Fantasy Island and all associated characters are owned by Spelling-Goldberg Productions, Columbia Pictures Television, Sony Pictures Home Entertainment. Copyright infringement is not intended.

Graphic created by Patricia Marie Allen from pictures found on Pixabay.com

Smiles Everyone. Smiles!

A short story by Rosemary

Special thanks to Malady for his help editing.

Brad Tyler.

He had just turned eleven years old, and he hadn’t gotten much in the way of presents for his birthday. In fact, all he had gotten was a twenty-five dollar check from both sets of grandparents.

His dad, Bill, was being laid off from his job as a groundskeeper from the local hospital, so his parents weren’t able to get him anything really. He understood, and was grateful for the fifty dollars he’d received.

When he arrived home from purchasing a candy bar, his mom, Jeanna, was watching TV. Probably a daytime soap. She watched All My Children religiously. He was hurrying down to his room when he heard a commercial come on. He walked back upstairs to the living room of their split level home. He watched the commercial, wishing once again he had the money to afford what was advertised.

He had always felt that he wasn’t a boy, but a girl. He had tried to tell his parents about his problem, but they didn’t seem to understand.

What the ad offered would be incredible. It was a trip to an island, where your fantasy could be made to come true for a weekend. The island was a self-contained nation, only interacting with other nations by advertisement, somewhere in the Pacific Ocean. He’d looked for it on a globe once, but couldn’t find it. He’d even looked it up on Wikipedia, and while it showed up, its exact location was a mystery.

The owner, Mr. Roarke, was never seen on the commercials. No one seemed to know what he looked like, or where he came from, but this time, Brad was in for a surprise. Mr. Roarke showed his face on this ad, and it seemed that he was staring right at Brad as he said the most amazing thing.

“For one person, I am offering that their fantasy will be fulfilled for whatever they can afford. I, personally, will cover the rest of the cost.”

Brad had heard enough. He hurried down to his room and started writing a letter.

-=#=-

It had been two months since Brad had sent his letter to Mr. Roarke, and he hadn’t heard back. He suspected that $47.75 just wasn’t enough to warrant having his fantasy fulfilled.

In the meantime, Mr. Tyler had received an offer of a job elsewhere, with a salary double that of his previous job. He was elated! The layoff had paid off!

In a week, some professional movers arrived. Within three hours, everything from the home was packed and into a Mayflower truck. Five hours after that, the family was on the way from the Kansas City airport to LAX (Los Angeles International).

Brad sat by the window looking out at the landscape below. He was frustrated. He’d hoped that if they ever moved, he would be able to become Brenda at their new home, but that wasn’t to be, apparently.

At LAX, the family transferred to a corporate jet, and took off. Now, all Brad had to look at was water below. He understood they were travelling to Hawaii, a place where none of them had been. It sounded like fun, but not nearly as much fun as if he could wear a two-piece swimsuit.

When the flight ended, the three were met by a man who couldn’t even be four feet tall. He was holding a sign as far above his head as he could, that read ‘William Tyler’.

They walked over to him and after introductions, where the little person said his name was Tattoo, they made their way to a limousine that took them to another part of Pearl City. There, they boarded a Grummon floatplane, and took off.

“Where are we going?” Bill asked the little man.

“The Boss doesn’t want me to disclose the actual location, but I can describe it.”

“Why can’t you tell us where we’re going,” Jeanna asked. “It doesn’t sound on the up and up if we aren’t to know where we’re going.”

“Oh, you’ve heard of the place, I can assure you. The best way I can describe it, is ‘Paradise.’”

Nothing more was said, and they flew on. Bill wondered where the money for his salary would come from. Was it legal? More importantly, was it moral? He knew that the place was a small, self-governed nation all to itself. Whatever business he would be working for might be legal there, but perhaps not elsewhere.

Finally, out of the starboard windows, they saw an island. Tattoo was right. It looked like paradise. They flew by a magnificent waterfall that went straight into the ocean in beautiful twin cascades. There were gorgeous palm trees all over, and were it not for the fact he knew this was an independent island, Bill would have thought it was one of the Hawaiian Islands.

The plane set down in a small lagoon, and coasted up to a dock. Only the four and the pilot were onboard, so as soon as the plane stopped and was tied to the dock, they exited.

Several women hurried up and placed a lei around each of their necks, and they walked up to a very dignified man with graying hair in a white tuxedo.

Another woman came up to them with a tray of drinks. Curiously, each was the favorite of the person who received it.

Tattoo hurried over to the side of the tall, dignified man.

The moment Brad saw the man, his mouth had dropped open in surprise. The gray haired man held up his own glass and said, “I am Mr. Roarke, your host. Welcome to Fantasy Island!”

-=#=-

The three entered one of the curious red vehicles that seemed to be the major source of transportation, and were driven to a bungalow not far from the main house, where Mr. Roarke lived. They had each brought a carryon and a suitcase, and they found them in their rooms, already unpacked. Their clothes were hung, and in drawers.

Jeanna found that the kitchen was strangely, stocked with their favorite foods, and that they had a person who would cook and clean each day for them. The only meal they needed to fix for themselves, was breakfast.

Mr. Roarke arrived after they had a chance to look at the bungalow, and the grounds. Bill found that the grounds were beautifully maintained, and he wondered why his own help was needed.

Mr. Roarke explained. “Mr. Lund, my groundskeeper, is retiring, after working here for over seventy years. He will ‘show you the ropes’ for two weeks, and then he will have his retirement party and officially end his duties here.”

“Seventy years. He must be in his nineties,” Bill commented.

Mr. Roarke smiled broadly. “One hundred, actually. Or he will turn that age on the day of his retirement.”

“And he’s still doing grounds keeping?” Jeanna was astonished.

“He enjoys it very much, Mrs. Tyler. I have offered him, many times, his retirement, but he has refused. He did not want to turn the grounds here over to just anyone, but when I showed him your husband’s resume, he agreed that he would be turning his hobby over to the best person he could.”

Bill was shaking his head. “There must be some mistake, Mr. Roarke. I’d love the job. This island is truly paradise, but… Well, the fact is, I never sent you a resume.”

“Oh, I assure you, Mr. Tyler. There is no mistake. Your resume arrived via Federal Express, from Independence Missouri, two weeks ago. I apologize for taking a bit of time to contact you, but, I'm sure you will understand; I had to check your references.”

“But I never sent a resume,” Bill insisted.

“Really? Isn’t that curious.” Mr. Roarke said, enigmatically.

-=#=-

The next day, Brad was looking around the 'town square' of the island. Strangely, there weren't any tourist shops or anything like that. As a matter of fact, there weren't any shops at all.

Oh, there was a restaurant, and a burger joint, but when he went in to get a pop, the man served up just what he wanted without even asking. Then, when Brad asked how much, the man looked strangely at him. "No charge," he said.

A little later, he wanted an ice cream cone, and spied a place to get one. They had exactly the flavor he was wanting, and again, it was no charge.

He was beginning to wonder what was going on, when he saw Mr. Roarke and Tattoo walking down the street.

Me. Roarke said something, and Tattoo hurried into the ice cream shop.

"Brad!" Me. Roarke said as if he was greeting a long lost friend.

"Hello, Sir," the youngster responded.

"You are probably wondering why I didn't answer your letter."

"I figured you had more important things to tend to," Brad said with a shrug.

"More important than the well being of an eleven-year-old girl," the distinguished man said gravely. "I think not."

Brad started to nod, then what Mr. Roarke said hit him. “You called me a girl!”

“So I did. Brenda. You wanted a fantasy where you are Brenda for two days. I will give you the opportunity to be Brenda for two weeks.”

He watched as the child’s face showed, wonder, then joy, then fear.

“You are afraid?” Mr. Roarke observed.

“I don’t know how my parents will let me dress up as a girl for two weeks. I’m not even sure they would have allowed it for a weekend.” He sighed heavily.

“You misunderstand. You will not dress as Brenda for two weeks. You will be Brenda for two weeks. Here, on Fantasy Island, your dreams become real. Whether that be for the good or for the bad. And, once a fantasy begins, it must run to its inevitable conclusion. There is no turning back.”

He stood up straight and spoke in more clipped words. “You have a choice. You can have what you’ve always wanted for two weeks, or you may choose not to. Your choice will not affect your father’s position here on the island. That is secure as he is the best person for the job. The best in the world, from what I’ve been able to ascertain, and not very much escapes me.”

“If you should choose not to take your fantasy, that is your choice. I do not judge the choices a person makes. Understand, however, that your fantasy is what you make of it.” He took on that look that was hard to distinguish. “Whether good or bad.”

“You said I’ll be Brenda for two weeks?”

“Yes. You will actually be your feminine self.”

“What will my parents say?”

“Oh, I doubt they’ll say anything about it.”

“Won’t they notice that I’m a girl?”

“Most assuredly. It will be impossible to miss.”

“I don’t get it. They’ve never given me a chance to be Brenda. My dad doesn’t think his job depends on it, does he?” Brad asked, suddenly suspicious.

“Your Father doesn’t know anything about your fantasy.”

“Then how will they allow it?”

Again, Mr. Roarke took on the grave countenance. “What is reality, and what is fantasy sometimes coincide. That is a decision you have to make.”

Brad seemed to come to a decision. “What do I have to do?” he asked.

Mr. Roarke smiled kindly. “Enter your bungalow through the back door. That will begin your fantasy.”

“What? Just go in through the back door?”

“That is all.”

“All right. I just thought there would be a makeover or something.”

“As I said, you will be Brenda. Not just look like Brenda.”

Brad nodded, as Mr. Roarke held out his hand. “For now, I say goodbye to a boy. The next time we meet, I expect you shall be a girl.”

Brad watched as the man in the white tuxedo met his diminutive assistant coming out of the ice cream shop. Tattoo handed him a cone as white as his tux, and they headed off the way they’d come.

-=#=-

Brad stood in the back of the bungalow. He could hear his mom and dad talking inside, and he was frightened. As much as Mr. Roarke said his parents wouldn’t say a word about it, how could he guarantee that? He didn’t control someone’s mind. Did he? And how could he say that Brad would spend two weeks as Brenda. Being Brenda? It didn’t make sense.

He turned and started to walk around the house, but then he stopped. What if Mr. Roarke was right? What if his parents didn’t mention it? Could he turn down the opportunity to be herself, if only for two weeks?

He walked back to the lanai and listened again. His dad was talking about what he and Mr. Roarke had discussed. He sounded pleased, but he wasn’t really listening to the words.

Brad took a deep breath, and stepped into the bungalow.

“Hi, Brenda!” her mom called when she saw her enter.

“Hi, Bren!” her dad called. “What have you been doing?”

Brenda looked down at her body. She felt her hair brush her neck, and could see it on each side of her face as she looked down at a pink t-shirt, white shorts and white running shoes.

She looked back at her parents who seemed to see nothing out of the ordinary, except their daughter not answering.

“You okay?” Bill asked. “You’re usually bubbling over with talk,” he said as he grinned at her. Now you’re speechless?”

“It’s quite the place,” Brenda said, in wonder.

“Yeah, it is. You know, Mr. Roarke says there’s very little reason for money here. Everything is provided for us. There’s a nominal fee, but whatever we need is provided. It’s only the extras that we have to pay for.”

“What’s the catch?” asked Brenda.

“Honestly, I don’t think there is one,” Bill told her. He shook his head in wonder. “It seems as though everything is on the up and up.”

-=#=-

Brenda lay in bed that night, wondering what was going on. She had been a boy outside the bungalow, and then she was a girl when she walked inside.

She had checked. She was actually a girl!

Her parents had not seemed to have noticed anything out of the ordinary. They accepted her as if it was perfectly normal that they have a daughter than a son.

She was very confused. How long she lay unable to sleep was anyone’s guess, but she decided she liked the situation.

-=#=-

In the morning, she made her way to a playground not far from the bungalow. There were several kids playing there, and she wondered where they’d come from. She hadn’t seen them the day before.

She was enjoying some time on a swing when she saw a girl about her age sitting on a park bench at the edge of the playground. She stopped the swing, and got off. She observed the girl for a little while, as surreptitiously as she could. She saw that the girl appeared normal enough, but didn’t seem to have any friends to play with. There were lots of kids around, but the girl was just watching and making no move to join them.

Brenda walked over and sat down beside the girl. She looked at Brenda and gave a shy smile, but didn’t say anything. They watched the kids playing for a bit, then Brenda broke the silence.

“I’m Brenda. What’s your name?”

“Julie,” came the response.

“Do you live here?” Brenda wondered.

“No, I’m just visiting. My dad is… a very important individual, and we’re here on… business.”

Julie had dark hair, and what Brenda would consider to be an exotic look. She also spoke with a light, but definite accent. She was obviously not American. She seemed to search for words at times, so it was doubtful that English was her first language.

“So where are you from?” Brenda wondered.

“I’m from Spain,” Julie told her.

“Julie is a funny name for a Spanish person,” Brenda observed, then put her hand over her mouth, hoping she hadn’t offended the dark haired girl beside her.

Julie giggled. “You are American, correct?”

“Yes,” Brenda said, red faced.

“Julie is, how do you say… The Americanized version of my name, Julia.” She pronounced it more like Hu-lya than the movie star, Mz. Roberts, did her name.

“Well, I’m pleased to meet you, Julie,” Brenda said, glad that Julie didn’t take offense at her faux pas.

“Likewise, Brenda,” Julie said. They smiled at each other, pleased with their new friendship.

-=#=-

Over the next few days, the girls met and played together, sometimes in the playground, and sometimes exploring. Brenda was surprised to find that the palm trees were mainly around the shores of the island, which was obviously of volcanic origin. As one got higher into the hills, the palms gave way to other types of trees, including the occasional evergreens.

It was on one of these ventures up into the hills, that they sat down on a ledge that gave them an excellent view of the Pacific. “How long are you here for?” Brenda asked.

“Just a few more days. Then, I have to go back to my father’s… business.”

Brenda had noticed the hesitation many times in the last few days. Everytime Julie spoke of her father’s business, it was always with hesitation, as if she really wanted to call it something else.

“Don’t you like your dad’s business?” Brenda asked.

“Please don’t misunderstand me, Brenda. I like his business. It has provided everything I have ever needed, for my entire life. It is just not what one would generally consider a business, I suppose.”

“What’s he do?” Brenda asked, extremely curious.

Jule sighed. “I’d rather not say right now.” She lay back on the grass and let the warm sunshine caress her face. “I just want to enjoy my time here, with a very special friend.”

Brenda also lay back and closed her eyes. She could see the beauty of just leaning back and enjoying the wonder of being a girl.

On their way down from the ledge, Brenda asked, “Are you going to be at Mr. Lund’s retirement party?”

“I’ve heard of it, but I don’t think my father will allow me to go.”

“Why?” Brenda was shocked.

Julie made a face. “Even though I’m only twelve, he wants me to get my childhood behind me and become an adult.”

“What’s childish about going to someone’s retirement party?”

“My father considers many people to be beneath our family. I do not, but he has been raised to view others like that.”

“What’s the difference in your upbringing?” Brenda asked, scrunching up her face, trying to understand.

“My mother. She doesn’t approve of my father’s views on social status.” She shook her head. “They love each other very much, which is sometimes not the way with people of their importance, but they don’t view everything the same.”

-=#=-

The next day, Julie informed her that she was not allowed to go to Mr. Lund’s party as she came out of the villa that they were using. Brenda was furious. It was in three more days, and it would be the last time that they would see each other. She wanted to spend it with her friend, and make it something special for Julie before they both left.

She stormed past Julie and into the study where Julie’s father sat, a couple of aides pointing to documents on the desk.

“You! You selfish pig! You think your family is superior to everyone else! But you can’t even take the time to see what your daughter wants. I’d hate to be at your high status!”

She turned and stomped out. She and Julie linked arms, and were starting to run down the path to the gate, when a voice called from behind them. “Julia!” It wasn’t her father, but an aide. “You are to return to the villa.” He stayed facing Brenda as Julie slowly made her way up the path. “She won’t be seeing you again, Miss Tyler.” Then, he turned and stormed back into the villa.

-=#=-

Brenda was very unhappy the last three days of her two weeks. She didn’t want to attend Mr. Lund’s party, but for her father, she did. She had to admit, it was interesting. There were many children there, and each obviously knew and respected the old man.

Near the end of the party, she noticed that Mr. Roarke had sat down on the perimeter of the party. Their eyes locked for a moment, and she knew he wanted to speak to her.

Brenda slowly made her way over. He looked deeply into her eyes. “And so comes the end of your fantasy,” he said as she sat down beside him. “You’re crying.”

She sniffled and nodded. “I don’t want it to end.”

“With all that has happened, you don’t want to escape this?”

“Mr. Roarke, I’ve felt more alive in these last two weeks than I ever have before.” She stopped to try and gather her thoughts. “I don’t like the events of the last few days, but at least I’ve been me. Not some boy who shouldn’t exist.”

“But you’ve been a boy your entire life,” the distinguished gentleman observed.

She shook her head and fingered her party dress. “No. I’ve been this girl all the time. I’ve just been too scared to show it.”

“See the retirement gift I give to my employees when they have done an incredible job, as Mr. Lund has. He is about to receive it.”

As they watched, the ancient, bent man walked between two tiki torches, and over to a rose bush. He gently touched a bloom, and it seemed as though he was standing straighter. We walked a few more feet, and bent down to smell an orange lily. His features broke into a huge grin at the fragrance, and when he stood up, his hair was darker than it had been. He continued walking toward a far set of torches, and as he did, his age seemed to melt away, until he seemed to be eighty years younger than he had just a few minutes before.

“When people retire, I give them their dearest fantasy to live out for the rest of their lives.” He smiled and waved to his old friend, who was waving to him. “Mr. Lund has just started his.”

“What is it?”

“Everyone’s fantasy is their own, Brenda.”

She watched as Mr. Lund disappeared from view as his dearest fantasy started. She looked down at herself. “This is my dearest fantasy, Mr. Roarke.”

“Are you sure it’s your fantasy?” he asked, looking at her penetratingly. “You said that you’ve been Brenda all along, but were too scared to show it.”

She nodded, and a tear escaped her eye.

He continued. “I will tell you something that I never speak about, but I feel may help you come to an understanding of yourself.”

She looked up at him curiously.

“Many, many years ago, I was full of pride, and followed someone I shouldn’t have. As full of pride as I was, he was ten times; no, a hundred times more so. But we never took into account what we knew. We could never have what we so desperately wanted.”

“So I can’t have this?” Brenda asked.

“That is not what I’m saying at all. We wanted power for ourselves. We had no intention of helping others.” He pointed at her, “You have displayed a willingness to risk yourself to help your friends. Mephistophiles had no friends, nor did I. We didn’t know what to do with friends.”

He smiled at her, the most genuine smile she’d ever seen. “I hope you consider me a friend, as I consider you one.”

She looked at him in astonishment, wondering where he was leading with this, but shocked that he considered her a friend.

“Julie is actually Prince Jules. You have no doubt heard of him.”

She gasped. She had! And she had become her, or his, or… She was confused.

“It made no difference to you who her father was. You knew he had power, but not how much. You simply wanted him to realize what a wonderful daughter he has. You put yourself at risk for a friend.”

She just stared.

“I can see in you that had you known who Julie is, you still would have made the same choice. It may have taken more deliberation on your part, but it would have happened.”

Brenda nodded slowly.

He laughed, something he rarely did. “I said everyone’s fantasy is their own, but I’m now going to tell you what Julie’s fantasy was. She wanted her father to know her. Just as you wanted your parents to know you.” He took on his aristocratic air. “Putting you two in each other’s fantasies was an obvious choice. You have been employed as a part of each other’s fantasy. Now, you retire.”

“No!” She said with vehemence. “I wasn’t employed. I was, and am a friend.”

“But in retiring from my employ, you receive your dearest fantasy for the rest of your life.”

“I understand, Mr. Roarke. But you told me that you’re a friend, and you want me to be your friend. Well, if I was to take my ultimate fantasy under false pretences, I wouldn’t be a very good friend, would I?”

He nodded. “The truest type of friend. Very well. It is time for reality to reassert itself.” His speaking became much more upbeat. “However, before it does, I would like you to meet someone.” He pointed to a man who stood off to one side, as if waiting for an introduction.

The man walked up to them, and held out his hand to Mr. Roarke. “Sir,” he said. He turned to an astonished Brenda and took her hand, and kissed it. “Miss Tyler.” This man was a monarch! He was the single most important person in his country! He was Julie's father, and the last time she’d seen him, she had called him a pig!

“I would like to explain something to you,” he told her as he sat next to her.

“First, Diego, the aide who determined you would not see Julie again, has been relieved of his duties, and will not be in my service again. That is something I can guarantee, much better than he can the actions of my daughter.”

“Julie told me you don’t like...” She searched for the correct word. “Commoners?”

“Unfortunately, Julia sees what my aides want her to see.” He sighed. “Diego is the worst, but he’s not the only one. Many shall no longer work in my home, or government. What you said, made me see what they were doing to Julio.”

He glanced at Mr. Roarke. “I see my son’s fantasy is complete.”

“Is it, your highness?”

The king shook his head, and chuckled. “No, it is not.” He turned to Brenda. “Young lady, Julio’s fantasy was to make a friend who liked him only for himself. Because of his status… as my son, not misplaced social status, he needed to be disguised.” His smile was completely genuine as he said, “You have become that friend. I hope that you can forgive me and remain that friend. Perhaps allow him to visit you in the future, and visit him as well.”

She nodded, astonished, as he took her hand once more and kissed it. Then, he stood and gave a quick bow. “Good evening, Miss Tyler. Mr. Roarke.”

When he was gone, Brenda said to Mr. Roarke, “You said my fantasy was ending.”

She sat still for several moments, then asked. “When?”

“Oh, it already has. It ended at the same moment Julio’s did.” he told her, beaming.

“I don’t understand.”

“You have said that you are really Brenda, but have been too afraid to tell others. You have successfully overcome that fear, in how you dealt with a monarch, albeit unwittingly.”

He watched her face as she began to understand.

“You understand now, Brenda. The unreality is over. The reality… Has begun.”

The End – for us. Not for Brenda.

---

As is probably apparent to many of you, but I’m sure not all, this is a one-off fanfiction of Fantasy Island, of which I own no part. (gotta do the standard disclaimer)

When I was a kid, Fantasy Island was something I always wished was real, for obvious reasons. Thus, this story has been sitting on my to do list for quite some time.

Ricardo Montalbahn was quoted as saying that he played Mr. Roarke as a fallen angel, and in fact, there were two episodes where Mephistophiles made an appearance. It was never definitively stated who or what Mr. Roarke was, but he was supposedly extremely old (In one episode he met a woman he was friends with, but she died 300 years ago).

May your fantasy come true!

-Rosemary

Fantasy Island and all associated characters are owned by Spelling-Goldberg Productions, Columbia Pictures Television, Sony Pictures Home Entertainment. Copyright infringement is not intended.

The Devil’s Due

By Rosemary

Burgess Meredith Phillips was piloting the plane to the island that fateful day. He had been one of the two pilots taking people to and from the island for several years now. This, however, was a different sort of passenger. Not only was it rare that only one passenger was aboard, but this woman was incredibly beautiful and sexy.

He hadn’t asked her name as she boarded the Grumman Widgeon. He wanted to, but as always, he hadn’t had the guts to do so. In fact, any sort of conversation was impossible, as he was completely dumbstruck by her.

In all fairness, however, he already knew the name of the young woman. She was Cherisse Howell; singer, dancer, and actress. She had it all, including, any man she wanted.

Whatever anyone thought of her morals, however, she was extremely talented.

He came in close to the island, as he always did, showing the paradise that was known as Fantasy Island. It was incredible. The lush vegetation, the black obsidiaon on the shores, and the beautiful waterfalls cascading off the cliffs.

Jess, as Captain Phillips was known, was looking forward to the next two weeks. He had paid a discounted price just for the time on the island, no fantasy involved. He had told Mr. Roarke that he hoped to finally be able to build up enough courage to speak to a woman and perhaps get to know her.

If this is any indication, that probably won’t happen, he reflected about the completely silent flight, as he lined up the plane to land in the lagoon. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to find anyone.

-=#=-

Mr. Roarke and his assistant, Tattoo, got out of their respective red vehicles and took up their regular spot where they always welcomed new arrivals.

“Smiles, Everyone! Smiles!” Mr. Roarke urged the throng of greeters, just as he always did.

“Who’s she, Boss?” Tattoo asked as an absolutely gorgeous woman exited the plane. She was wearing a pink dress that left little to the imagination up top. As she moved through the path from he plane, her walk was absolutely seductive -- Tattoo was completely in love.

“That is Ms. Cherisse Howell, Tattoo,” Mr. Roarke explained. “She was once an average person; absolutely nothing special. But then, she made a deal that gave her fame, and fortune. Everything she thought she would ever want. The deal is almost up, and before it is time to pay, she wishes to spend three days as her real self. She has found that her success is not what fulfills her, but has to pay the price.”

As Cherisse entered the open ground, a lei was placed around her neck, and a drink pushed into her hand. She glanced around, and was thrilled with the island. The lush flora around her was obviously well maintained. The groundskeeper here must be absolutely incredible, she thought.

She took a sip of the drink she’d been given, and was shocked. A Sea Breeze Cocktail! Her favorite drink for such an occasion! How would anyone here know? she wondered.

She looked to the tall, dignified, gray haired man in the white suit. Beside him was a cherubic man who seemed to be under four feet tall. The tall man had a drink, while the short one did not. The seemed to be conversing, but she couldn’t hear what was being said.

Suddenly, the tall man held up his drink. With a smile on his face, he proclaimed; “Ms. Howell; I am Mr. Roarke, your host. Welcome to Fantasy Island!”

-=#=-

It was a short time later that Ms. Howell met with Mr. Roarke in his office.

“Why do you wish to spend time as your old self? You have everything you’ve ever wished for,” the dignified man said.

“Really?” she scoffed, her voice raised. “You think so, Mr. Roarke?”

She sat down in the wicker chair across the desk from him, and even that movement, while she seemed frustrated and defeated, was somehow sexy. Mr. Roarke narrowed his eyes, studying her carefully.

“Do you know what Cherisse Howell means?” Her voice was still dripping with sarcasm. “It means Beloved Imminent. As if being wealthy and famous were the most important thing.”

“But surely when you made your deal, that’s what you thought.”

“Exactly, but I was wrong!” She spoke so vehemently that she had to stand and step toward his desk, as if to accentuate her speech.

“And who did you make your deal with, Ms. Howell.”

She looked downward in shame, and spoke so silently that he didn’t hear her. He didn’t need to. He’d researched everything, and knew, but he wanted to see how determined she really was.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Howell. Can you speak louder?”

“Satan,” she finally managed, after two failed attempts.

He nodded. “I see. So you wish to be your real self, once more before he... claims you?” It was more of a statement than a question.

She didn’t try to speak again, but nodded, tears in her eyes.

He didn’t say anything, but stood waiting for her to finish her story. Finally, she looked up, pleading. “I used to be male, Mr. Roarke. I didn’t ask for this change, she said as she gestured at her body. My personality changed as well as my body.” She took a gasping breath before continuing. “I can’t help but dress in the sexiest clothes, and I always have to be as sexy and sultry as I can.” She paused, obviously reluctant to say any more. Finally, after another shuddering inhale; “And I can’t help but go to bed with anyone who wants to. It’s like being a whore is programmed into me.”

She shook her head, trying to clear it. “It’s got to be better than this, Mr. Roarke. I end up going to bed with people I’ve never met before, just because I can.” She pointed at her head. “Up here, I know it’s wrong, but here (she indicated the rest of her body), I can’t stop things.”

For a moment, Mr. Roarke thought she was about to cry, but she stopped herself.

“Me not liking who I was, drove me to this contract. What I didn’t realize was that it was who I should be.”

He seemed to consider, then finally said, “Very well.” He gestured behind him at a door on the wall behind him and on his left. “Walk through that door, and your fantasy will begin.”

She looked at the door in disbelief. It was that simple? Walk through the door and she would be George Purcell again?

She gave Mr. Roarke a questioning look. He gave a broad smile and gestured once more at the door.

She took a faltering step, not sure what would happen, and fearful that her wish wouldn’t be granted. But she sped up as she got close to the realization of her dream, until finally she was almost running in her four inch heels.

She opened the door wide, and looked through it. All she could see was a patio with an umbrella table sitting in the middle of it, around which several more wide backed wicker chairs sat. She looked once more at Mr. Roarke who was still smiling at her, his hands folded across his stomach as he looked reassuring. She turned back to the doorway and stepped through.

-=#=-

Jess Phillips looked around at the interior of his bungalow. It was comparatively as nice as his home in Honolulu, but here things were much quieter. To be fair, his house was on the hillside overlooking most of the city, but the sounds of the city always came up the hill to assail his ears. It wasn’t a megalopolis, but still had in excess of a million people in the municipality.

His fantasy, had he requested it, would have been to meet the woman of his dreams. He had felt a pull toward the woman on the plane, but he had been so afraid to blow it that he was unable to even speak to her beyond a shakey “Hello,” as she got on the plane. She had given him a sultry smile, but nothing beyond that.

He seriously hoped he could see her again and build up the courage to talk to her.

-=#=-

Cherise found herself in a bedroom, and it was decorated as if for a woman. She looked down at her body and found that she was still a woman. Looking around, she found that she liked the decor of the room, and started walking again.

She almost sprained her ankle as she took a step. She stopped and wondered, “What the heck?” She’d been wearing high heels for the last ten years. Nothing shorter than four inch, and almost all, spikes. She’d never had a problem with them in all that time.

The only time she didn’t wear heels was when she was playing a role for a movie that required she wear something else. Not that she took a role like that often. Usually, her roles had her as a classy lady all the time.

She took another step, very carefully, and was okay, but for the first time in a long time, she decided she didn’t need to be wearing heels and bent down to take them off.

She kicked the shoes toward the closet, and walked the rest of the way with no problem. In fact, she revelled in the fact that she was able to stretch her calves. The last time she wore flat shoes was for a movie that had her in casual clothes for much of the time, and she hated the feeling of not being dressed as sexy as she could be.

Looking in the closet, she found the clothes she’d brought to the island. There was very little. She’d assumed that she would be wearing men’s clothing for the duration, and what she’d brought of that wasn’t in evidence. There was a dress that she’d planned on wearing when she left the island, and it clearly said ‘slut’.

Alongside the one dress, were many more articles of clothing, that were incredibly more modest. She picked up a dress and admired it, but she really wanted some pants. She didn’t see any, but the sundress she was holding looked great when she held it up to herself.

Looking in the mirror, she decided something simply didn’t look right. It was her makeup! She pulled off what she was wearing, and went over to the vanity.

Her makeup was there, and she removed what she was wearing. She put on something much more subtle, then slipped on the dress. Returning to the closet, she found a pair of flats that would complement the dress and slipped her bear feet into them.

It felt incredible to have bare legs that the dress could caress. The last time she had worn a dress like this was in a movie. She had hated the feeling, but now... It was wonderful! She loved the feeling of being a woman who was more relaxed, but this wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted to be George Purcell!

She made her way out of the bedroom, into the rest of the bungalow. It was beautiful! The decor throughout the house was Victorian, which she had always loved, and distinctly feminine, which she found calming.

But it wasn’t what she’d wanted! She almost sat down to take in the feelings, and the beauty of the place, but she needed to talk to Mr. Roarke. Reluctantly, she left the bungalow, saw the main house not far away, and stormed toward it.

-=#=-

Jess sat down at an open air cafe. The cost of food and drink was included in the price of his vacation, so he had asked for, and received a bacon cheeseburger and fries. He looked around, and it seemed that most of the patrons were eating things more exotic. Oh well, he figured. Exotic food wasn’t really his fare, although he might try some later.

He saw the beautiful woman, Cherisse Howell, from the plane walk by. She looked very determined, and was walking very quickly toward the main house. He wondered if there was something wrong. If there was, he didn’t know which one he sympathised with more. Her or Mr. Roarke. Cherisse was said to have a terrible temper if she was crossed. But, Mr. Roarke had a very powerful personality, and he had never heard of anyone getting the best of him.

He watched as she stormed through the front door. He had seen Mr. Roarke leave the house earlier and leave the small town in one of his curious red vehicles, so he doubted that now was her time to complain.

As he suspected, she soon exited the house, and looked around. Spotting the cafe he was at, she walked over and asked for a fruit salad and some iced tea. Once she received it, she looked around for a place to sit. There was none, and he surprised himself by beckoning her over.

She seemed reluctant, but moved over and sat down. He didn’t know how to respond to the fact that she ws dressed much more conservatively than she had been on the plane. She wasn’t exuding sexiness as she had been before, but she seemed to be much more human. After she sat down, she seemed to relax almost immediately.

She held out her hand and introduced herself. “I’m Georgene Purcell, and you are?”

“I’m Burgess Meredith Phillips, although most of my friends call me Jess. I was the pilot of the plane that brought you here.”

“Yes, I remember... Jess.”

Their conversation flowed, and they talked together for over three hours. Until, she saw Mr. Roarke returning to his house.

She excused herself, and got up. She marched up to Mr. Roarke, who greeted her warmly.

“What is going on, Mr. Roarke?” she exploded when she stood toe to toe with the distinguished man. She felt ridiculous standing in front of him, yelling, but was known to have a temper and it definitely showed at the moment.

“I don’t understand,” Mr. Roarke told her.

“This is not what I paid for! I told you I wanted to be myself for this fantasy!”

“Perhaps we should go to my office and discuss this,” he said mildly.

“Why not talk here, so people will know how you screwed up?”

“Are you certain that I was the one who, as you crudely put it, screwed up?” he asked, raising one eyebrow.

“Well, I certainly didn’t,” she was more furious now than before, but kept her voice very quiet as she drew her five and a quarter feet up as high as she could. It was still no match for Mr. Roarke’s six feet even, but the posturing was not lost on the others around who were now watching them.

“Didn’t you,” he said quietly. Curiously, it was a statement of fact, rather than a question, as if he knew something she didn’t. Suddenly, he was quite animated. “You said, you wanted to be your, how did you put it in your letter? Oh yes. Own self. I have made you your true self. This is who you are.”

“I’m still...” She didn’t want to say the name aloud and have a mob on her hands. “Her!”

“No, Georgene. You are not. You have none of the compulsions you had as her.” He drew himself up to his full height. “As compensation for what you deem as an incorrect fulfillment of your fantasy, I give you the entire week, rather than three days. Until the contract with him is due. You see, I have limited ability in this situation. I can make you as you are, but I cannot make you as you were.”

“Why not?” she hissed.

“Certainly, you realize that I cannot break the contract you made with him.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that when I asked for my fantasy then?”

“I didn’t tell you that, because it made no difference to your fantasy.”

“It certainly did!”

He shook his head. “No, Georgene. It did not. Have you never wondered why you were so despondent before you made your deal? It had nothing to do with fame and fortune. It had everything to do with who you were.” He abruptly changed his demeanor again. “I will not speak of this anymore unless we reconvene in my office.” He paused. “For your sake.”

“I have no wish to talk to you anymore.”

“Very well, Miss Purcell. I hope we can meet again before we must deal with Mephistophiles.”

“We? I’ll handle it myself, thank you.”

He nodded his head slightly, and then she left. She saw Jess sitting at the table where she had left him, and rejoined him. He diplomatically didn’t inquire what the argument had been about, and they enjoyed each other’s company for the evening, even getting dinner later.

Jess tried some calimari, and Georgene decided to have something she hadn’t for many years; a bacon cheeseburger and fries.

-=#=-

The next day, Georgene made her way to Mr. Roarke’s office, but once again, he wasn’t there. She really wanted to ask him what he didn’t want to speak of, but alas...

She went over to the cafe, and enjoyed a breakfast of toast and mangos, which she always loved. She sat where she could see the main house when he arrived, but he surprised her by walking up behind her, and bidding her good morning.

She jumped at the sound of his voice, and spun around in her chair. With him was Jess. “Good morning, Georgene,” the pilot said to her.

“Mr. Roarke. Jess.”

“May we adjourn to my office, Miss Purcell?”

She was reluctant, but she stood. Mr. Roarke gestured for her to lead the way, and she headed toward the house. Jess stayed at the table and ordered a breakfast.

They entered the enigmatic man’s office, and Georgene sat down. She appeared antsy, and kept looking to the window. She couldn’t see Jess from where she sat, but the pull was strong.

“You seem interested in Mr. Phillips,” Roarke commented.

“I think that’s my business, Mr. Roarke,” she told him in no uncertain terms.

“Yes, it is, but as the owner of this island and the one charged to fulfill your fantasy, it is my business as well.”

She had turned back to the window, but at his words, her head snapped around. She stared at him, uncertain how to respond. Finally, she said, “It seems I was the one charged.”

He smiled. “Oh certainly you were charged. My meaning, however, had nothing to do with money. You put me in charge of fulfilling your fantasy. I mean to do just that.”

“But...” she began.

“Ms. Purcell. Let us cease dancing around the obvious. Before you entered into that contract, you were transgender. If you look deeply into your heart, you will see that is true. Right now, you are displaying an interest in Mr. Phillips. While you have female hormones in your body, your personality... your essence... is back to normal.” He took on an air of seriousness. “You have accused me of not fulfilling your fantasy, yet in actuality, I have, just as you requested. You are now more yourself than you have ever been.”

She thought of how she felt before her foolish request to Satan. Then, how she felt when she realized she had become female. There was a moment of panic at her change, but when she realized she acted as if she had always been female, the panic was replaced with euphoria – until she found that her compulsions were of a seductive nymphomaniac. She would bed any man, no matter who he was – it disgusted her, but she couldn’t stop.

“When you signed the contract, was there any mention of extreme seduction. Of nymphomania?”

The question threw her for a moment, then shamefacedly, she admitted. “I didn’t see any, but I didn’t read the contract as carefully as I should have.”

“I agree, but it would have made no difference if you had.” He reached into the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a familiar legal document. “I have here, the contract that you signed with the devil.” At her shocked face, he told her, “I assure you it is truly the contract you were given.” He continued, reprimanding her. “You need to take care what you sign, young lady. The contract I had you sign gave my assistant, Tattoo, your power of attorney. Specifically to open your safe deposit box.”

“But I...” She was aghast, but realized he was right. She hadn’t read that contract through either. “You said it wouldn’t have made any difference had I read my contract with Satan through?”

“No. The seductive traits and nymphomania were not mentioned. However, Satan assumed complete power over your actions. In essence, he took possession. Such is the nature of his contracts with people.”

“You seem to know a lot of how he operates,” Georgene commented. “Perhaps you can explain why he made me female if I was transgender anyway. That seems as though it would defeat his purpose.”

He seemed to weigh her strength with his eyes, then told her, “Contracts with him are non-binding. So much of what he promises is lie. Oh, he uses truth, certainly, but he twists it – doesn’t explain it.”

“So why?”

“Because he didn’t want you to realize that he was not fulfilling the contract. You had to believe that the depression was gone so he could take possession of you.”

“Wait... you said the contract isn’t binding!”

“No. It isn’t. It is full of lies. He promised you happiness until the end. He did not fulfill his part of the agreement.” He looked out the window, and smiled. “And now, my dear, a young man is waiting for you at the cafe. He certainly has tenacity.”

She stood and held out her hand as if to shake his. Instead, he took her hand, turned it, and gracefully kissed it. Then he gave her a stiff bow. “I told you that I would allow you the full week. I will keep my promise, and at the end of that week, we will meet with Mephistopheles – together.”

With a light heart, she made her way to the cafe, where Jess was waiting. At her approach, he stood and when she arrived, took her outstretched hand, and he too showed his gentle-manliness by kissing it.

They both sat and enjoyed each other’s company for the rest of the day.

-=#=-

The next day, Jess and Georgene packed up a picnic basket and made their way to the top of a volcano that they were assured was extinct It was very similar to the volcanos in Hawaii, and had a deep crater behind them, but they were more interested in the view of the populated area of the island spread out in front of them. Surprisingly, there wasn’t a lot of it that could be seen. Again, the groundskeeper appeared to have done a remarkable job in camoflaging the buildings. Much of the area that they knew to be populated appeared to be virgin ground, where nobody had ever set foot.

After they ate their meal, Georgene moved over to Jess and leaned against him with her head on his chest. After awhile, she asked him, “What was your fantasy?”

He chuckled a bit and then explained. “I’m one of the two pilots who fly people to the island. Mr. Roarke allowed me to come here, simply on vacation. I get a week. I almost asked for a fantasy, but It wasn’t really something I could afford.

“What would your fantasy have been?” Georgene asked.

Again, he chuckled. “To meet the woman of my dreams. I’ve never been good with women.”

“It seems to me you’re doing okay,” she told him. “By the way. Georgene is kind of an out-of-date name. Could you call me Gina from now on?”

“I think that’s very fitting, Gina,” he replied, then he gently touched her chin and lifted her face so he could kiss her.

His kiss shocked her. It felt like an incredibly powerful shock. Almost like she imagined being struck by lightning would be.

The rest of the week, Gina and Jess spent every moment in each other’s company, until the day Gina’s future would be decided.

-=#=-

At the stroke of midnight, Mephistopheles appeared in Mr. Roarke’s office. Gina was seated facing the island’s owner, fidgeting, while the gentleman was behind his desk, looking over the contract one last time.

“How touching,” the devil said as he saw what Mr. Roarke was doing. “Trying to find a way out of the contract? I assure you that it’s airtight.”

“Oh?” Mr. Roarke said. “I don’t see it that way.”

Mephistopheles gave an evil grin. “I assure you, Roarke. This one is airtight.”

“Oh, it would be airtight, had you done your part, but we both know; you didn’t.”

The grin faded from Satan’s face, and a look of rage assumed its place. “Are you accusing me of lying?”

Roarke laughed in derision, then his face took on a grim countenance. “You never learn, Mephistopheles. You never learn. Of course I am. And you know you did.”

“I followed the contact as written!”

“No. You did not. You included the phrase, ‘fame and fortune to give the client happiness for the duration of the contract.’”

“I gave her fame and fortune to give her happiness. That she wasn’t happy was not my fault! She could have been happy!”

“You took the very thing you knew would have given happiness to her, and turned it into something evil for her. It disgusted her.”

“That isn’t my fault!”

“Yes. It is. What you refuse to aknowledge is that you lie, and omit part of the truth in each of your contracts, which renders each one useless. She has recognized this, and she orders you to be gone.”

“I don’t take orders from her, or from you, Roarke.” He spat out the last phrase.

“Shall we call someone whose orders you will take?”

Suddenly, the angry visage of Satan showed fear. He started to fade, and as he did so, he intoned, in a booming voice, “Very well. But do not play with me, Roarke. You have succeeded here, but never again. I will defeat you!” And then, he was gone.

Mr. Roarke stared at where he had stood for a long moment, then said, “That too, is a lie.”

-=#=-

It was time for Gina to leave the island. The red car picked her up at her bungalow, and she reluctantly got in. At Mephistophiles’ disappearance from Mr. Roarke’s office, she had reverted to being male. Thankfully, the clothes she had been wearing were able to stretch enough for her new frame.

She definitely didn’t want Jess to see her, however. She looked very different than who she’d been throughout the week. She was sorry that she’d be leaving without saying goodbye, but it was probably for the best.

-=#=-

She arrived at the dock, looking different than how she had during the week, but still feminine. She walked up to Mr. Roarke. “I want to thank you, Mr. Roarke. I wouldn’t have had the guts to face up to him on my own,” she said, referring to Satan. “I would have believed him when he said the contract was airtight.”

“Never believe anything he says, Ms. Purcell. He says nothing but half truths and lies. He passes himself off as an Angel of Light, but that not in his being. He has no soul as you do – no love of others. You must learn to trust what is true and right.”

She smiled, and Mr. Roarke saw that when she did, her face as beautiful as it had been as Cherisse Howell. She looked positively radiant. “Thank you for everything,” she said as she turned toward where the plane sat.

She walked up to the open door and stepped inside. Suddenly, Mr. Roarke heard an exclamation from inside. “Jess!”

Mr. Roarke smiled as he turned toward his topless station wagon. He could faintly hear the conversation from inside the plane as he sat down. He held up his hand to keep his driver from starting the engine.

“There’s an empty seat beside me, Gina,” he heard the pilot say.

There wasn’t any reply, but he saw Gina move forward in the plane and take a seat beside the pilot. Her pilot.

The door to the plane shut, and he couldn’t hear any more.

Oh well. He had an idea what the flight back to Hawaii would be like. Before the meeting with the devil, he had met with Jess. He had explained about Gina. Who she was, and what was about to happen.

As soon as he realized that Gina’s fantasy was over, Jess decided to spend the rest of his vacation in Hawaii, where he knew Gina would take more time recovering from Cherisse.

“She will need confirmation that she is, indeed, a woman,” Mr. Roarke told him. “An exquisite woman, who can be loved. Whether you fill the role of the one who loves her, is up to you. I think you will make the right choice, though. You’re a man of honor, and loyalty. You see people for what they are.”

Jess had nodded his agreement.

Mr. Roarke suspected that he hadn’t seen the last of Gina Purcell. Well, perhaps he had. He might see Gina Phillips in the future, however.