Well here I am; my new home, Blubber Belly Island. It looks so much bigger up close than I thought it would be. I was just getting off the boat when I noticed that the entry port to immigration-and-customs was packed, while the exit port was all but empty. That exit port seemed suspicious, but what did I know; I was the one being forced to move here by my parents.
The line was short, but most of the other passengers who had been onboard with me were way bigger than even I could have imagined with the smallest furries and scalies being between 380 lbs. to 420 lbs. However, the bigger furries and scalies were between 800 lbs. to 1000 lbs. Boy were these people huge. The passengers I met were of many species, ethnicities, and sizes, but one thing remained the same: they were colossal. Most of the passengers had on too tight shirts and vests that left little to my imagination, while others decided to forgo clothing and let their fat cleavage hang out all loose like the fluffy top of a cupcake with frosting.
Boy was I turned on. Even though I had no idea who these people were or even what gender or sexuality they were, I didn't care. I had learned a lot about myself within the past year of hiding my gains and medications, including being more accepting of different types of sexualities considering how gender meant little to nothing with bodies this bulky and amorphous.
There was little room on the deck to stand and pace around. This was mostly because the ship was cheap, small, and we were given very few commodities, except the essentials. The other reason for the lack of standing room was much more obvious: we were huge and it was difficult to stand around on such a small ship. But I digress.
I had finally arrived on Blubber Belly Island, and the scenery, for what it's worth, was beautiful and exotic. The island was made up of a vast jungle environment with a barren mountain (hopefully not a volcano, but who knows) in the center of the island, and the main areas of commerce and residence were built with sleek and efficient highways and sidewalks that were just the right size for fatties like us. When I looked toward the base of the mountain, I noticed a beautiful looking town that, despite the lack of tourism, seemed to overflowing with its own niche culture and fast paced transit.
Before I could continue to take in the scenery, the boat had officially finished with the docking procedure and allowed us to get off. I grabbed my suitcase of essentials, my passport, ID, smaller versions of my art equipment, some money, and my cell phone. I also had a few other amenities such as toiletries, my game system, a couple of different porn magazines, condoms, and a jumbo-sized bottle of lube. What? I figured if I'm gonna spend the rest of my life here, I might as well try to get laid with the right guy, or girl if you catch my drift.
Back to the matter at hand. I was getting off of the ship and into customs when I noticed my first obstacle in transferring here: the bureaucracy, specifically the lines for government identification and whatnot. The lines were short getting in, at least at first glance, since there weren't a lot of passengers arriving today at this port. The real problem, however, was that every single passenger's process took a lot longer than I thought as each passenger was huge and probably brought a lot more luggage than I had, or had never traveled farther than their hometown before. We were ushered into cramped rooms to take photos for identification, answer a few basic questions, X-rays, metal detectors, pat-downs, the whole shebang. It took nearly 45 minutes of waiting in line and trudging along at a snail's pace before I started my process.
Boy was I hot, tired, sweaty, horny, and hungry, especially hungry. I was horny because there was little to no personal space for me in this line as my belly, butt, legs, feet and hips kept getting frayed and jiggled by every other passenger's body I made contact with. I was hot enough as is; even though I took my vest off and my shirt was breathable, the weather was tropical, yet sublimely dry - or at least not as moist as I though it would be - despite being on an island. The contact was making my FUPA tight as it engorged itself on hormones and blood flow to give me a hard-on, coupled with the heat which exacerbated my fatigue.
I almost didn't realize it was my turn as my stomach was grumbling. I felt like my brain was on autopilot as I took my picture. My snapped out of my trance when I felt hooves at my hips; I almost yelped in confusion.
"Sorry about this Mr. Silvermane. We are just following protocol for this pat-down. Now please refrain from moving your body as we finalize this inspection," a hefty horse anthro explained.
"Right, just get on with it." I don't know what came over me, but while the pat-down was happening, I realized that the hefty horse and bulky bull were taking a little too much pleasure in their pat-down as I was fondled and groped in other newly-formed erogenous zones on my torso and hips, and what I swore must've been my ass cheeks. When that embarrassing experience was over, I was officially done, though part of me felt a little bit unsatisfied as I was directed to my new house.
The island was flattened to a steady incline once you get past the jungles and head towards the beach. And there smack-dab in the middle of town was where my new home was located. I settled in to my spacious new home, when something strange occurred...
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