By - email@example.com
published April 14, 2019
A group of men win a trip to a resort island, but it’s deserted, and they learn they are to be the new fantasy staff.
Authors Notes: Years ago, I read a straight version of this with women who were transformed into various fantasies to staff an island resort. I don’t remember the original author, and it was likely over a decade ago that I read it, so I’m not even sure where it was. Regardless, credit for the idea goes to that person. I also don’t know how this might play out nor if you’ll like it … so let me know in the comments if it’s worth going further. My intent is to focus on the transformations, both physical and mental, without constraints by reality (duh). I can’t really write sex, and there may not be any (there certainly isn’t in this first part). To get to that point, I have no qualms with being up-front about the cheesy plot devices common to this genre.
And FYI, the reasons I stopped developing my frat boy game night story were (a) a lot of people on this site are doing game-driven transformations and had more time to write, and (b) I was getting somewhat bored with trying to keep track of the different transformations and it was getting harder to come up with quiz questions. This story doesn’t have that issue.
Part 1: The Obligatory Setting and Initial Plot Devices, In Which Everyone Acts Weird to Get to the Main Events
As the plane began its descent into the greater resort island area, some of the passengers who were awake looked out their windows to see a great blue expanse of water with a small island in the distance. As the island grew in size, keen-eyed observers could note the single, large, white building that looked like an expansive mansion with numerous subsections built off the main edifice. On the sandy beaches were smaller huts, and the green tropical foliage rose to fill in the gaps after a comfortable margin from the shore. A dock area and small airstrip were the only other visible features.
The trip was a short one from the nearest large city, but it had to be made on the small plane simply due to the size of the island not allowing larger aircraft. This group of 21 passengers was one of two who were arriving at roughly the same time, and as the island’s features were resolved from its vantage point, a yacht could be seen docking, carrying another two dozen men.
These 45 individuals were all told they had been winners in a sweepstakes competition, though none exactly remembered which one or having signed up. Regardless, of the 50 who had been notified, these 45 had claimed their winnings: An all-expenses paid trip to a tropical island paradise for three full weeks of fun and relaxation. At least, that’s what they were told by the hackneyed and unimportant plot device.
The plane gracefully landed, waking up those who could sleep through the hour flight, and after a rather significant depressurization of the cabin, the door was opened and a set of stairs appeared. The men filed off the plane, and when the last was down the steps, the door was abruptly shut, all luggage was dumped on the tarmac, and the plane took off with no warning.
The shocked men looked around, not quite knowing what to do, but for lack of anything else since there was no cellular phone signal, they picked up their luggage and made their way towards the resort, just a short distance away.
They arrived at the entrance at almost exactly the same time as the other men from the boat, and they all went inside the lobby, annoyed, worried, some scared, but most still trying to figure out how this was all part of their prize.
The lobby itself appeared vast. The doors they had walked through were glass, and in four sets of two. The lobby looked to be the size of a basketball court as they entered down the center line, and roughly three stories tall with two marble spiral staircases on either side. Tropical flowers adorned the living walls and a mahogany reception desk sat towards the back with a single, unstaffed station. The floor upon which they walked appeared to be polished grey granite with sparkling quartz crystals speckled throughout, and a massive chandelier hung from the ceiling to illuminate the area.
As the men in front were taking in the opulence, as the last entered through the doors, a rather loud click echoed throughout the hall, indicating the doors had been locked. With fear and uncertainty levels finally kicking in among even the most passive men present, speakers from above and behind them crackled. They turned around and looked above the doors to see a large screen flickering to life. Two extremely attractive people appeared, obviously green-screened, against an aerial view of the island.
The first to speak was a bombshell big-boobed blonde in a sequined red dress: “Welcome, and congratulations winners! We’re so glad you all could make it to the island for three.full.weeks.of.fun!!” She emphasized the last several words by throwing up her hands and bouncing her breasts. Notably, most of the men were visibly starting to relax.
The woman’s companion, a young looking man dressed in a pure white three-piece suit, spoke next: “Sorry if you guys were a bit worried when we left you at the dock or on the landing strip. But you all got here! Now, you may have noticed that there’s no one here but you. Just you guys. No one else.”
The woman chimed in: “Did any of you read your contracts for this wonderful getaway?”
The two on the screen paused, and looked around, indicating that there were cameras somewhere showing the premises and the two on screen could see their reactions.
The man spoke after about ten seconds of silence, with the guys starting to again show signs of nervousness. “Yeah, didn’t think so. This island is a tropical resort. And you will have free use of all its facilities and everything it has to offer while you’re here. The one catch is that YOU are going to be the new staff!”
The woman, whose smile had never faded, chimed in: “That’s right, guys! We’ve secretly switched your Folgers® Coffee … wait, no, that was so 1990s. Ahem… We’ve laced every clean source of water on this island with tiny little robots that are going to rewrite your bodies and your minds and turn you into our perfect little staff!”
At this point, the man reached at both sides of his suit and pulled, stripping it off, revealing a matching red sequined speedo to his companion’s dress, that adorned a tiny portion his muscled body. “And, in the interest of ‘full’ disclosure, this is intended to be a gay resort, so you are all going to be changed to please our wide variety of paying customers!”
The woman: “So, get drinkin’, guys, ’cause this resort opens in just four short weeks and we need all our staff at 100%!”
With that, the screen went dark, and the room silent.
Part 2: The Resort Manager
Every guy in the lobby was stunned, and general utterances you might expect to be spoken were done so, in spades.
The group of 45 men was not the typical group that you might expect for this type of story, they were instead a group of men that were generally representative of the population of a European mutt population with a healthy mix of ethnicities to keep the modern connoisseur happy: 30 white, 5 dark skinned of African descent, 3 Asian, and another 7 of other skin tones and ethic backgrounds. Similarly, there were a range of ages and body types. While the average range was 30s-40s, there were a few men as old as in their mid-60s, and as young as 18, to keep it legal. Body types varied from twig to fit to fat, and the current sexuality was what most surveys would reveal, about 4 were already gay, 1 bi, and the remaining 40 straight. With the scene established, we return to our captive audience.
The doors out of the hotel lobby and back outside were still locked, and despite throwing heavy, sharp, or other items at them, the doors would neither budge nor appear damaged. No one seemed happy about the situation, and most were still in denial.
Only one appeared to accept the scenario for what it was. Michael was a large man, in stature and musculature, but despite his imposing outward appearance, inside he was quite small. He was used to people telling him what to do. He had grown up in a very rural, poor area of Alabama, and both his family’s inability to help him and overt racism in his town meant that his spirit had been broken before he knew any better. He had managed to get away from it when he was in his 20s, but the scars ran deep. But, it gave him insight into impossible situations that few of his fellows instinctively had: If their situation really was what they had just been told, then he was SOL and might as well get used to what was going to happen. He just had one water bottle from the last airport and there was no way he was going to try to kill himself by not drinking.
So, while everyone around him was arguing and blaming each other for what none of them could control (if only they had read the small print), he looked around and saw a small fountain to the left of the reception desk. It was quiet, but it was made of an almost pure white marble bowl into which water gently tinkled from a carved seashell, which itself was filled by a small bubbling waterfall from above.
Michael walked over to the fountain, and as he did so, one or two of the other men noticed, and got the attention of the others. By the time he got to the fountain, everyone was quiet and watching. He dipped his hands in and cupped some of the water to his mouth.
“Don’t do it!” one of the currently nameless guys yelled to him.
Michael looked back at him with a slight fire in his eyes, angry that yet again someone was trying to tell him what he should or should not do. More resolute now than before, he brought his hands to his lips and drank the water within.
And, nothing happened.
Or, at least it did not appear to happen to the guys still near the doors.
To Michael, time seemed to pause, and if this were a made-for-TV-movie he would have heard a whoosh sound as he appeared inside a white, lit expanse. Materializing in front of him was the woman from the introductory scene, still smiling, but naked. Quizzical, Michael was about to ask what was going on, when the woman brought her finger to her lips in a shush gesture.
“Well, well, well, you’re the first. Someone always has to be first, but maybe that’s the case by definition. Looks like you’re …” she looked him up and down, at which point Michael realized he was also naked, “… straight. So, our plan is that straight guys are going to be punished here, but looking deeper,” (her eyes seemed to bore into his head) "we’re not going to do that to you.
“Instead, you took initiative, when no one else would. We can change a lot of things, but why go through that effort if we don’t have to? Initiative is good, and needed for the role of manager. That’s right, you lucky guy you, you are going to be the manager!”
The woman appeared to walk around him and look him up and down more. “Okay, we really don’t need to change much with you. As we speak, you’re getting the standard ‘Doll’ treatment – you’ll not age anymore, you can’t get sick, injured, blah blah blah. You’re body is really great, we don’t need to change anything there to satisfy our clients, but what we do …”
Mid-sentence, the woman morphed into the image of the man in the speedo, though without his speedo, “… need to do is change your sexuality so that you can be happy in your new role. Happy staff, happy guests. There, how does that feel?”
The man posed with his hands on his hips, and Michael felt a weight on his groin as his penis started to plump. Momentarily confused, Michael again accepted the situation and gave into his new feelings. The man looked pleased, and then took his index finger and pressed it to Michael’s forehead. Michael saw a blinding light and felt the man both engulf and embed himself into Michael’s being, at which point Michael’s awareness returned to his body.
He didn’t feel as though he felt any different from before, but he knew now what he was: The Resort Manager. Confident, and walking tall, he left his luggage in the lobby and walked behind the reception desk. He touched what looked like the blank, empty wall, and a doorway slid open. He stepped inside and was gone.
Author’s post script: As I warned you, my goal was to get the story going and avoid trying to make a ridiculous situation seem like it had a natural origin. I’m willing to call out exposition when needed so we can get to the story. The second “Part” was intended to be a very light and more inward change than anything else to then set the stage for what I want to do later with those who are more resistant to the situation in which they find themselves. It’s probably the lightest one there will be, if this story continues. I was going to write Part 3 (night manager? pool boy? bellhop? front desk agent? medic? gardener?) but it’s late and I wanted to get this posted to see if you guys think it’s worth continuing. And if any of you DO remember the original story and can find it for me so I can give credit, please let me know!! Feedback is an author’s lifeblood, especially when they have a lot of outside work and have to choose what to do with their extremely limited free time, so if you like this, please let me know in the comments.