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Archive-name: Changes/islbeast.txt


Archive-title: 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."



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