Island - part 6-11 (Patreon)

“What the hell is going on?” Stephen muttered under his breath, his grip tightening on the remote.

Meanwhile, Lawrence stirred, still half-asleep, feeling a strange sensation all over his body. His chest felt heavy, his clothes constricting painfully. His eyes fluttered open, and he blinked in confusion, groggy from sleep.

“Ugh… what’s… happening?” Lawrence mumbled, sitting up slowly, feeling something touch and lightly tickle his neck. He winced as he felt a sharp tearing sensation across his chest. “Ouch! What the-?”

He looked down and gasped, his eyes widening in horror as he saw the changes for himself. His polo shirt, once loose and comfortable, was now stretched taut over a pair of large, round breasts. The fabric strained, tearing slightly under the pressure, revealing smooth, pale skin of his new heavy breasts beneath.

“What the… what the hell is this?!” Lawrence shouted, his voice higher and softer than before. He scrambled to his feet, nearly stumbling as he felt the unfamiliar weight on his chest and the new sway of his hips. His hands flew to his chest, feeling the soft curves, his fingers trembling. “This-this can’t be real!”

Stephen watched, eyes wide with a mix of shock and dark curiosity, as Lawrence’s panic mounted. 'Incredible,' he thought, unable to tear his eyes away. 'This remote can actually change someone’s body entirely.'

Lawrence’s breathing quickened, his hands frantically exploring his new form, trying to understand what had happened. He touched his face, his long fingers running over the soft contours of his cheeks and the full lips that felt so foreign. “No, no, no! This isn't possible! What's going on? Is this a dream?" He gasped, gripping his torn shirt, his fingers digging into the soft skin beneath. "Get me out of this dream! Wake up! Please!" Lawrence shook his head furiously, feeling how long hair tickled the back of his neck.

Stephen took a step forward, holding up his hands in a mock gesture of calm. “Hey, just… just relax, alright? It’s not as bad as it seems.” His voice was smooth, almost patronizing, as if he were talking to a child who didn’t understand the world.

“Not as bad as it seems?” Lawrence snapped, his new voice still startling to his own ears. “Are you insane?! I’m… I’m damn fucking turned into a girl!" He glared at Stephen face, then at the remote in Stephen's hand. His eyes widened, a spark of realization flashing behind the rage and panic. “You did this, didn’t you? That… that remote! It did this!”

Stephen smirked, unable to hide his amusement at Lawrence’s outburst. “Yeah, it was the remote. Pretty neat, huh? Turns out it's not just some junk, after all."

“This isn’t funny, Stephen!” Lawrence screamed in his shrill feminine voice, his panic mounting. “Change me back! Right now! I swear to God, if you don’t—”

"Or what?” Stephen interrupted, taking a step forward. "You gonna sic your daddy's lawyers on me? Call your high-priced security guards and have them kick my ass for ruining your little fun vacation here?" he laughed “Besides, you look better this way.” He looked at Lawrence with a smirk, his gaze roaming up and down.

"Better? Better?!? Are you out of your damn mind?! This isn't better! I'm a guy! I'm supposed to be a guy!" Lawrence tried to grab the remote out of Stephen's hand, but the larger man easily held it out of reach.

"Relax. Deep breaths. Damn, you’re exactly the girl I’ve always dreamed of, Lawrence" He let the name 'Lawrence' linger on his tongue, then shook his head as if dismissing it. "No, you're not Lawrence anymore. You're... hmmm... I think Lacey sounds like a great name for a girl like you." He paused, his grin growing wider. "What do you think? Feminine and sweet. Perfect for someone like you."

Lacey’s eyes widened with horror. "Lacey? No, no, no! My name is Lawrence! I don't want some girl name!" She stumbled backward, nearly tripping over her own feet as she tried to put some distance between herself and Stephen. "This is insane! Change me back, right now!"

Stephen ignored her demands, his expression hardening. "I don’t think you’re in a position to make any demands, Lacey. You need me to survive here. I can provide food, water, shelter. Without me, you wouldn’t last a day."

Lacey's lips curled into a sneer. "Do you know who I am, Stephen?" she hissed. "I'm Lawrence Abbott, one of the wealthiest men on the planet. Do you really think I need you for survival? I don't need you!" she spat angrily, her long blonde hair whipping around as she turned her back to him, her new curves swaying slightly as she walked away.

Stephen chuckled darkly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Suit yourself, sweetheart. But remember, this isn’t some vacation resort. This is survival. When you’re starving and thirsty, you’ll come crawling back. We'll see how well you do without my help."

'I'll show him,' she thought, teeth gritted as she marched toward the dense jungle. 'I don't need his help. I don't need anyone's help!'

As Lacey pushed through the thick foliage, her frustration only grew. She stumbled over roots, her once-strong legs now feeling weak and uncoordinated in her new form. The branches scratched at her exposed skin, her torn clothes hanging awkwardly off her new, smaller frame. Her large breasts bounced painfully with every step, the weight of them pulling her forward. She tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the task at hand: finding food and water. 'I can't believe this,' she thought, tears of frustration pricking at the corners of her eyes. 'I can't believe this is happening to me!'

Lacey's new body felt unfamiliar and awkward as she stormed off down the beach. She was acutely aware of the way her hips swayed more than they ever had before, the weight of her breasts shifting uncomfortably with each step. 'God, this is humiliating,' she thought, gritting her teeth. 'When we get home, Stephen's fired. And not only that, I'll ruin his life. I'll destroy him!'

She walked for what felt like hours, the sun beating down on her bare shoulders, the heat oppressive and unrelenting. The thin fabric of her torn polo barely offered any cover, and she felt every breeze against her sensitive skin, making her shiver. 'Damn, my favorit Gucci polo', she thought, looking down at the remnants of her clothes. The once-fine fabric was ripped and torn, barely contained her new curves. Her shorts, of which there was almost nothing left, were now far too tight, digging into her hips painfully. 'Great. Just great. As if this couldn’t get any worse.'

Lacey stumbled over a rock, nearly falling, and cursed under her breath. 'Focus, Lawrence. Damn it, I need to find water.' she glanced around the jungle, she tried to remember everything she had ever learned about survival. 'What was that show called? The one where the guy drinks his own piss? God, please don’t let it come to that.' She glanced around, hoping to spot some sign of water or fruit, anything to sustain her. But the jungle was vast, and it all looked the same.

Hours passed, and the sun began to set, casting long shadows through the trees. Lacey's stomach growled loudly, and her throat was dry from thirst. She had found nothing—no water, no food, nothing to make her situation any more bearable. Her feet ached from the uneven terrain, and her new body felt strange and foreign with every movement.

She tripped over a branch again and barely managed to keep her balance, grabbing the nearest branch. A light moan escaped her lips and she grabbed her heavy tits "Damn! Fucking things!" Her heart pounded harder as she looked around. 'God, I’m such an idiot,' she thought, hugging herself as a cold breeze swept through the trees. 'I don’t even know where I am anymore. This was a stupid idea.' She hung her head low, her eyes filled with tears.

'I'm never going to survive out here on my own. I should have stayed with Stephen.' The thought filled her with a mix of rage and desperation. She didn't want to need him. She didn't want to be dependent on anyone, especially not him. But as the sun dipped below the horizon and darkness began to settle in, Lacey found herself truly alone for the first time.

The oppressive stillness of the jungle surrounded her, every rustle and distant cry of an animal amplifying her fear. 'What am I doing out here?' she thought, hugging herself tighter. Her new breasts pressed against her forearms, a constant reminder of them, her nipples hardening from the chill. She shivered, not just from the cold, but from the realization of her helplessness. She'd never felt such fear or powerlessness before.

She couldn't walk anymore and it was obvious, her whole body needed rest. She sat right there and sighed loudly. 'This is ridiculous,' she thought, blinking back tears. 'I'm Lawrence Abbott. I shouldn't be stuck on some godforsaken island, starving and lost. I should be at home, in my penthouse, or on a yacht, sipping champagne... I shouldn't be here and I especially shouldn't look like some kind of stupid bitch!' Her stomach growled loudly, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten in hours. She looked around the clearing, spotting a few edible-looking plants. She wasn’t sure, but they were her only hope of survival.

'Food,' she thought, scrambling over to them. She picked them eagerly, stuffing her mouth with the unfamiliar green leaves. But as she chewed, she felt a sharp, bitter taste. Her face contorted in disgust, and she spat them out, coughing violently. 'God, what even are these?' she thought, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. 'Stupid island food. All disgusting!'

Lacey tried to ignore the growing dread in her chest, but it was impossible. She curled up on the ground, pulling her knees to her chest. The night was cold, and the thin remnants of her polo offered little warmth. She wrapped her arms around herself tighter, feeling the softness of her new body press against her limbs. 'I'm not supposed to be like this,' she thought, tears rolling down her cheeks. 'I'm supposed to be a man, not... not this.'

She sobbed quietly, unable to hold back the flood of emotions. 'This is awful. I hate this island. I hate Stephen. I wish I could just go home.' She sniffled, resting her forehead against a nearby tree, trying to take comfort in the rough bark against her skin. 'I miss home. I miss my bed. I miss my maid service, and my chef, and my cars, and...and...' She closed her eyes tightly, tears streaming freely now. 'I shouldn't have left... Stephen was right. I can't do this on my own... I need him. Damn it, I hate that I need him...'.

Lacey tried to sleep, but every rustle and snap of a twig made her jump. Her heart raced in her chest, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching her from the shadows. 'Please, God,' she thought, closing her eyes tightly. 'Just let me get through this night.'

When morning finally came, Lacey was exhausted. She hadn’t slept at all, too scared to close her eyes for more than a few minutes at a time. Her body ached from lying on the hard ground, and her stomach was a twisted knot of hunger and nausea. She sat up slowly, wincing as her muscles protested. 'I can't do this,' she thought miserably. 'I can't survive out here on my own. I need help. I need... Stephen.'

As the sun began to rise, she heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Panic surged through her, her heart racing as she looked up, expecting to see some wild animal. Instead, she saw Stephen emerging from the jungle.

"Lawrence!" he called out, his voice carrying over the rustle of leaves. "Where have you been all night? I've scoured almost this entire damn island looking for you!" he sighed, running a hand over his face. "Do you have any idea how worried I've been about-".

But his words died in his throat as she, to her own surprise, found herself running toward him, her legs moving before her mind could catch up. She wanted to scream at him, to throw things at him, to tell him how much she hated him. But instead, she threw herself into his arms, hugging him tightly.

Stephen stumbled back a step, surprised by the sudden embrace. He felt Lacey's soft breasts press against his chest, their fullness and warmth startling him. Her slender arms wrapped around his back, and he could feel her body trembling against him. 'God, she's so... delicate now'. For a moment, he felt a pang of guilt, but it was quickly overshadowed by a rush of satisfaction. 'She needs me' he thought, holding her close. "It's ok now, Lacey," he murmured. "I've got you."

Lacey clung to Stephen, her face buried against his chest, feeling a strange mix of relief and shame. She could feel the strong, steady beat of his heart against her cheek. 'God,' she thought, 'why am I doing this? Why am I holding onto him like this?'.

Abruptly, she pulled away, her face flushing with embarrassment. She took a step back, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. "Don't get any ideas," she snapped, her voice trembling. "I don't need you. I was just... just..."

"Just what, Lacey?" Stephen asked, his tone mocking as he raised an eyebrow. "Just scared? Just hungry? Just realizing you can't make it out here on your own?"

"Shut up," she muttered, her cheeks burning with humiliation. "I just... I don't know what I was thinking, okay? It doesn't matter."

Stephen sighed, rolling his eyes. "Let's not rehash this conversation again, Lacey." He glanced down at her tattered clothes, noting the way the torn fabric almost nothing covered her new curves. "And it looks like you’re gonna need to find something else to wear. Those clothes aren’t doing you any favors."