He wasn't so sure that he should have accepted the modeling 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 Caribbean island support?
Seven men had been picked from various New York agencies. None of
them were well known, and for that reason the shoot was 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 signaled 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 poured 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 silhouette of Chad Stone brook, 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
was horribly 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 t-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 gorgeous 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."
--
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