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The Island of Beasts
He wasn't so sure that he should have accepted the modelling job. >From the moment he got off of the boat, the island where the photo shoot was taking place seemed strange - not uninviting, but somehow unnerving. The sky was as blue as azure, the wind full of the salt smell of the ocean, but the thick undergrowth which surrounded the marginal beach was full of noises. How many large animals could a Carribean island support?
Seven men had been picked from various New York agencies. None of them were well known, and for that reason the shoot ws likely to be for some run of the mill catalog catering to would-be fashionmongers in the lonely Midwest. They had talked a lot on the plane, and Jack wasn't sure that he liked any of them. Beautiful and vain. Hard bodies, empty heads.
The sun felt warm and friendly as he walked from the tiny plane (it had made a water landing; there seemed to be only one estate on the whole island). He unbuttoned his shirt and let it caress him like gentle hand. The wind blew his hair across his sunglasses.
A short man with dark skin and nasty teeth emerged from the woods and signalled the pilot to get back in the plane and take off. The pilot obeyed without saying a word. The seven men picked up their baggage and followed the little guide as he led them on a tiny path through the trees. They were on top of the estate that Jack had seen from the sky in just a minute. Twelve foot walls separated it from the surrounding forest. They could smell food cooking inside.
The guide led them into the courtyard, which was sunny and huge. Two skinny dogs lapped water from the fountain in the middle. The few trees that gave shade to the house in the center were full of bright parrots. The sounds they made were almost human, and almost sad. Jack looked at them with amusement. They looked back.
The guide disappeared and a tall man in a white straw hat emerged from the house. He greeted them and told them that no work would be done until the following day, when the photography crew arrived. In the meantime they were to make themselves comfortable, but they weren't to leave the compound. Jack was too tired to ask why.
They were shown to their private bedrooms and encouraged to take naps. "We want you all to look your best tomorrow," the man said. From what Jack could see, it would be hard for this handsome group to look any better. Each room had been provided with a cold pitcher of rum punch with the instruction to drink up; the punch was an island specialty. Jack decided to nap first.
It was already growing dark by the time he woke up. The evening air was full of those strange noises, bird calls that almost seemed like screams. His mouth was dry, so he pured himself some punch. It was still cold. He pored another glass, sweet and tasty.
He was about to start on a third drink when someone knocked loudly on his door. He opened it. in the dim light of the hallway he could make out the sillhouette of Chad Stonebrook, a blond-haired tower of muscle who was supposedly being considered for the Calvin Klein campaign. Chad looked sick. "You don't look too well, buddy," Jack said, letting him in. "Come have a drink." Chad stumbled through the doorway, then fell to the floor. In the light of the room Jack could see that his companion washorribly changed. His feet and hands were gone, replaced by huge and powerful hooves, stallion's hooves. The hairless barrel of his chest was covered in fine black fur. His eyes were huge and dark and full of fear. The little triangle ears that protruded from his long blond hair were twitching. Chad tried to speak, but his teeth and gums were so huge in his mouth that he couldn't form the words.
A tremendous ripping sound resounded. Chad was growing. He tore right through his jeans and his te-shirt, weight and muscle increasing throughout his body like an erection. Jack had to look: yes, even Chad's organ was huge and hairy and in a high state of excitement. It must have been two feet long... Chad was pawing the ground in pain or ecstasy.
Through the door stepped the guide and the man in the straw hat. "I see that you finally drank your punc, Jack," he said cooly, not even looking at Chad. "Good."
Jack began to choke. Suddenly every cell in his body began to flare with sensation. He felt himself start to expand, harden, grow fine hair everywhere. His jeans were way too tight. His ass was ripping them open. He felt the long hair of a horse's tail there. He could move it if he tried.
"What have you done to me?" he asked, his voice starting to disappear as his lips grew larger and his jaw elongated.
The man in the straw hat smiled. "There are no animals on this island. I use a biotransformative drug to populate it with the finest specimens. Each of you has been transformed into something different. Loius - you remember him, the one with the gorogeous cascades of dark hair - Lois has become a very friendly cocker spaniel. Your friend Chad is in the process of becoming a very fine stallion." He reached over and stroked Jack's mane. "And you, my friend, are going to provide him with a strong breeding mare."
The Island of Beasts copyright 1996 by unknown.
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