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Part I: The Island

The rocking and thumping sensations came again, but Charles just buried himself deeper into the comforting darkness. Even if he wasn't dreaming in the usual sense, he was still very much enjoying his sleep. And why shouldn't he? He didn't have to work until noon, which meant he could sleep in until eleven, giving him thirty minutes to dress, eat, and clean himself up before heading out; living four short miles from work had its benefits.

But the sensations kept coming, and Charles slowly realized he was waking up. In a desperate bid to make the most of what little time he had left, he tried to make use of that lucid dreaming stuff he'd read about in Psychology class. He tried to focus on being in the middle of a pillow fight with flirtatious women, but even as that image began to fuzzily form in his mind's eye, he lost it.

"I'm up, Mom, I'm up," he groaned, rolling over onto his back. His bed felt like it was covered in grits; stupid cat had probably had its way with the litter box and then left the bits all over his bed. Now he'd have to change the sheets.

"I'm not your mom, dude."

Charles's eyes snapped open---and then immediately snapped shut, momentarily blinded by the intense sunlight.

"Hey, relax," the voice advised. "Don't look up; the sun's still overhead. Just open your eyes slowly while looking to the side. Oh, and don't freak out, okay? We're all in the same boat here."

It was a boy's voice, and he sounded to be close to Charles's age, 19. Doing as instructed, the youth turned his head aside and cautiously opened his eyes, and saw why he'd been told to keep his cool.

The other boy was nude, crouching on one knee, his hand luckily obscuring his package. Like Charles, he was white, but his head was shaven, completely unlike Charles's mop of unruly black hair, and his eyes were much darker. He was lean with no muscle.

"Glad to see you kept it together," the boy grinned. "I'm Joey. You?"

"Charles." He hesitated, and then asked, "Dumb question, but, where am I? And where are my clothes?"

Joey shrugged. "Dunno, man. Last thing any of us remember is turning in for the night in each of our homes, and then we all woke up here. There's eight of us, counting you, by the way; I'll introduce you to the others in a little bit."

He extended a hand, and Charles took it, getting up. He could see now that he was on a beach, one right out of a tropical vacation ad, with soft white sand, crystal blue waters, palm trees and loads of thick foliage. The island had a few small hills, from what he could make out, with a single, large mountain close to the center. It was covered with green, and had a large crater at its top, the interior of which was visible even from the beach; perhaps a dormant volcano?

"You look like you have it, too," Joey commented. "Your skin has faint spots on it."

Looking at both himself and Joey, Charles could make out very slight, shadowy discolorations all over his body, as if he was starting to get a bizarre rash.

"Oh god, this is going to be a total pain in the ass," he said.

"Almost forgot," Joey said suddenly. "Where are you from?"

"Arkansas. Why?"

Joey waved a hand. "We're trying to find a connection between us all, but we're from all over the U.S. So far, the only things we have in common are that we're Americans and all teens---well, older teens, but whatever. And white, but Dan's pretty sure that isn't a major factor in why we were kidnapped. I'm from Maine."

"Dan?"

Joey nodded. "Yeah, he's kinda our resident egghead. Knows all kinds of stuff and is our unofficial leader. We're Giligan's Island but without the bamboo radio."

Charles couldn't help but laugh, and in his amusement forgot the discomfort of being on an unknown island in the buff with a group of strangers. He noticed then that he was starting to perspire.

"God, how hot does it get?" he asked, and his new acquiantance shrugged.

"Not too hot or humid, but enough to make me angry. Hell, I don't even get sunburnt and I have to deal with peeling skin. See? Come on; it's around ten, which means late breakfast for you. Beth should have some fish ready."

---

With Charles, there were eight of them, exactly as Joey had mentioned. They were camping a couple miles into the jungle ("To give us a buffer from any storms and from the natural cold winds that blow in from the ocean," Dan had explained), and, also exactly as with Joey, they were in their birthday suits.

Dan was a tall boy, standing six-foot-zero, with short-cropped blonde hair, a medium build, and an infectious smile that only helped spread his seemingly bottomless knowledge of people, places, and things. He'd been the one to teach how to make crude spears, with another boy, Alex, doing most of the labor after learning the ropes. He'd been the one to figure out roughly what time it was by observing the sun. He'd been the one to give an idea of which berries to eat and what kind of jungle animals to hunt. Charles had to admit, he was indeed the leader of the ersatz tribe. His discolorations were unsettling: it appeared as if they were a pattern, affecting his back and part of his face while leaving his front pale. He was from Michigan.

Beth was their fishing expert, with dark brown hair that was jaggedly cut off at her shoulders, a slender figure at five-seven, and pert C-cups. Charles saw that her discolorations were patterned as well, but this time in thick strokes that went from one side to the other on her back. She confessed to being from Montana.

Alex was a little shorter than Dan, with a light build. He had short, light brown hair and, Charles was surprised to see, a modest goatee. His discolorations were similar to Dan's, but in a different pattern. From what Joey explained, Alex was the most reliable person in the group, doing anything and everything needed, always helping out. He was from California, which was Charles's guess, given his vaguely surfer-esque appearance.

Kelly hailed from Florida, and was an inch shorter than Beth. Her blonde hair reached past her shoulders, and she had a light base tan that accentuated her loveliness; it almost distracted completely from her discolorations, which were masses of paleness that covered her chest and extended down over her crotch and then under to cover her crack, as well as ringed her mouth and nose. She was slimmer than Beth, and her breasts were similarly smaller. Since she wasn't good at fishing like Beth was, she procured vegetation and fruits, doing her best to make them into salads, which were her favorite meals.

Then came Amanda. She was a soft-spoken, shy girl. Her frizzy red hair made Charles think immediately of Ms. Frizzle from The Magic Schoolbus, and she even kept it up in a tight bun, which he approved of. She had a habit of laughing (almost musically) a lot. She was tall as Beth, but narrower than Kelly, something that made her roughly resemble a scarecrow. Very surprisingly, her breasts were as pert as Beth's, if a little bit smaller overall. She came from North Carolina. Her discolorations were on her legs, covering them almost completely from toe to upper thigh. She helped Kelly with gathering, apparently rather good at finding the juicier berries.

Last came Meg from Colorado. She was the shortest of them all, at only five-foot-five, but she had a solid figure with a runner's build and B-cups adorning her chest. Like Kelly, she had blonde hair, but hers ended at the top of her neck, giving her a tomboyish look. Her discolorations were hard to make out at first, but they seemed to cover just about every inch of her body, with modest branching patterns on her face and short horizontal slashes on her arms and legs; the rest of her had spots. She was more or less Beth's opposite, specializing in catching small, rodent-like jungle animals.

Looking at her, Charles, who'd spent so much of his time working to earn the money for a Dodge Charger and given so little thought to the opposite sex, suddenly wished he'd paid more heed to the "ramblings" of his father on how to make women feel appreciated. He couldn't explain it, even to himself: it wasn't her looks and couldn't be her personality, since he didn't know her very well. It was just something instinctual. Pure and simple, he felt deeply attracted to her.

After the customary introductions, which helped Charles get comfortable in the newly-formed nudist colony, Dan took to elaborating on his theories of just where the hell they might have wound up.

"This is actually the third day," he told Charles over a dinner of red berries, fish, and small green peppers, garnished with mint-flavored leaves (Alex was rather good at starting small campfires). "The first day, it was just me, Beth, and Joey. Meg, Kelly, Amanda, and Alex got here sometime around dawn the next day. I'm thinking that's when you dropped in, but that we just didn't stumble across you until a few hours later."

Charles waved a hand around. "Okay, but, I'm sorry, where is here? Are we in the Pacific?"

Dan shook his head. "I don't think so. I haven't been able to identify the few constellations that I'm familiar with. I can't even find the North Star. What worries me is that, since I can't find the North Star, it would mean I'm probably on another hemisphere."

"That's something I don't entirely agree with," Alex spoke up. "Nobody here's an expert on stargazing, but the constellations move around, so we should be able to figure out our location off that. We're clearly close to the Equator, so we should be able to spot at least one familiar set of stars."

"But we're not on 'the Island,' " Dan quickly interjected. "You know, from Lost? We're definitely not there. Thank God, right?"

"But we still don't have any clue where we are?" Charles asked, and no one said anything for a long moment.

"Well, they discovered a lost Amazon tribe recently, right?" Amanda said. "If they can do that after all this time, then they can find us on an island somewhere, right?"

Again, no one said a word.

---

Part II: The Ruins

"Joey spotted them later on the first day," Meg explained as she led Charles through the jungle. "Didn't have a chance to explore them, since they were busy finding a way to survive. The other day, since there were more of us, we were able to check them out a bit, but we still needed to get food and find a decent spot to sleep."

She stopped both talking and leading, pointing through the trees. Charles could just barely make out the tip of a stone cap, which likely adorned the spire of an ancient temple's roof.

Walking again, Meg continued, "There's barely anything there, but it shows that people once lived here. Dan doesn't want to wager that they went out in some kind of canoe mass exodus, because he knows what happened to the survivors of the Essex, the ship that was the inspiration for Melville's Moby-Dick."

"Wait, what?" Charles asked, grabbing her shoulder. A jolt ran through him, but he forced himself to ignore it. "The Essex? What happened to what survivors?"

Meg didn't meet his eyes. "After the ship sank, the survivors got into three boats. Some of them stayed behind on an island they found, but the others... Well, one boat was never seen again, one boat was near death, and the last..." She shuddered, and then said, "They ate each other and went mad."

Charles could only stare at her. He didn't want to try and imagine a bunch of land-lubbing modern-day teens gambling with their fates out on the open sea, especially if trained sailors had ended up so thoroughly screwed.

It took him a moment follow Meg again.

The ruins were like something out of a National Geographic article on ancient Thai cities. They weren't Thai, of course, but certainly gave the impression of being much like them. They were short, with the spire being probably no more than fifty feet above ground (which explained why it would have been impossible to see from the beach). Only five structures, four of them the size of ranch houses, populated the clearing. The fifth was the spire-building, the temple, towering over its brethren.

They were arranged with the four smaller structures (really just giant rectangular blocks) in two rows of two, with the temple presiding over it all, the star of the show. All of them were decorated, ringed with carved scenes of animal-masked people worshiping larger animal-masked people. There were even a few scenes of copulation, which Charles decided to skip over.

"Guess you don't want to see the main attraction, huh?" Meg laughed. At the boy's confused look, she pointed to the temple, which had a narrow set of steps leading up to a bull-headed statue that was seven feet tall. The rocky minotaur had an impressive physique, with sculpted muscles that belonged at a Floridian or Californian beach, picking up bimbos. He wore a simple necklace with beads, and wristbands on each wrist. One fist was placed firmly upon a hip, and the other wielded a trident.

It wasn't as if he needed it, though: at no less than one full foot and rended in still-exquisite detail, his erection was fearsome enough.

Blushing, Charles said, "Uh, yeah, that's, uh, that's a helluva wedding tackle he's got. Makes me not want to be his special someone."

Meg was barely restraining her amusement as she pointed at Charles's own member. "Oh yeah? Looks like you're jealous!"

"Shit!"

He was almost fully erect himself. What the hell? Had the sight of a stone bull dong seriously made him horny? He tried to cover himself, tried to will his boner away, especially since Meg was now laughing hard enough to have trouble standing upright...

...But the more she laughed and the longer his erection stayed, the more he wanted to show it off.

"Relax!" Meg advised, coming down from her amused fit. "Relax. I just wanted to see your reaction to that goofy thing. I wasn't trying to embarrass you or anything. Honestly, I just wanted to.."

When she didn't continue after a moment, Charles asked, "Wanted to what?"

She gestured helplessly. "I just wanted to fuck you."

His jaw couldn't hit the ground fast or hard enough. "You what?!"

Meg held up her hands in a calming gesture. "Whoa, hey, settle down! Now, I don't know if you felt it, but when I met you yesterday, I got the feeling that you were special. I'm not trying to hook up with anyone, I'm not a slut or anything, I just... I just got the feeling that you were someone I was waiting for. It's this gut feeling."

He didn't respond immediately, which she took as a prompt to continue. "When we first finished exploring these ruins, I stayed behind for just a moment, and---I swear, I'm not religious or anything---I just kind of prayed to that statue for a guy to be here with me. Amanda and Alex have some flirty relationship; Beth and Dan, for all their bickering, are practically married; I'm not a lesbian for Kelly; and Joey is really kind of a prick when he's not helping out." She gestured helplessly again. "I dunno, I guess I just... I guess I just wanted someone to make me feel loved."

He didn't say anything.

Meg's face took on a sad, almost crushed, look. "Oh god, you think I'm a whacko, don't you?"

The words came spilling out before he could phrase them properly.

"I want to kiss you so damn much right now."

Meg's face immediately lit up, and she practically launched herself into his arms.

He didn't have any fear that he'd hurt her by holding her too tightly or by kissing too passionately; everything he did not only felt right but was reciprocated equally. Meg practically shoved him towards the temple steps, breaking off the tongue wrestling so that she could turn around and put her hands onto them, spreading her legs.

"Do it!" she panted, looking over her shoulder. "Take me."

If Charles hadn't been so wracked with lust, he would have noticed that her discolorations were sharpening, coming into stronger focus. He would have noticed his own were flaring into plain sight, also. He would have stopped their first-base love session and alerted the others.

...But he was engulfed by waves of desire, and ignored everything except the beautiful creature in front of him.

Charles slid into her easily, his respectable six inches pushing apart her walls. He was unprepared for how hot and tight and slick she was, but that didn't stop him from getting a firm grip of her hips and thrusting into her fully. She gasped, arching her back and all but clawing the stone steps as he savaged her.

There wasn't any rhythm to his motions: he pounded into her as fast and as hard as he could, his mind, which was consumed with animalistic sexual hunger, set only on satisfying both himself and his mate.

"OH GOD!" she groaned, her elbows almost buckling under the intense fucking he was giving her. Inside, an incredible pressure was building, a burning sensation that only rose as the wild sex continued. Meg knew it was her orgasm coming, that it would give her a high that would shatter her mind and senses. What she hoped for, though, was that it wouldn't be her only orgasm; after all, Charles's dick was amazing, stretching her out and rubbing her walls in ways her modest dildos back home never had. She simply had to have more.

As the duo entered the last leg of their furious embrace, Charles's thrusts all but lifted Meg off her toes. In response, she focused what little will she had left and clamped down on him. The pressure sent him overboard, and he gave a final, tremendous push, their hips practically fusing together as he sent his seed into her. For her part, her vaginal muscles squeezed the life out of his member, her juices barely seeping out around it. She also gave a stilted cry, overwhelmed by the unbelievable pleasure that flooded her mind even while his cum flooded her pussy.

The last of his essence spent, Charles slumped onto her back; to his back-of-the-mind astonishment, she didn't immediately collapsed, but managed to awkwardly lower the both of them onto the temple's steps, each teen panting heavily from their exertions.

"Spots..." Charles wheezed.

"What?" Meg asked, blinking.

"Your spots. They're worse."

Separating themselves (reluctantly) and sitting up, the lovers examined themselves. Eyes widened, pulses quickened, and breaths were drawn shorter as they both saw their discolorations had blossomed into full-blown status, turning their bodies into bizarrely-patterned canvases.

"Oh god," Meg said, looking at her new boyfriend. "I've seen that look before." She pointed at Charles's enriched markings, which were vacant from his chest and throat. "Those spots, they're from a clouded leopard."

"What?" he gaped. "How the hell do you know this?"

"Because I still flip through the Zoobooks that I used to get in the mail as a kid," she confessed. "And no, I have no idea what mine is from."

Seeing her in such a fragile state, especially post-coitus, he had no choice but to put his arm around her and pull her close.

"I don't care," he told her. "I don't know what this disease is, and I don't know what we're turning into, but I just don't care. I'm going to stay here with you no matter what either of us looks like."

She returned his embrace, softly weeping.