That night they feasted on pig again, and John began to organize his little
troupe. He gave assignments and responsibilities to each man, after first
recounting what each had done during the day to help the group. He built up
each man sincerely, and each one smiled and flushed, unaccustomed to public
attention. "We are," he said, "one hot island of beautiful men. I will be your
Head Man, and I will grow big for you -" a cheer erupted from the group, "- and
we will be happy and hot and sexy.

"Nahuni," he said to the twins on either side of him, "it is your job to make
sure everyone on this island feels they can see me when they want.

"Huhua, it shall be your job to keep the boats in good repair. Get whatever
helpers you need. It shall also be your job," he said, with a smirk, "to make
your muscles harder and bigger, so you can please your fat Head Man well."
Hoots and whistles around the table.

He told the cooking group to organize themselves as they liked, and tell him
what they needed to keep turning out this delicious food. "And," he continued,
"someday I want to see where you raise all these pigs." The men mumbled
something in reply that John couldn't quite pick up - after all, his language
skills were still far from perfect.

"Every man here shall have sex with any other man who so desires, at any time
and any place. If any two men wish to form a couple, committing mind and body
to each other, they shall do so by announcing the fact at the evening meal. And
any couple that wishes to dissolve shall do so by similar announcement.

"Any man with a problem or complaint will make it public at the start of our
evening meal, and all men shall give each other complete respect, no matter how
unreasonable the request or complaint. We will solve our problems and each of
us will bend as needed, and absorb little slights without feeling abused. We
are brothers. That is important.

"My job will be to grow great and huge and soft and fat. I will not refuse food
from anyone at any time if it is humanly possible to swallow it." Cheers and
whistles. "I will also not ever refuse any of your cocks and assholes." More
cheers. "You shall all work to be hard and muscled so you can enjoy each
other's hard, lean bodies as well as my own fat one. Now, let's celebrate!" And
they ate and drank, and later fucked the night away again.

The next month was a happy one for John's little island. Each man and boy could
take on jobs and responsibilities if he liked, or just pursue perfecting his
body and sex with the others. At the next new moon celebration, John weighed
well over seventeen stones, which put him in the 190's. His belly was now large
and perfectly round and very soft, and he loved the feeling of the belly fat
riding up and down as he walked. His tits started to grow, and the spare tire
around his waist was exquisitely soft.

At the following new moon, he was not quite twenty stone, which was a
disappointment. Still, he was over 200 pounds, and had pronounced soft tits
that everyone on the island loved to work over. He went with the others
fishing, although they would not let him work at anything. In fact, they
discouraged him from any exercise at all, preferring to carry him everywhere.
By this time he was eating constantly, and ingesting an enormous quantity of
food each day.

The next new moon was the fifth month, and everyone was anxious that he be
close to his minimum weight. Surprisingly, as John became fatter, he became
more and more greedy for food and more fat. For this celebration, he had the
twins tie him down on the platform next to the scale, and he vowed to eat
everything each man put in his mouth. He was blindfolded and had his ears
covered, so he could not tell with accuracy the passing of time. All he knew is
that as he ate and ate and ate, the harder it became to eat any more the more
he wanted it. He declared himself done, and wanted a rest before the public
celebration. His blindfold was removed, and he was amazed to see it was evening
already. He had been eating non-stop practically all-day! But after a short
sex-romp with a few men, he was ready for the party, and actually ate more
during the feast. That night he weighed 22 stone, which meant he was within a
pound of two of next month's minimum.

But now with the pressure off, he wanted it more than ever. He loved feeling
the inches-thick encasement of blubber that covered him everywhere. He stopped
all exercise, except sex. The men and boys on the island had all worked hard to
make life better for themselves, and in doing so had built up their bodies to a
rich, muscular, lean, gorgeous tone. Yet they were all drawn to John's growing
fat body, loving to feel lost in its softness, and all feeling they "owned" him
at least partly.

At the six-month celebration, John weighed 25 stones, which put him at over 275
pounds! His men pounced on him, roaring with laughter and delight. They grabbed
huge handfuls of his blubbery skin and stretched and shook and slapped and
kneaded it and fucked it, savoring the feeling of its jiggly softness. From his
shoulders to his knees he had a layer of fat at least four inches thick.

He announced that he would double his weight again in nine months, whereupon
the men tied him down to the platform and force-fed him practically an entire
roasted piglet, while they fucked and sucked each other. Then they gave him an
extended "pink belly", slapping his soft blubbery skin all over until he
literally squealed and writhed in pain/ecstasy with the slightest touch. The
men removed John's restraints and sat him up, while tying the twins down to the
platform, side by side on their bellies, with their cocks sticking through
holes in the platform, designed for just that purpose..

John then started fucking one of them, while the others worked over and slapped
and pulled the fat on his sides and ass. He fucked first one, then the other
twin, putting all his weight into each stroke, and practically engulfing each
boy as he slammed into him, his fat ricocheting wildly. Men not working over
his fat took turns presenting their cocks to John's mouth as he fucked the
twins. Others were under the platform, sucking each others' and the twins'
cocks. After a long time, he worked up to a brutal climax, slamming his 275
pounds into the 125-pound twin with complete abandon.

He immediately transferred to the other twin, and concentrating fiercely, built
back up to another violent orgasm with the added stimulus of a huge dildo
someone had started fucking him with. On cumming for the second time the men
removed the twins, who were completely spent, and began taking turns fucking
and feeding their Head Man. Each man would enter John's ass with his cock just
as he put some food in his mouth, saying something like, "My cock is yours, and
this food which I put in your mouth and will become part of your growing fat
body, is mine." Each man fucked him for a couple of minutes, and then pulled
out, to be quickly replaced by the next. The men having pulled out immediately
coupled with each other, all fucking each other in John's sight.

Finally, Huhua came last. Men rolled John over and lifted his legs, so he could
enjoy the sight as well as the feeling of Huhua's harder-than-ever muscular
body. His mouth was kept completely stuffed with food as Huhua, standing by the
edge of the platform, entered John's tender asshole with his huge uncut cock.
Pipes and drink continued to be circulated as the men gathered around the pair
to enjoy the final fucking of the day. Huhua began to slowly work his big uncut
cock in and out, sending John's swollen blubber into gentle motion. Then
without warning Huhua would give one hard slapping stroke and stop, so all,
especially John himself, could enjoy the wild motion of his fat over his body.
Huhua began to fuck his Head Man more intensely, and grabbed John's bellyfat
with both hands roughly to hold on.

John was almost delirious. He was almost choking from the food that was being
forcibly stuffed into his mouth. He swallowed what he could, even though he had
long ago passed the point of being completely full. He felt his thick layer of
fat moving, with greater and greater force up and down his body. He could feel
the fat of his big tits moving up and down over his chest. He could feel
Huhua's big dick inside him, and with each stroke, as Huhua's hard body slapped
against his fat cheeks, could feel shock-ripples travel through his blubber. He
began to orgasm again as Huhua fucked him faster and harder, but the orgasm
lasted and lasted and lasted, sending his body into uncontrollable writhing and
spasms, and Huhua came deep inside him, as he pounded his hard muscles
violently into the yielding fat.

During that time the group got hotter and hotter. And spent more and more time
feeding their Head Man. Every evening meal became a feeding-and-fucking feast.
John slowly got into more and more extreme pig-scenes, where his men would fill
a trough with pounds and pounds of food and he would spend hours gorging
himself on it, piggy-style on all fours while the men took turns fucking his
widening fat ass.

After a couple of months John was blowing up at an incredible rate. And the
faster he put it on, the hotter and more prolonged the group sex scenes became.
By the ninth month, John weighed 51 stones, which was over 560 pounds! His huge
belly hung down covering another belly that had the softest skin and fat
imaginable. Fucking him was getting difficult, even for the best-hung, so
Huhua, being the carpenter of the group, made up dildos for his Head Man and
his brothers. John's favorite was a huge one with about a twenty-inch long
cock, about two inches in diameter, with a very large flange at its base, and a
long pole past that which acted as a holder. With this, John could feel twelves
inches of cock up his ass, and with one strong man "fucking" him with it real
hard, feel the large flange spank his wide fat ass, sending shock ripples up
and down his blubbery sides.

He now had a permanent hard-on. His cock, so big and proud, was completely lost
in the folds of blubber. On the rare occasions he walked anywhere, his bellies
and enormous soft thighs engulfed his dick, so the act of walking always
doubled as a jerk-off session. Each breast was larger than any man's head.
Three men could lie on his belly, side by side, and fuck his fat with their
dicks pointing into him, penetrating his soft fat which surrounded them with
its liquid softness.

On the one-year anniversary of his arrival, he awoke to find all the men in his
hut. The twins were already sitting up next to him. One of them spoke, "Master,
today is the greatest day in our memory. We ask you to join us for a morning
celebration we have been preparing long for." John sat up, or rather pulled
himself semi-upright, and leaned his huge frame against the headboard. One of
the cooks passed him a glass, which he drank from - a new spiked punch. John
smiled and said, "Let's go!" He knew the sooner they got started the sooner he
would be able to stuff food into his growing, and increasingly greedy belly.

They helped John to the door of the hut - he couldn't walk much at all now, and
helped him onto the hand-carried platform they used to transport him about the
island. Then down the hill to the scale. John was surprised. "I weighed just
the other day! How come again so soon?"

Huhua answered, "This is a very special ceremony to mark your anniversary as
our leader, and we want to know just how great you have become." He fondled
some of the thick blubber on John's side, continuing, with a sexy smile, "We
also want to know just how much you will gain during your second year."

They weighed him. As expected, he was just shy of 700 pounds. A pipe was
passed, and they laid him down on the platform. John was ready for an all-day
stuffing and group-fuck. He was tied down and blindfolded. The men started
fondling his blubbery body with one hand each, as they jerked themselves off
with the other. John's mouth was open, waiting for the onslaught of food he
expected to start any time. He could feel the men getting hotter and hotter as
they approached orgasm. "This is a new way to start," he thought. A thick,
short dildo was forced into his mouth and held in place. He could feel the men
approaching their climax.

And they came. Over twenty hot muscular men came all over John's bloated body
at once. And Huhua slit John's throat with a knife.

An outrigger canoe left the beach, headed for the north end of the reef. On it
the twins lazily played with each others' cocks, until they reached the small,
solar-powered radio transmitter. Unlocking it from its mount, they brought it
on board and started on the long run around to the southwest end of Woman
Island, where it would reside, again, for probably a few months. They looked
forward to the feast they would join in when they returned to Man Island -
their first meal in a year that wasn't salt-cured!

This story is part of White_Shadow's_Nasty_Stories.
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