Message in a Bottle

 

The yacht "Parsifal" was churning through the waters of the Pacific Ocean when one of the passengers saw a glint of sunlight off glass among the swells. When the boat changed course and came close to the site, the crew and passengers saw that the glint had come from a large bottle floating in the water. Using a net on a pole, one of the crewmen retrieved the bottle and took it to the yacht's captain. There was a rolled-up sheaf of paper inside the bottle, so the captain smashed the bottle, unrolled the papers, and read the message written on them:

My name is not important: all that you need to know in order to understand the horror of what befell me and my companions is the fact that I am a young man and that I am the inflated plastic prisoner, the blow-up slave-doll, of one of the natives on the island of Pi'oa. I was captured and enslaved with the other passengers and the crew of the yacht "Sea Witch", twenty people in all.

We were caught in a storm and shipwrecked on the island. Our yacht was simply driven onto the beach. When the storm passed and we went out to check the damage, we were approached by a number of the island's natives.

They seemed friendly and they invited us to take up residence in their village until we could repair and refloat the yacht. We accepted the invitation gladly and soon took up residence in a building with a magnificent view out over the ocean.

That evening we all attended a luau that the natives put on for us. The food was good and it included a sweet drink that we all downed readily. None of us noticed that the natives did not partake of this delightful beverage. Soon we had all cast off our clothes and stood naked while some of the natives examined us.

Two members of our group, a man and his wife, were fat. They were taken away that night and we didn't see them again. The rest of us were ordered to eat as much as we could and then we were taken, still naked, back to our dormitory.

Over the next few weeks I noticed that we were all getting fatter. We were eating too much because the natives insisted on it. We could not resist their suggestions because every evening they gave us more of the sweet beverage and demanded that we drink it; thus, they kept us docile and submissive.

I noticed that as each member of our group got to be sufficiently plump to satisfy our hosts he or she would disappear, but under the influence of the drug they were giving us I didn't care. I should have been terrified by the fact that the people who tested us for fatness wore plastic kitchen aprons. Finally only I was left.

And then my turn came. All of my body hair and my facial hair had fallen out and I had grown plump and round. My captors took me to the village's communal house, into the bathroom, and cleaned me up. I still had enough mental acuity to notice how strange it was that it was only after I had been dried off that they put a shower cap on me. It was a beret-style cap made of transparent-white plastic with a white rubber headband, the kind commonly used by women.

A woman, completely naked except for her plastic apron, put the shower cap on me. As she prepared me for what was to come, her belly and breasts pressed warm plastic against my body: my penis responded by coming fully erect. The woman noticed my response and encouraged it: she brought me almost to the point of climax and then made a quick hand sign. Something then touched the left side of my neck about an inch below and behind my ear. I felt a hard jolt as if something had exploded inside me and heard a loud thump. My mind cleared and I turned to complain about my mistreatment and saw the tribe's shaman putting away a purple-glowing glass rod.

I didn't get far with my movement. The tribe's chief grabbed me and picked me up. He lifted me easily and gave me a sharp pat on the belly with both hands, as if he were using me as a volleyball. I bounced off his hands as lightly and as briskly as a beach ball. I quickly understood that I had been turned into an inflated plastic balloon-doll!

When my captors finished tossing me about the woman who had put the shower cap on me handed me a transparent-blue plastic raincoat with a bonnet-style hood and commanded me to put it on. Helpless to resist, I obeyed the command and gained a weird sense of pleasure from feeling the skin-smooth, lightweight plastic growing warm and soft against my body. Next the woman bound me with shackles that looked like they were made of plastic apron ties.

As my captors prepared me, I suddenly came to the conclusion that this island or something on it is the center of some aetherial vortex that enables the shaman to work real magic. It's even possible that she summoned the storm that drove our boat to this island and up onto the beach. This island is a trap, one designed to provide the natives with completely helpless slave-dolls.

The man we had identified as the tribe's chief looked me over. "He's ready," the man said. "Put him on the auction block!"

The woman who had given me the shower cap pushed me toward the door and down a hall to the auction room. My progress was slow because the shackles that bound my ankles were so short that I could only shuffle my feet. Worse, my jutting penis rubbed against the raincoat and I had to struggle not let the sensation stimulate me to have an orgasm. I felt like a condemned prisoner being led to his execution. Then we came to the place where my fate was to be sealed.

It seemed like the entire tribe had come to witness my final humiliation. I saw in the audience two of the men that had been in our group. Instead of a woman's shower cap, each of them wore the transparent-black plastic version of a baker's cap, apparently taken from the man's own plastic raincoat, as the catalyst for his transformation. Each man also wore his own raincoat. I wondered then why I had not been made to wear my own transparent-gray plastic raincoat: I found out much too soon.

The auction itself was a farce: the outcome had been planned beforehand. It was merely a performance to humiliate me in front of the tribe. The auctioneer put me up on the block and I had to stand there and listen to the natives bidding for me as the auctioneer pointed out my various features. He especially pointed out my erect penis and noted that it indicated how much I enjoyed being a plastic prisoner of the tribe. After a few minutes of what seemed like spirited bidding, the auctioneer declared that I had been sold.

I then discovered that I had been bought by a plump young man who took possession of me from the auctioneer and escorted me out of the communal house. Carrying my folded-up transparent-gray plastic raincoat, he led me to his bungalow, walking slowly so that I, doing the shackle shuffle, could keep up with him.

The transparent-blue plastic of the raincoat I was wearing, warmed by the sun, swished softly as I walked. The softened plastic rubbed against my erect penis and I felt especially self-conscious: there I was, out where everyone could see me, wearing nothing except a girl's shower cap and a transparent raincoat and displaying an intense sexual arousal, apparently enjoying my enslavement. If I had not been a plastic doll, I would have been blushing in embarrassment.

After what seemed like an hour, though it was actually a few minutes, we came to my captor's bungalow. He picked me up to lift me up the steps and set me down on the porch. He opened the door and gave me a gentle shove to get me to move into the little house that would be my prison forever. Reluctantly I entered the main room and sensed him coming in behind me.

"Now you're my plastic prisoner," he gloated as he locked the door behind him. "My fat, blow-up slave-doll!" He then pushed me gently to his bedroom and there he made me his plastic blow-up sissy; specifically, he made me pregnant.

I had a suspicion that I was doomed to be a sex toy when we came into the bedroom and I saw the big double bed waiting for us. He confirmed the suspicion by telling me to stand by the bed. I had no choice but to obey, so I went to stand by the bed and trembled inside.

"Now I'm going to test you," he said, "to see how good you will be as my slave." He knelt before me and removed my shackles, peeling apart the magnetic patches that held the soft plastic strips closed. "How well will you serve your master?" he said as he stood up, holding the shackles in his right hand. He tossed the shackles aside as I stood submissively by the bed. Then he began to test me as a sex toy.

He had his hands on my shoulders as he looked me over. He arched his back slightly so that his pudgy belly pressed against mine and made the plastic of my new raincoat especially warm. The sensation filled me with a strange quivery feeling. With my head bowed I watched him remove his sarong and toss it aside. I felt as if my heart was beating wildly when I saw his penis lengthen and then rise as it stiffened.

"Oh, I want to lay on you and hold your big, fat body," he said as he picked me up and laid me face down on the bed. "I want to make you feel how much I love you."

Given what he wanted to do to me, I thought it was odd that he made me wear my new raincoat when he put me down on his bed. He slid the skirt of the raincoat above my waist and then he laid himself down on the bed next to me. As the bed shifted under his weight I turned my head to face to my right, away from him.

Then he mounted me. I felt him slide his legs between mine and then felt his rubbery-stiff penis poke between my buttocks. I seemed to feel it swell up even more as it touched me. I expected to feel pain, but when he penetrated me I felt only a gentle pressure in my anus and rectum. His belly and chest came down, soft and warm, on my back and he wrapped his left arm around my chest and put his right hand on my belly. He put his left cheek on my right cheek and I could hear his breathing becoming heavier.

"Oh, you're so comfortable to lay on," he said as he began to thrust his hips to and fro, pushing his penis deep into me, pulling it partway out, and then shoving it in again. He started slowly and as he moved he made my penis rub against the plastic of my raincoat. Soon I was climaxing long and hard as he played with me.

Then he came to his own climax. His thrusts became shorter and more rapid and then he held his breath. I felt something hot blossom inside me in hard spurts as he had his climax and squirted his semen into me.

"There," he gloated breathlessly, "now you're pregnant. Now you have a copy of your sexy raincoat inside you and every time I squirt into you it will get a little bigger and you will get a little fatter. In a couple of months we'll have a new raincoat."

A few minutes later, having rested from his exertion, he pulled his penis out of me and got up off the bed. I noticed that his penis came out dry, as if my body had absorbed all the fluid that he had squirted into me, and I was glad that there would be no mess to clean up. But he wasn't through playing with me.

He told me to get up off the bed and go stand in front of the inflated blue-plastic armchair that sat in a corner of the room. As I obeyed, he went to his kitchenette and then came back carrying a hollowed-out coconut shell and sat down in the chair. As he settled himself in the chair he told me to come closer and then turn my back to him.

He was sipping a drink that he called Insta-Jizz from the hollowed-out coconut. I had to stand in front of him with my back turned toward him so that he could arouse himself by staring at my butt through the plastic of my raincoat. I stood with my hands crossed over my crotch and slowly rubbed the raincoat's plastic over my penis, enhancing my arousal without actually coming to climax.

Too soon he got up out of the chair and gently nudged me toward the bed again. Knowing what was coming, I lifted the skirt of my raincoat above my hips and crawled onto the bed. As soon as I lay myself down he got on top of me, penetrated me, and started pumping on me again. After bringing us both to a hot, throbbing climax he rested on me and repeated the cycle several more times.

After getting up when he finished porking me for the day, he gave me a pair of rubber sandals and a big, fat plastic kitchen apron. The sandals, I was told, would give me just enough strength to carry out my chores and would prevent me from being blown away by the wind when I went outside. The apron was made of transparent-white plastic on which yellow, pink, and pale-blue polka dots had been printed.

At his prompting I put the apron on. I slipped the yoke over my head and let it rest on the back of my neck. The bib spread across my chest and belly and the ties were long enough to go completely around my waist and overlap themselves in front of me by several inches: I tied them behind my back in a big, sloppy bow. The skirt, with its two-inch-wide ruffle, wrapped more than halfway around my waist and hung to my ankles. It made me look like a clown and, my master told me, I was obliged to wear it whenever I went outside our bungalow.

That night I took off my apron and raincoat and got into bed naked, as he wanted. Then he got into bed and I felt him, soft, smooth, and warm, pressing against me. Again he got on top of me and played with me until he had satisfied himself. After he rolled off of me and went to sleep I pulled my apron under the covers and masturbated with it.

A week after I had become his personal slave-doll, I was caught playing with my master's transparent-black plastic raincoat. He had gone away for the day and I knew that I would be alone in the house, so I took off my apron and raincoat and then, standing naked, I went to the closet and took his raincoat off its thickly padded hanger. I put the raincoat on and luxuriated in the sensations of my master's personal plastic caressing my naked body. It was as if my master were hugging and kissing me and I felt myself getting hot. I sat down in the inflated chair and masturbated over a fantasy of my master making me pregnant with a copy of his raincoat. I was busily transforming my helplessness into the submissiveness of a wife.

I was so wrapped up in my ecstasy that I failed to notice the sound of the front door opening and closing. A moment later my master came into the bedroom and saw what I was doing.

He didn't seem angry; more like delighted in a villainous sort of way. "Ah, yes," he gloated, "now you get to discover how we discipline a blow-up slave-doll." He demanded that I take off his raincoat and lay it on the bed with its hood resting on his pillow.

I could see that he was going to humiliate me in front of his raincoat. Yes, I understand that the raincoat is an inanimate object, but in making love to it I had engaged the pathetic fallacy, which lies inherent in our souls: in my mind the raincoat had feelings and intentions, just like a person, so it could feel humiliation as I dominated it with my sexual desire. As I had dominated the raincoat, my master was going to assert dominance over me, diminishing me for the raincoat's pleasure. If I had not been an inflated plastic doll, I would have been blushing deep red with embarrassment.

Trembling inside, I obeyed his command. Then he took the apron-tie belt from my raincoat and tied it to my wrists so that my hands were about a foot and a half apart. He set me at the foot of the bed facing his raincoat and took off his sarong. With his hands on my waist he bent me over the bed.

"Bow to my raincoat," he taunted.

Then he jabbed his rubbery-rigid penis into me. Again I felt the gentle pressure of being penetrated. He pumped his hips to and fro, pulling his penis partway out of me and then shoving it back in. Soon I felt heat blossoming inside me in hard spurts and then he stopped moving. Finished with his climax, he stood up straight. As light as a beach ball and still impaled on my master's still-erect penis, I came off the floor. With his hand on my belly to hold me in place, he backed away from the bed. He waddled to his chair, sat down, and, with me sitting on his lap feeling his penis wilt inside me, began sipping Insta-Jizz from a hollowed-out coconut. Soon I felt his penis swelling up inside me and I wanted desperately to play with myself.

That was my punishment. He took his pleasure with me while denying me similar pleasure. He was using me as nothing more than a masturbating toy. With his hands again gripping my waist, he pumped me up and down on his lap until he climaxed into me again. After resting for a few minutes he stood up and pulled his penis out of me. Then he untied my hands and turned me around to face him.

"There," he said, "that's a small example of how we punish slave-dolls."

I fell to my knees, wrapped my arms around his legs, and kissed his belly. I wanted so much to be able to speak, to tell him that I was playing with his raincoat because I had fallen deeply in love with him. Using the stationery that I found (and which I'm using to write this account) I wrote him love notes telling him of my desire. I think I was slightly amazed that he didn't share them with anybody. But I got a lot more hugging and kissing. I began to feel more like a wife than a slave. Yes, I am still his toy, but I am a beloved toy.

After several weeks of being fattened up in bed I looked like I had swallowed a basketball. I had to lean backward to balance myself as I waddled about doing my master's bidding. I had grown so fat that my raincoat didn't close over my belly, so I was somewhat glad that I was wearing my apron over my raincoat.

Now, apparently, all of the other male prisoners are pregnant. Unfortunately, they all blame me and I've been their punching bag more than a few times. They seem not to understand the nature of slavery, even though they're getting a rather stiff lesson in the fundamental feature of the institution. (D'uh, he made a pun - PC).

I gave birth to my new raincoat two days ago. It felt like I had to defecate. I knew right away what it was, so I spread my apron out on the bed and laid myself down on it just in case my new raincoat came out wet (though it turned out that it didn't). I lay on my left side and let it come. At the same time I got especially hot, so I masturbated while the raincoat slid slowly out of my ass. The hood came out first and then the rest of the raincoat followed, taking maybe half an hour.

I came to half a dozen hard climaxes in that time. When it was over I felt a strange emptiness inside me and an intense desire to get pregnant again. I came to understand that I had fallen in love with my master and admitted to myself that I actually enjoyed going to bed with him: the trembling that I had felt at bedtime must have been that of sexual anticipation rather than that of anxiety.

When my master returned home I showed him my new raincoat and let him know that I wanted to get pregnant again. Completely mute, I could only make a motion of running my hands over a bulging belly and then make the sign of begging. To emphasize my desperate desire, I knelt before him and kissed the front of his sarong. In response he lifted me up and then hugged and kissed me. He whispered in my ear that he would certainly impregnate me again: all he had to do was to decide what to use for a catalyst. I hoped and prayed that it would be his raincoat.

It was purely a matter of luck that I found the bottle in which I will put these papers. I intend to seal the bottle and then, when I do my master's laundry, drop in into the creek that runs by the village. I can only hope and pray that the creek's flow and the ebb tide take the bottle out to sea and that someone finds it in time to end the horror of this island.

They don't have enough slave-dolls for everybody. They want more. So warn the world: Do not come to this island! Not even to attempt to rescue us! And don't worry about us: as beloved toys we are treated reasonably well by our owners.

Tonight is going to be special. My master is going to use his raincoat to make me pregnant. And this time he's going to allow me to climax onto his plastic, to spend the entire night playing with his raincoat if I want. To be honest, I can't wait to be his hot blow-up bride. I quiver with eager anticipation of how he will play with me in our bed.

 

The message ended there. Suitably horrified, the passengers and crew left the cabin to go out on deck. Some of them needed the fresh air to deal with their queasiness. Then they noticed the storm clouds forming and rising on the horizon.

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This story was inspired in part by an incident near the beginning of the story of Sinbad's Fourth Voyage as reported by Sheherazade in the Arabian Nights. Following a shipwreck Sinbad says that

"Next morning, as soon as the sun was up, we walked from the shore and, advancing into the island, saw some houses, which we approached. As soon as we drew near, we were surrounded by a great number of negroes, who seized us, shared us among them, and took us to their respective habitations.

I and five of my companions were taken to one place; here our captors made us sit down and gave us a certain herb, which, they indicated by signs, we should eat. My comrades, not taking notice that the blacks ate none of it themselves, thought only of satisfying their hunger and ate with gluttony. But I, suspecting some trick, would not so much as taste it, which happened well for me; for in a little time afterward I perceived that my companions had lost their senses, that when they spoke to me they didn't know what they were saying.

The negroes fed us afterwards with rice, prepared with the oil of coconuts, and my comrades, because they had lost their reason, ate it greedily. I also ate it, but very sparingly. They had given us that herb at first on purpose, to deprive us of our senses, that we might not be aware of the sad destiny they had prepared for us: they supplied us with rice to fatten us up; for, being cannibals, their design was to eat us as soon as we grew fat. This plan happened accordingly, for they devoured my comrades, who were not sensible of their condition; but my senses being entirely intact, you may easily guess that instead of growing fat, as the others did, I grew leaner every day. The fear of death under which I labored turned all my food into poison. I fell into a languishing distemper, which kept me safe; for the negroes, having killed and eaten my companions, seeing me to be withered, lean, and sick, deferred my death.

Meanwhile I had much liberty, so that scarcely any notice was taken of what I did. This gave me an opportunity one day to get some distance from the houses and to make my escape. An old man, who saw me and suspected my design, called to me as loud as he could to return; but instead of obeying him, I redoubled my speed and quickly got out of sight."

Yes, fattening prisoners to make a meal of them makes sense, but it also makes them rounder and suitable to become inflatable toys. What both cases have in common is the helplessness of the prisoner. That helplessness is similar to the submissiveness of the female during the sex act and, thus, can take on a sexual appeal of its own. By removing the imagery of pain and destruction we can transform the basis for sadomasochism into a basis for a tale of bondage and discipline.

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If you want to see raincoats that look very much like the ones that I envision in this story, go to www.funplastic.de, click on Rainwear, click on Ladies Raincoats, and then click on style PA3C.

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27.03.12