The Game

Rachel took a breath and prepared herself. She took a final drag of her cigarette before flicking the butt into the garden and then pushing through the door of the squat, shouting before anybody had a chance to stop her.

"Listen! Who do you think you are? Jumping on my graft? Let's have it out here and now!"
Only then did she realise that the intended recipient of her co-ordinated tantrum was not in the room.

"Where's Amy?" she yelled.

"Not seen her for weeks, Rach," replied one of the women in the room and turned her attention back to the crack pipe in her hand.

"You're lying!" shrieked Rachel. She picked up a mug from the coffee table and threw it at the wall. "She has hooked up with one of my punters. That money should be mine. I am not leaving until she gets back here and gives me the money she stole!" Another cup was smashed against the wall, but the noise and shouting attracted the attention of the dealer who was using the squat. He certainly did not want anybody calling the police to investigate the derelict building.

"If you are not here to score, get out," he said and gave Rachel a swift slap with the back of his hand. Shocked by his reaction, Rachel changed tack and began crying, but the dealer saw through the obviously fake tears and shoved her back into the street, slamming the door behind her.

Rachel rubbed her face as she walked away. Her only option was to go back on the beat and find another punter. She turned onto the poorly lit back street where the working girls stood, and then the next thing she knew…. She woke up on the floor of a room she did not recognise. Her head was groggy and sore, but instinct made her try to stand. She noticed immediately that her arms were heavy and looked down to see that each wrist was attached to a long chain which disappeared into the wall beside a chair. Her ankles were also chained in the same way. Rachel screamed and yelled and cried, but nobody answered her noise, and soon she calmed down and began thinking more rationally.

Firstly, she checked her watch. Five hours had passed since she left the squat. Most of that time, she could not account for - obviously, she had been drugged, but apart from her mobile phone, nothing was missing. She even had the few crumpled fivers in her bra, so robbery was not the motive. And given that her clothing was intact, neither was anything physical.

The room looked like a cell from one of those old style westerns: solid concrete walls with a row of iron bars splitting it in half. It was dimly lit by a single bulb, and instead of the fourth wall, there was a pair of heavy velvet curtains, similar to those found in the theatre. Rachel's cell contained a large television, a bed and a table. Although heavy, the chains were long enough to allow her to move freely round the room. On the table was a sleeve of 200 cigarettes, a bag of weed and a large bottle of cider. Rachel looked at them suspiciously, and then noticed a small remote with a sticker on which simply said: Press the green button.

Rachel pointed it at the TV and did as instructed. Immediately, the TV came on and after a few seconds of interference, a figure wearing a strange and grotesque mask came into focus.

"Hello Rachel. I want to play a game. For the last few years you have put your own desire above everything. You have alienated your family, your friends and everybody who tried to help you. Like a toddler, if you did not get your own way, you threw a tantrum. Recently, you claimed that a local business owner had stolen three hundred and fifty pounds from you, and smashed up his shop, demanding that he paid you it. You and I both know that this was a lie for you to get drug money, but as this is so important to you, I intend to give you the three hundred and fifty pounds."

A large grin crossed Rachel's face. The thought of getting her hands on that cash overcame her fear at her current predicament. However, after a short pause, the figure on the TV continued speaking.

"You will notice that you are chained. Any time you disobey or do not behave as expected, this will happen."

From somewhere outside the cell, a mechanical noise started and several links of the chain were pulled into the wall before it stopped again. This did not affect Rachel's mobility, but she could tell that as the chains were shortened enough, she would end up seated on the chair and unable to move. There was no time to think about this as the voice continued.

"Stand on the red tile." Although Rachel's natural temperament made her want to refuse, the thought of the money made her play along. The number 125 flashed up on the screen behind the shadowy figure and he laughed.

"Imagine how you will look when you weigh 475 pounds!" Slowly, Rachel realised that the 350 pounds she was going to receive was not money. She started to shout, but the machinery started and the chains shortened by another few links. With tears in her eyes Rachel sat on the bed quietly.

"That's better. Now you have everything you want. Cigarettes, marijuana and cider. As long as you eat all that you are given, you can spend your time in a drunken, stoned stupor. This is how you like to live your life anyway, so apart from being very well fed, nothing much will change for you."

"I can do that without these chains, you crank!" shouted Rachel at the screen, but she was rewarded with another few links disappearing into the wall. Rachel frowned at the chair and opened the cider, taking a large swig. Then she lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, seemingly accepting her fate. In response, a panel in the wall opened and a large bowl of spaghetti bolognese was slid onto the table, followed by a fourteen slice lemon cake.

"You have sixty minutes to eat this," said the figure and the TV showed interference once again and then suddenly flicked onto normal television. Try as she might, Rachel could not turn it back onto the channel used by her captor, so she ate a little of the pasta and a small piece of the cake. There was no way she was going to get fat.

After an hour, the TV clicked over and the shadowy figure came back into focus.

"Hello Rachel. I see you are not accepting my hospitality. That is a shame." The machinery started up and a few more links disappeared into the wall. Rachel realised that now, she could not go beyond the end of the bed.

"I think you need to be shown what this chair is for."

Rachel heard a different set of machinery start up, and slowly, the theatre curtain began to open, revealing Amy. She was sat on a chair exactly the same as the one in Rachel's cell, but the chains were shortened so she was unable to move. Her hands were pulled by her sides; her feet pulled slightly behind the chair legs. Her head was held in place by a metal ring, which was also fixed to a tube, inserted into her mouth, making it impossible to spit out. Rachel stared in horror at Amy's eyes, red rimmed from crying until she had no more tears, and then looked at her swollen, bloated belly, pumped full of God knows what and never being allowed to empty. Every few minutes another shot of liquid was forced down the tube and Amy swallowed it with a pained expression.

"Amy has been force fed from the first day I captured her, but you have the option of enjoying your captivity. Three hundred and fifty pounds, Rachel. Get fat or be fattened. The choice is yours."