Blue Movie free porn video

Blue Movie by Tim Willows "What do you think he's whipped up for us this time?" Beth asked me. "I have no idea, but he sounded very excited over the phone." "But what could it be? A game? Another one of those robots?" "Just calm down, okay? How should I know? It could be anything." My wife Beth and I were driving to our friend Jacob's house. House-hell, it was more of a mansion. Jacob had been our friend since our college days fifteen years ago; we had all shared the same off-campus house. But while Beth and I were history majors, Jacob had majored in computer sciences. And while Beth and I had found comfortable but low-paying jobs teaching history together at the same college we'd graduated from, Jacob had become... well, rich. Not just well-off, mind you, but rich. Incredibly wealthy. Never-work-another-day-in-your-life, buy-a-different-Porsche-for- every-day-of-the-week stinking filthy loaded. I don't know if it's right to toss around words like this, but if Jacob wasn't a genius, then I don't know who is. He just had a wired- in genius for computers and every sort of technology you could think of. That's what made him such a valuable commodity; he was a brilliant programmer, a brilliant engineer, a brilliant inventor. He didn't need anyone else; he'd just hole up in his laboratory tinkering around with his computers and his tools, whistling happily all the way, the rock music blaring from the stereo, and he'd be doing the work of twenty men. And he invented one brilliant device after another after he graduated-that's where all his money came from. He patented a cheap hologram-camera that took three-dimensional "Help me Obi- Wan" photos as easily as, and for the same price as, a normal flat photograph. Just point and shoot! He invented a new music- recording format that gave you the depth and detail of sound that vinyl LPs gave you, but with the clarity and durability of a CD-and here was the lucrative part: it was completely impossible to pirate. The record companies paid him millions for the initial rights and within two years it was the standard format for all albums, and then home videos. The royalties alone must have amounted to a hundred million dollars a year. Not all of Jacob's inventions were as practical as those; he was a playful, carefree guy who was just as likely to invent a computer game or a toy as some groundbreaking computer language. It all depended on what happened to catch his interest. We had become good friends with Jacob back in college-I think he was a lonely kind of guy, and he was on his own away from his hometown for the first time in his life and he really appreciated the friendliness we showed him. Beth and I kind of loosened him up a little from the shy kid he was when we first met him; we gave him his first hit of marijuana, we took him dancing at clubs with us, we introduced him to single girls we knew (even though none of the romances we tried to arrange for him ever took; Jacob was more interested in his inventions). And we were still good friends. Jacob invited us on vacations and trips to his mansion all the time, and we went whenever we were able to. Jacob gave us stock tips on companies that were about to buy inventions of his, which made our standard of living a lot more comfortable than it normally would have been. And more important than that: Beth and I were usually the very first people Jacob tried out his new inventions on. He had a laboratory built right into his house-even after making all his money and inventing all those things, he still kept busy trying to come up with new ones. And he still worked virtually on his own. It was kind of a thrill to be the first people to catch a glimpse of the new Jacob Kurland invention. He worked in such secrecy-Internet newsgroups were always abuzz with speculation about what his next creation might be. One time it was the first truly interactive video game, another time it was a housecleaning robot with a 10,000-word vocabulary. Whatever they were, they were always astonishing, delightful and so technologically advanced that they almost seemed magical. "I can't wait," Beth said as our car rounded a curve in the road and Jacob's mansion rose into view. "Neither can I, neither can I." Jacob greeted us in person-no butlers or servants for Jacob- and ushered us into his living room. We got caught up on each other's news as one of Jacob's robots served us drinks, and eventually Jacob led us into the dining room, where we had an excellent, gourmet four-course meal. The evening was so pleasant that it helped for a while to take my mind off the fact that my marriage wasn't what it used to be. Beth and I still got along all right, and it wasn't as if we were fighting all the time. There just wasn't much spark anymore. I could even pinpoint exactly where everything went wrong, not that it was of much use: it was when we decided to postpone having children until we both got our careers solidly established. I think I could tell even then that Beth very badly wanted to have a baby, but she agreed against her better judgment. And of course, in the academic profession, your career is never firmly established, and the years went by, until it started to seem like we were too old to think of starting a family. We had gone on in the same vein, just the two of us, for year after year-both of us slowly seeming less and less sexually attracted to each other-and, while we still loved each other and weren't thinking of a divorce, I still worried about turning into one of those cold, formal couples who simply exchange pleasantries over breakfast and dinner, go out occasionally to a movie, have a night of planned sex maybe once every week or two and gradually become unhappy strangers. "All right," Jacob said once he'd finished his after-dinner glass of cognac. "I suppose the two of you are wondering what I have in store for you tonight." "I thought you'd never tell us, Jake," my wife said. "Well, to be honest with you," he replied, "it's taken all my concentration just to get through dinner. I can't wait until you try it out! Come on! Come follow me!" Jake got up from the table and led us through a long, wood- panelled corridor and down a flight of stairs into a lushly appointed multimedia room. There was an enormous, very expensive looking stereo, a wall-sized TV screen, video players, computer screens and remote controls of every description, not to mention a long wall lined with nothing but cases of recorded music and home video titles. There was also a row of comfortable-looking padded leather chairs along another wall-six of them-that looked like high-tech electrocution chambers because of the metal helmets attached to them just above the headrests. I inspected one of the chairs. "What is this, Jake? Not one of those virtual-reality chambers." Jake made a contemptuous snort. "Virtual reality?" he said. "You've been watching The Matrix once too often. VR is the technological biggest dead end since CD-ROMs. No, this is, like, two hundred times better than that VR bullshit." "What do these things do, Jake?" Beth asked, gingerly fingers one of the series of sharp needles that lined the inside of each helmet. "All right. Let me think," said Jake. Whenever Jake had to explain one of his devices, he always needed a moment to think, so that he could figure out a way to put all of his complex thoughts into language ordinary people like Beth and myself could understand. "What I've been able to do is-OK, this is, like, the fourth generation of those 3-D cameras I invented, right? Where they're able to look at a given... uh, panorama, right?... and convert it into digital information and turn that into 3-D information, right? OK, well, what I've figured out a way to do is to take a movie, right? Like, any movie on a Kurland disc, a KD, or even an old VHS tape, right?, and do the same thing. Can you believe it? It, like, measures shadows and angles and everything and in, like, a nanosecond, it figures out the 3-D configuration of everything in the screen, right? "Okay," he continued. "So I figured that out, right? Then I was able to feed in all this, uh... tactile information, all this stuff I stole from the VR guys but building on it, right?, correcting everything those dickwads did wrong, right? You know how computer screens can differentiate, like, millions of colours? Well, these things can differentiate between millions of, like, sensations. And I've got another layer to the program, right, where the computer can, like, extrapolate from the image within the frame, to what the entire rest of the movie environment must look like." "You've lost me, Jake," I said. "What is this, some way of making videos with sharper images?" "God! No!" Jake said, exasperated. "Would I call you over here for that? What do you think I am, one of those geeks who, like, restores Vertigo so you can see the pattern of Jimmy Stewart's tie a little better? God! No, what I've done is to, like, turn any movie- you understand? Any movie at all-into, like a complete, 360-degree, digital information world, with all the sounds and the smells and the touches. And I've done the same for all the characters in the movie, too. You get me? Huh? You get me? You put on one of those helmets over there, and you can be, like, inserted into the movie. You get to be one of the characters!" Beth gaped at him. "You're kidding." "No! I'm not!" Jake said, grinning. "Can you believe it?" "Any movie?" I asked. "Once the program was written and the bugs gotten out of the technology, it was easy," Jake said. "The computer reads the movie and boom! In you go!" "And we just hang around the movie?" Beth asked. "Won't the characters bump into us?" "No!" Jake explained. "Are you dense or am I just a bad explainer? Probably a little of both." He grinned good-naturedly. "No, see, that's the marketing point of it. You get to be one of the characters. Right? You, like, take over the body of one of the characters. You see what they see! You go where they go! You feel what they feel!" "We get to be characters in the movie," I repeated doubtfully. "Anyone you like!" Jake said. "You can be Indiana Jones, Rhett Butler, right?, Humphrey Bogart in Casablanca, Batman... Anyone! Or at least, anyone I have a KD of here." Beth could barely stifle her excitement. "My God, Jake!" she said. "I'd say this thing would make you rich if you weren't so incredibly rich already! And... and, is that what you've called us over for tonight? Are Doug and I going to get to, like, be in a movie?" "You bet!" "My God..." I said, trying to take in the possibilities. A thousand questions ran through my mind. "But... but... what happens to us? Do we just do everything the characters do, like, with no control over anything? What happens if we die?" "You don't die," Jake said. "If your character dies, you just get bumped out of the program and you wake up back here. As for control, as far as I can tell, you have a certain amount of control over what happens. You can't change the plot or anything, but you can change your dialogue to some extent and move around on your own a little bit, too. But you can just go on automatic pilot, too, if you want to and let the character or the movie sort of do the thinking for you, you know, like, flip back and forth between doing the movie dialogue and saying your own words. You can kind of MST3K the situation if you want to-the other characters won't mind! It's, like, so cool, you will not believe it. You just have to strap yourself in and ride the story out to the end." I was always amused by how this brilliant guy, this visionary, who invented such astonishing devices could be so square when it came to using slang expressions. "So," Jake concluded. "What movie do you guys want to try?" "King Kong," I said jokingly. "How about it, honey? How'd you like me to carry you up the Empire State Building?" "Don't be ridiculous," Beth said. "It can't do anything like that." "No, wait, no!" Jake said. "That's not true. If it's in the movie, you can do it. You can be Bambi, Jiminy Cricket... I can load in King Kong vs. Godzilla and you two can ravage Tokyo together if you want to." "Well, I'm not going to live through King Kong, thank you very much," Beth said sternly. "Can't we do something romantic? Like Sleepless in Seattle?" I stared at her in astonishment. "You can be anything in the universe and instead you want to experience life as a woman who listens to the radio?!?" I shouted. "They barely even meet in that movie! Forget it! Let's have something with a little action in it! The Replacement Killers or something." "Oh man, that would be so cool," Jake said. "You know I hate those violent movies," Beth said. "And there's never any women in them anyway. What am I supposed to do for the entire movie?" "But Mira Sorvino's in it!" I said, knowing I was fighting a losing battle. "You'd get to be Mira Sorvino! She's an Oscar-winner, Beth!" "Can't we do, like, an Audrey Hepburn movie, maybe?" Beth asked. "Oooh, I'd so love to be Audrey Hepburn for a night. Do you have Breakfast at Tiffany's, Jake?" "Who's the guy in that one?" I asked. "George Peppard." "Hannibal?" I said. "Fuck that. No way am I being Hannibal." Beth and I argued back and forth like that for fifteen minutes more. Each time one of us would make a suggestion, the other one would find fault with it. Beth was too staid and queasy to want to do any of the action movies and I thought it was a waste of a great opportunity to do some boring romantic movie when you could be flying through outer space or living through some exciting spy adventure. And every time we'd thought we'd come up with a compromise-Romancing the Stone or The Mask of Zorro-Jake would turn out not to own the KD. We almost agreed on doing The Spy Who Loved Me, but at the last minute I absolutely refused to be Roger Moore instead of Sean Connery. It was a ridiculous argument, I realize, but it seemed symbolic of the rift in our marriage somehow... Beth turning down all chances of adventure, me avoiding all chances of experiencing sweeping movie-style romances. Finally, Jake spoke up. "Listen," he said. "You two are never going to agree on anything. I've got one final suggestion." "Let's hear it," I said. "I've got all my movies stored in a central data bank. Why don't I just hook the two of you up and have the computer select a movie at random?" Beth and I looked at each other. "Fine," I said. "I think that's the only way we'll ever get this started," Beth said. "Great!" laughed Jake. "Okay... uh... why don't the two of you take a seat?" We did as Jake commanded, taking the two leftmost seats in Jake's row of six. "Those needles look kind of dangerous," I said warily. "Don't worry," Jake said, affecting a Romanian mad-scientist voice. "I won't feel a thing." With that, he pushed a button on the rear of both our seats and the helmets descended over our heads. A hidden visor descended and covered both of my eyes so that all I could see was total blackness. I felt a cool spray being vented all over my head-some kind of local anesthetic, I guess-and then a strange, tickly sensation as the network of needles entered my scalp. Jake's jokes aside, he was correct; the experience was completely painless. "Are you still there, Beth?" I asked. "Yes." "How do you feel?" "A little bit scared. You?" "Scared, but more of it's excitement," I said. "We're ready to go," said Jake. "Countdown!" "What are you going to do while we're in the movie?" I called out to him? "Watch it?" "No," he said, a little poutily. "I haven't figured out a way to watch while other people play at the same time. I'm just going to be over here working on my water-fueled car, okay?" Beth and I laughed because it sounded like a joke, but I suspected Jake wasn't joking. If he could turn Beth into Godzilla, I imagined inventing a water-powered car would be easily within his reach. "Five!" Jake called out. "Four! Three! Two! One! SHOWTIME!" *** The first thing I sensed when my vision cleared was the smell of sea air and the feel of the floor rolling underneath my feet. At first I thought it was dizziness associated with entering the movie, but then I realized that I was on some kind of a ship. I looked up, and saw that I was on an old-fashioned three-masted schooner in the middle of the ocean. It was uncanny-everything looked, smelled and felt completely like reality. Even better than reality; everything looked like it existed in the rich, detailed Technicolor of expensive Hollywood movies. I standing right at the bow of this majestic ship, and sitting on the prow in front of me was a little blond curly-haired boy in a rather silly-looking suit and a cap on his head. I was about to speak when I heard a voice calling out from behind me. When I turned around, I saw a man with a mustache coming towards us. He looked extremely ordinary in every way except that he seemed like a giant as he approached-I barely came up to his chest. In my confusion, I kept quiet as he spoke to us. "Come back here this minute!" he cried out. "And be careful!" Mutely, the two of us obeyed. It was the way Jake had described it; I wasn't conscious of wanting to move my legs at all, but I was moving them anyway, walking towards this incredibly tall man. "What's gotten into you, Richard?" he said, speaking to the boy as he climbed back to safety from the prow. "It's bad enough to endanger yourself, but to encourage Emmaline!" He said that last sentence while putting his arm around me, and it was then that I began to feel a certain... wrongness about the whole situation. Emmaline? That sure didn't sound right. The man and the boy began talking about sailing to San Francisco, but I was barely paying attention to them as I looked down at myself for the first time and got the shock of my life. I was wearing a dress! A small, old-fashioned white dress with stockings and a pair of small white shoes. I looked at my hands and couldn't believe the tiny fingers and tinier fingernails that now appeared at the end of my arms. Panicking now, but for some reason feeling obligated not to make a scene in front of the man, I felt my head and my chest. I had a wide-brimmed hat on my head tied to my chin with a white ribbon-I could feel it tugging with every gust of the ocean wind. My chest was small and flat and as I surreptitiously pressed my legs together, I could feel the void that now existed between them. I was a girl; and judging from my height, I was maybe ten or eleven years old at the most. As I fought to control my rising emotions, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that the slightly taller little boy standing beside me was performing the same sorts of surreptitious self-examination, looking down at his body, feeling the contours of his face and sticking a hand in his pocket and groping sideways, thinking no one would notice what he was doing, to see if he could feel his penis. Could it be? I waited until the man finished talking to us and the boy and I were alone. "Beth?" I asked him. "Is... is that you?" "Doug?" the boy said with a grin on his face. He nearly collapsed with laughter. "Aren't you the sweetest looking thing?" "Very funny-" "And that cunning hat!" he said. "Oh, and look at your sweet little shoes! You're the prettiest little girl on the ship, I bet!" I put my hands on my hips and made a pathetic attempt to look menacing. "Well, you don't look all that impressive yourself," I said. "What's so wrong with me?" Beth replied serenely. "I'm a boy. There's nothing wrong with that!" "Well... well..." I said, trying desperately to look for a flaw. "Your hair! You have the silliest looking curly hair I've ever seen on a boy!" "You call that an insult?" she said with a smile, obviously revelling in my embarrassment. "What about that darling head of hair you have? Oh, and I just love the navy-blue piping on that dress of yours..." "Knock it off," I said. "What happened? How come I'm a little girl instead of, like, James Bond or the Road Warrior or something?" "I don't know," Beth said. "Jake said he was going to have the computer pick out a movie at random. Maybe it picked our roles at random, too." "But what movie is this?" I asked. "What's going to happen to us?" "Beats me. You're the movie trivia expert," Beth the eleven- year-old boy said with a cute little smirk. "Let's look in our pockets, see if there's anything with our names on it. That might give us a clue." "This dress doesn't have pockets," I said crossly. "Well, this one does," Beth replied. "And look what's in them!" She pulled out a stack of photographs. I moved over to look at them with her and saw that it was a collection of pictures of naked ladies-the Victorian kind, fleshy women in vaguely artistic poses. "What a dirty-minded little kid," Beth said as she sorted through them before pausing thoughtfully. "Hey... Doug," she said. "You won't believe this... ooooh... I think I'm getting a little bit of an, an, an erection here just looking at these things..." She began curiously but cautiously stroking her penis through her pants while I flopped onto a nearby crate. "Control yourself," I said disgustedly. It was ridiculous; here we were, my wife of fifteen years and myself, on a cruise somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, except she was the one getting an erection looking at scantily clad women and I was the one wearing pretty, frilly new clothes. I looked up at the sky, furious with Beth and with Jake that I should be put into such a humiliating position, when suddenly a horrifying thought occurred to me. "Oh my God..." I said, suddenly sitting bolt upright. "What," Beth asked distractedly. "Quit groping yourself, you pervert," I said. (Damn! Why did my voice have to sound so high and girlish?) "Do you know what movie this is?" "No." "With the boy with the naked pictures?" I asked. "Oh my God... I remember all this! Do you know what this is? This is The Blue Lagoon!" Beth stopped and stared in shock. "You're kidding." "It's The Blue Lagoon," I repeated. "That idiot Jake has put us in the middle of The Blue Lagoon! And I'm..." Beth grinned and then couldn't hold the laughter back any longer. "You mean you're Brooke Shields?" she said. "Well, obviously not," I said, gesturing down at myself. "I'm the girl who plays Brooke Shields's character at the start of the movie. `Emmaline.' But I'm going to turn into her if we don't do something quick. And you're going to turn into..." I paused. Beth snapped her fingers distractedly. "Oooh," she said. "What was his name?" "William something?" I asked. "Willie?" "No," Beth replied. "You're thinking of Willie Aames. He looks a lot like him, but it's a different guy. He was in the ripoff of The Blue Lagoon with Phoebe Cates. Paradise." "Well, whatever his name is, you're going to turn into him eventually if we don't do something." "What can we do?" Beth asked. "Jake can't hear us. What did he say? We just have to..." I finished the sentence along with her, a sinking feeling developing in my stomach. "...ride the story out to the end." "You mean, we're going to wind up on a deserted island together?" Beth asked. "All alone?" "Let me think, let me think," I said. A gust of wind threatened to pull my hat off my head and without thinking I held it down with my hand. "There's a storm... no! A fire! A fire breaks out on board and we get put into a lifeboat! We have to warn the captain! If we can warn him in time, we won't have to wind up on the island!" "But Doug," Beth said. "Jake said we can't change the plot. We just have to go along with it. There's nothing we can do." "Hey," I replied urgently. "There's no way I'm spending the next few years as a girl, as BROOKE SHIELDS no less, running around a deserted island without any clothes on. I'm warning the captain!" "Uh, Doug..." "What?" Beth was pointing to a couple of plumes of smoke wafting out of a grate a few yards away. "I think you're too late," she said. I stared at the smoke in horror and my little-girl face drained of all colour. I said the only thing I could think of as dimly remembered shards of the Blue Lagoon plotline-the beach, Brooke Shields, no clothes, all that naked swimming and kissing and hugging, sex, getting pregnant, for crying out loud! Getting pregnant and having a baby!-ran through my head. "Shit." Suddenly, pandemonium broke out around us. Crew members were running everywhere and the deck was clogged with smoke as the fire began raging out of control. Before we knew it, a burly man with a beard and mustache was behind us, telling us to hurry along. Unthinkingly, we obeyed, and he guided us to where the lifeboats were hanging on the starboard side of the ship. "Up you go!" he cried, scooping me up in his arms and depositing me gently in the lifeboat. "Hey!" I shouted. "Watch it!" It was tremendously embarrassing to be lifted up by a man so easily and treated with such delicacy, but at the same time, it was also nice to know my new body made me probably one of the first passengers the crew would try and save. He scooped up Beth and then climbed into the lifeboat along with us. Flames were licking at the deck and he had no choice but to release the boat into the water. I couldn't help but let out a tiny girlish squeal as we fell through the air and crashed onto the ocean surface and I cursed myself inwardly as the burly man gave me an indulgent, reassuring smile, as if to say, "Don't worry your pretty little head, sweetie. Everything's going to be all right." Smoke was billowing across the water and I could barely see the man at the other end of the boat rowing us to safety from the burning, collapsing ship, let alone any other lifeboats. The man called out at the top of his lungs to see if any other boats were within earshot, but no one answered that we could hear. Almost as an unconscious gesture, Beth put her arm around me, as if to comfort me, as we sat together in the stern of that lonely little lifeboat. "We're in for it now," I whispered to her, staring down at the dainty white sleeves of my pretty little dress and the girl's leather shoes on my feet, the wind whipping the tresses of my long, beautiful hair. "We're really in for it now. The Blue Lagoon," I said over and over to myself. Of all the movies in the history of entertainment, why did we have to wind up in The Blue Lagoon?" *** We sailed in that little boat for what seemed like weeks. I'm sure it was only days, but there was so little to occupy our time that each hour seemed as long as a particularly uneventful day in and of itself. It was frustrating not being able to talk freely with Beth in front of the man, Mr. Button; every time I dropped the role of pretty little Emmaline and spoke like the forty-year-old man I actually was, asking Beth questions about what I could expect from this new body of mine, Mr. Button would scowl and say how questions about female genitalia and breast development were unbecoming a civilized young lady. At his low moments, Mr. Button would quietly mumble to himself, "We're doomed, we're doomed, we'll never find land." To which I always gloomily replied as I plucked awkwardly at my skirts, "Don't worry. I'm positive we will." Actually, I was still having difficulty coming to terms with being transformed, however temporarily, into a girl. It was only because the heat of the sun was so very intense that I finally agreed to remove my dress and sit in the boat dressed in my very modest underthings. The first sight I got of my toothpick arms and my broomstick legs (or so they seemed to me-I still made a point of weight training or cycling every day back in the real world and was very proud of my old body's powerful thighs and well-developed biceps) was a humiliating shock. There was no dignified way for me to urinate while on board the lifeboat; instead, I would dive into the water, holding onto the boat by a rope (after we had scanned the area for sharks), lift up my skirt and, well, let fly into the water. Beth thought this was hilarious; she and Mr. Button were doing some male bonding and sometimes would both stand side by side and pee off the bow of the lifeboat into the ocean. Beth couldn't get over that new penis of hers, or her new body. She spent as much time as she could stripped to the waist and helping Mr. Button row when there wasn't enough wind to catch our sails. She was only eleven, but Mr. Button taught her how to handle the oars, and she did a respectable job of navigating her way through the water. I never said any of this out loud, of course; I was too busy fuming over the way Mr. Button refused to let me help row, too, since I was a girl. (Me, onetime member of the university rowing team!) "Your hair's blowing all over the place," said Beth, smiling at me from her place beside Mr. Button at the oars. "Why don't you try putting it into some pigtails so it doesn't bother you so much?" At long last, we found an island, and Mr. Button excitedly climbed out of the boat. (To my annoyance, he allowed Beth to climb out on her own, but picked me up around my waist, without my asking, and lifted me out onto the beach.) The island was as beautiful as I remembered it from watching the movie all those years ago: parrots, turtles, exotic sea life, tall palm trees... We began exploring, and I had to beg the two men to wait up for me a couple of times-it was hard making my way even through the light jungle in my dainty shoes and my skirts. We found a waterfall that spilled into a pleasant little pool and Beth and Mr. Button dove in immediately. I sat alone by the side of the pool. Already my one dress was starting to fray, I noticed. How much longer would I be able to wear it before I was forced to run around without it? I didn't know which was worse: wearing this very feminine outfit or wearing nothing at all, and leaving no aspect of my femininity to anyone else's imagination. I was just as melancholy after the swim as Mr. Button and Beth climbed to the top of the highest cliff on the island and gazed out at the horizon. "You won't find anything," I said. "Oh, don't say that, Miss," Mr. Button said cheerfully. "A ship's bound to sail by here any day now and rescue us!" "Don't fucking count on it," I replied under my breath as Beth, who was close enough to hear me, stifled a laugh. *** Maybe it was the nature of life on the island, or maybe it was a side effect of the director's fondness for montage sequences, but the next few weeks seemed to fly by very quickly for us. Mr. Button built us a crude shelter near the beach, he taught us which berries on the island were poisonous and which were safe to eat, he showed Beth how to fish and he took us for jogs along the sand. Eventually, the sheer facts of life on a desert island made my bashfulness about my clothes and my new body began to seem a little silly. The shoes were impractical to wear for all the climbing and exploring we had to do, and the stockings quickly wore holes in them and became useless, forcing me to run about barelegged. Beth had taken to wearing just an undershirt and shorts at most almost from day one; eventually I simply couldn't take the intense heat any more myself and for most of the day wore not much more than a simple white cotton shift that left my arms bare as well as my legs. When Mr. Button wasn't around, Beth and I spoke conspiratorially, all the conversation we had to keep bottled up all day long gushing out in one great torrent. Wasn't this the strangest experience of your life? Had you gotten used to being so little yet? How big were my hands and feet compared to hers? (Much smaller, it turned out; Beth took a great deal of delight in her sudden size advantage compared to myself.) We would wrestle playfully in the sand, and I have to admit, it was fascinating to feel how much softer and tenderer my skin was now compared to Beth's. We would go swimming together, holding hands like a pair of innocent lovers- Beth finally convinced me to dive into the ocean naked along with her and as we stood together before diving into the water, we marvelled at our changed physiques. Me, so small and hairless and delicate, with my long wavy hair demurely covering my nipples; Beth, so youthfully handsome, her muscles just barely beginning to develop, her penis beginning to stir helplessly merely at the sight of me. We dove underwater and looked in amazement at the exotic fish, picking up starfish and gazing at the sunlight refracting into brilliant colours against the coral. When we resurfaced, Mr. Button caught sight of the two of us, naked, and ran after us, demanding that we put our clothes back on. It must have been a scene that was originally in the movie, because I found myself calling out, "I don't want to put my clothes on!" as I ran away from him down the beach. But in fact, I didn't. The movie dialogue spoke the truth. *** The three of us became very close. It was ridiculous and I couldn't believe it. I knew The Blue Lagoon was a lousy movie; I made fun of it for hours after seeing it during its original run at the theatres, but now that I was living through it, I was amazed at how much genuine fondness I felt for Mr. Button. This middle-aged man suddenly cut off from all his friends and family, trapped on a deserted island with two young children he'd never had any previous emotional attachment with. And yet he took care of us, protected us, fed us and entertained us better, I suspected, than any father could have. Certainly better than my father did me, that's for sure. I knew in the back of my mind from seeing the movie originally that Mr. Button died at some point, but I couldn't remember where, and so the morning when Beth and I discovered his body lying on the beach, with that crab crawling out of his mouth, it was a genuine shock. He may have been a fictional character, but he was like family to me. I cried and cried and cried, and found it a comfort to be a girl and be able to let my emotions out in such a torrent. Beth took it even harder than I did; she had never seen The Blue Lagoon before and wouldn't let me tell her about anything that was going to happen to us because she didn't want me "spoiling the plot." But she still thought I should have warned her about Mr. Button's death, especially, of course, since she had to be the one to discover his body. Not that there was anything we could have done about it. I think she was speaking out of anger and grief, though; after a couple of hours, we agreed to dig Mr. Button a grave together and that seemed to mend the rift. (It took forever; we were still only about twelve years old, and Leo McKern, who played Mr. Button in the movie, was a hugely fat old character actor.) Life went on for us. With Mr. Button gone, we were at least free to talk like ourselves but by this point, we found we were so deeply immersed into our roles that we habitually addressed each other as "Emmaline" and "Richard." One day, I received a shock. We were swimming in the lagoon, as was our habit, the sun brilliant blue overhead and the water brilliant blue around us when I felt a sudden change sweep over my body. It was such a shock that I almost forgot myself and inhaled a noseful of water-and I remembered that in the original movie, the transition between the young actress playing Emmaline as a young girl and when Brooke Shields assumed the role occurred during a montage swimming sequence, one that occurred shortly after Mr. Button's death. That must have been what had happened to me, I thought, and I swam back to the surface to see if my guess was right. I swam on my back and gazed down at myself. It was hard to tell from the water just how completely I had changed, but it was obvious some significant changes had occurred. Suddenly, my gawky prepubescent body was replaced by a long, lean body with the most beautiful golden all-over tan I had ever seen in my life. I had breasts now, firm, perfectly shaped breasts and my hair had become longer than ever; it seemed to reach all the way down to my ass. And I had pubic hair now as well-finally! I don't know why, but it had always embarrassed me, even after I had gotten over every other psychological hurdle, to look down between my legs and see such a hairless nothing sitting there. I felt the curve of my hip and the swell of my breasts and I have to admit, the sensation was something approaching awe to suddenly possess such a perfect-yes! perfect! flawless!-young woman's body. I was young and fresh and infinitely desirable and as I floated in the middle of the lagoon. We were cut completely off from the rest of humanity, and I felt momentarily like the queen of everything I surveyed. My reverie was broken when Beth surfaced beside me, splashing me playfully with her hands. "Hey!" she said. "Look what happened! I grew up in, like, five seconds flat!" She was a dead ringer for that actor neither of us could remember the name of. I had always thought of him as a curly- haired, kissy-faced little twerp, but I was surprised now to find him, well, kind of handsome-the boy of my dreams, even. And I realized that if Beth now looked exactly like whatsisname the actor, then I must look exactly like Brooke Shields. Now, I had never been a Brooke Shields fan-you've got to believe me on that point. I mean, has anyone ever been a Brooke Shields fan? Even before that lousy sitcom of hers, Suddenly Susan, (terrible title!) premiered a few seasons ago? But you've got to give the woman this much: in her prime, in her jailbait, teenaged, Endless Love/Blue Lagoon/"Nothing comes between me and my Calvins" days, Brooke Shields was just about the hottest thing going. A teenager, with that gorgeous young body but with that strange, knowing, adult, catlike face-as long as she didn't talk and disrupt the whole spell with that toneless, dull, uninflected voice of hers, she was a kind of homegrown American goddess. And now I looked exactly like her. I treaded water and looked in amazement at Beth, my handsome "boyfriend" in the water of the Blue Lagoon next to me, trying to remain calm as my stomach performed one flip-flop after another. Finally, Beth broke the silence. "Too bad this is such a slow- moving movie, huh?" she said. "I've been waiting forever for this to happen to you." "How- how do I look?" I asked. "Beautiful," my wife replied. "I can't believe it. You're Brooke Shields, a naked, teenaged Brooke Shields. And I can't believe how horny the sight of you is making me." I felt myself blushing. "Well, that body could be me or it could be the body double. I'm not sure which. Anyway, you're not too bad yourself," I said, touching her firm chest with the tips of my fingers. "And can you believe we're the only two people for literally miles around?" "What mischief do you think we should get up to?" Beth said coyly, sliding herself closer. I closed my eyes; I could feel her erection under the water up against my thigh. I wanted her so badly; I could feel my pussy almost aching with the desire to be filled-I couldn't believe these thoughts were storming through my head by the millions, but they were. It was as if I'd spent my whole life as a woman, growing up next to this man... and in a way I had! Oh! Oh! Oh! Beth had her hand on my breast... she was about to enter me... I could feel every nerve in my body starting to turn electric... Oh! Oh! Oh!... ...And suddenly we on land again. Beth was in the beach house with a pan pipe in her hands and I was a few yards away, topless, wearing nothing but a sheet tied loosely around my waist, picking a mango off a tree. We looked around, found where each other was standing and blinked in astonishment. "What happened?" Beth said. "We were just about to..." "I know," I replied. "I can't believe it either." "Didn't you want to? Is that what's going on?" "No," I said. "Believe me, I wanted it every bit as bad as you. I can't believe I'm saying that, but I did." "Then why are we back here?" I pondered the question silently for a few moments, tossing the mango idly from hand to hand, and then at long last the lightbulb went on. "Oh, wait," I said. "I know what happened." "What? Did the scene end or something?" "No. I just remembered. We don't have sex yet." "What do you mean, we don't have sex yet?" "We don't. Remember what Jake said, how we have to follow the plot of the movie?" "Yeah." "Well, the two kids in the movie don't have sex until later on." "What? How much later on? I've got a hard-on for you now!" "I don't remember. A fair bit later on." Beth kicked the sand in amazement. "You mean, this movie has two hot kids running around naked on a deserted island together, and they put off fucking until later? What kind of idiot wrote this movie?" "I don't know," I said. "I should have been paying closer attention to those credits over our heads when we first got into this situation. In any case, it looks like we're going to have to wait." Beth was almost speechless with frustration. Finally, she stomped, naked, up to the highest cliff on the island and stood there, gazing out into the vast sea as the sunset, beautifully captured by the film's master cinematographer, Nestor Almendros, sank in front of her. I stood behind her, the most beautiful, desirable, unclothed and (for now) unattainable woman in the world as Beth raised her arms to the sky in mock-anger, her erection also sticking skyward, as she screamed, "GODDAMN YOU, HOLLYWOOD!!!" *** The next few scenes were embarrassing to live through. I had to start staring all yearningly and girlishly at Beth's muscles as she made repairs to the beach shelter like a teenybopper at a Backstreet Boys poster. I was attracted to her, sure, but I disliked being attracted to her whenever the movie told me to be, and having to express my attraction in such mute, immature ways. It felt like my emotions were a puppet on a string-a distinctly uncomfortable feeling. And I had to sing an off-key version of "O Little Town of Bethlehem" along with Beth in the goopy scene where the two castaways celebrate Christmas together, kneeling in front of a makeshift Christmas tree in their beach house. And I had to have my first period while swimming in a secluded lake, and it was so mortifying that I found myself going on automatic pilot for the first time in ages and going along with the script as Emmaline yells at Richard when he tries stupidly to understand what's going on. When were these two going to have sex? we both wondered. How much longer is it going to take for them to jump each other's bones?! The movie wouldn't even allow us to masturbate, and Beth was coming down with perhaps the worst case of blue balls in all of recorded history. At one point, I thought it was going to happen-it was a scene where I was teasing Beth and she began chasing me along the beach. Our hearts both started beating faster as we found ourselves wrestling on the sand, with me finally winding up on my back and Beth at long last sitting on top of me. Beth went on automatic pilot and began fiddling with the buttons on my ragged dress and I wriggled happily beneath her, sure that this would be the moment. But it wasn't. I could see the look of helplessness in Beth's eyes as the script forced her to finally let me go and walk away from me down the beach, brushing the sand off her palms. There was moment after moment that seemed unmistakably like the opening moments of a sex scene-we would go swimming naked in the lagoon while the moonlight made our bodies and all the fish around us seem to glow with an iridescent blue hue. Or a playful bit of wrestling would imperceptibly segue into a playful couple of kisses. Or Beth would come to me in the middle of the night and begin kissing me on the shoulder. But no! The swim would end, Beth would lose interest in kissing, or-unbelievably! those Blue Lagoon screenwriting motherfuckers!-I would be forced against the impulse of every screaming neuron in my body to push Beth away from me and go back to sleep. Were the makers of The Blue Lagoon the most perverse sadists in all of Hollywood? I began even to doubt my own memories of the original film-the two of them did wind up having sex, didn't they? Beth wondered the same thing. "We do wind up having sex, don't we?" she asked me at one point. "I'm pretty sure we do," I replied, uncertainty clouding my voice. Beth responded with a strangled scream-"Pretty sure?!?"- she returned to the lagoon and began angrily spearing fish for dinner. I had noticed that Beth and I were becoming completely comfortable with the most stereotypical aspects of our new sexual roles. Beth enjoyed playing the strong he-man, and her joy at her newfound liberation matched the character's immaturity perfectly. And myself... well, I enjoyed letting Beth play the provider and the protector. I busied myself making small repairs to our clothes with a makeshift needle and thread, cooking our evening dinners and tidying about the beach house. We both realized our behaviour was dictated more by the movie's backward plot than anything in our, you know, deeply sophisticated and sexually liberated minds, but there was a certain pleasure to be had in retreating into society's worst and most outmoded sexual stereotypes. How could I do otherwise in this magnificent female body? Even if Jake's device would have allowed me to, I don't think I would have wanted to spear fish or build boats and houses. I enjoyed wearing my seashell necklace and walking through the jungle, my hips swaying from side to side topless in a handmade skirt, or sitting on a flat rock by the seashore, sunning my long golden limbs and brushing my beautiful long hair with a comb we had brought with us, along with a few other comically luxurious grooming items, in a trunk in the lifeboat. God, I thought as I reclined gracefully on the rock looking in wonderment at my scantily clad body, even my feet are perfect! I rubbed one foot with the sole of the other and watched Beth a few yards away, standing in the surf with her spear. I had groaned inwardly a few scenes earlier at having to make goo-goo eyes at Beth's muscular body, but now I found myself admiring it all the time and gently stroking my breast with the underside of my thumb as I did so. I hated to admit it, but maybe having my first period really did make a difference. "Well, Doug, you're a woman now," Beth had joked when I finally told her what had happened, but maybe she was right. *** It was a day like any other. (The Blue Lagoon is nothing if not a monotonous movie.) Beth and I spent the entire afternoon swimming naked in the ocean, doing somersaults underwater and exploring the beautiful sights that existed on our island, just outside of plain view. Soon we were tired and we walked into the jungle to find something to eat. My long hair was plastered to my back; I had come to take a kind of pride in my hair and was glad there wasn't a scene where I got it cut. (Besides, if I cut it, what would the filmmakers have used instead to cover up my breasts?) We found a glade in the forest and agreed to split a mango. Beth ate it sloppily, the juice running down her chin. I watched her with amusement-she had always been a finicky, painfully neat eater in real life, but inhabiting this teenaged boy's body seemed to have brought out the vulgarian in her. (I noticed she also enjoyed making farting noises and peeing wherever she pleased.) Suddenly, Beth stopped eating and looked at me with great seriousness in her eyes. "Kiss me," she said. I laughed at her earnestness. "You're all sticky," I said, hardly noticing that I was on automatic pilot as I did so. "So what? Kiss me." I shrugged, crawled over to where she was sitting and gave her a peck on the lips. To my amazement, she grabbed me gently by the back of my head and began mashing her lips against mine. "Stop it!" I squealed. "I can't breathe!" But Beth just smiled playfully. She began kissing me again as I lay backwards onto the jungle floor. Beth squeezed the mango rind, letting its juice drip onto my body. "What are you doing?" I said, wriggling girlishly as Beth climbed on top of me and continued kissing my face and neck and lips. It felt so good and I was getting so excited that I almost felt despair-would this turn out to be another false alarm like the dozen or so other false alarms that had come before us in this stupid, bizarrely sexless movie my wife and I had landed ourselves in the middle of? But it wasn't. Beth continued kissing me as I squirmed happily under her now much stronger influence and after a few more kisses, there was a pause. I looked up at Beth and she looked wonderingly down at me. It was as if we both realized at the same time that the moment that seemed as though it would never come... had come at last. Here, after what seemed like five, six years of growing up side by side, here in these beautiful altered bodies of ours, here after falling in love with each other all over again, the movie was finally going to allow us to consummate our newfound passion for each other. I licked a smear of mango juice from my lower lip and asked Beth, "Are you ready?" "Am I ever," she said. "Are you, Emmaline?" What would Brooke Shields say in a situation like this? What did she tell Andre Agassi? I couldn't imagine, and so I settled for a clich?, since, after all, clich?s seemed to fit in well with the whole spirit of the movie. "Take me," I said, gently opening my legs. It was glorious. We could hear the orchestral score of the film as performed by the London Symphony Orchestra playing in our ears in perfect stereophonic sound as we coupled there on the jungle floor, our perfect, beautifully lit bodies joining in perfectly edited union. It was movie sex, which as Beth and I soon discovered, is a hundred times more perfect and graceful and satisfying and romantic and passionate than any kind of sex in the workaday normal world. We came three times each, all three times simultaneously, in thundering orgasms that made me shudder all the way to my toes. Beth was the perfect combination of gentleness and forcefulness; I was the perfect combination of tigress and virgin and we were both ten times more handsome and beautiful and physically graceful than anybody real. How can I describe the boundless ecstasy of that single bout of movie sex to you, reader? Maybe the best way is just to put it simply: it was more than worth the wait. Beth and I grinned happily at each other when it was all over like the pair of goofy teenaged kids we now were and kissed and hugged and felt more in love with each other than ever. Brooke Shields, at least when I'm controlling her body, is one hell of a lay. *** Did you know there's a scene in The Blue Lagoon where, after the two kids have sex, they go swimming and see a pair of turtles having sex? And Brooke Shields points to the two of them and she and her lover share a private look, as if to say, "Wow... they're just like us"? Well, there is. And let me tell you, even when you actually are Brooke Shields, it still feels like the dopiest scene in movie history. *** Well, after that, the floodgates were open. It seemed like all Beth and I did anymore was have sex. Sex in the water, sex on land, sex on the sand, sex on the jungle. (That actor, whatsisname, may not look like it, but he's got one hell of a big cock.) Who can blame us? It was movie sex all the time! I knew that Emmaline became pregnant later on in the movie, but I also knew that it was useless trying to get around that fact. It seemed like a small price to pay for movie sex practically 18 hours a day. Soon, as I predicted, my belly began to swell up. I have kind of a thing for pregnant bellies, a what do you call it? A fetish. And it was all I could do to stay away from reflecting pools staring at Brooke Shields's gorgeous young body with that enormous swollen belly added to it. It was harder for me to get around, but I felt even more beautiful than ever, and Beth treated me with a touching amount of tenderness. We were going to have a baby-we thought it was too late, we thought it was never going to happen, and now, like a miracle... it was. I had always pictured myself as the father and Beth as the mother but in this strange new technological age, it appeared that nothing was a certainty anymore. I sat in our beach house, naked and unashamed, stroking my belly while Beth rubbed my shoulders and my feet until it became late and our eyelids got heavy and we climbed into bed, spooning, with Beth's strong arm draped across my chest. She would snore loudly and scratch her balls in the middle of a dream and I laughed indulgently at her coarse "male" habits. When the baby finally arrived, it was painful, but not as painful as I thought it would be. (Maybe I had a movie childbirth, too.) I think Beth went through an equal amount of psychological pain, if you can call it that, both from feeling helpless to do anything as I went through my labour, as well as from a sense that she should be the one having the child. Those thoughts seemed to only last for a little while, though, and soon Beth was smiling with fascination and delight as she watched me breastfeed our young child. (Menstruation, sex, childbirth and breastfeeding: now I felt ready for anything! No science fiction movie Jake could have selected for us could have given me experiences stranger than these.) *** I'm sure you remember the end of the movie. The man from the opening scene is Beth, or, rather, "Richard"'s father, my uncle, and he's been searching the seas for years hoping to find us again. We see the ship and trying sailing towards it along with our infant son, but we lose the oar and wind up adrift, unable to swim back to our island paradise or even retrieve the oar because of the sharks swimming around our boat. We sail for days and days and finally we give up hope, "Richard" and I, and we swallow some poisonous berries so that we may die together. Of course, it's just after we die that my uncle spots our boat and tries to rescue us, but only manages to save our son. Pretty ironic, huh? Well, I guess it seemed very Romeo and Juliet tragic to a lot of teenaged girls. And it seemed kind of sad to Beth and me, too, when we popped those sour-tasting berries into our mouths and let blackness overtake us. It was very painless. When we came to, we were back in Jake's laboratory. A beep sounded over our heads to notify Jake that the movie was over, and he immediately hurried to our side to take the helmets off. They left no mark, to my amazement. "Well? Well? Well?" he said, grinning. "Amazing, right? Totally like you were there, right? I can tell! I can tell! You're still looking kind of dazed, right? So? Who were you? What movie did you see?" I looked groggily down at my body. It was the same as I'd left it, a forty-year-old male body, still in shape, but male. I felt oddly disappointed. I looked next to me, and there was Beth. She looked old; I'd gotten used to seeing her all handsome and youthful as Richard. "Uh..." I said, looking up at Jake. "Days of Thunder." "Oooh, good one!" Jake said. "Race cars! Romance! Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman, right? Very excellent!" "Yeah," said Beth, laughing slightly. "Very excellent." We were very quiet, Beth and me, on the drive back home. It was a lot to take in; it was like we'd spent six years in other people's bodies, in bodies of the opposite sexes-we'd fallen in love, had a family, even-even though it had actually only taken less than two hours. Finally, I broke the silence. "Thank God it wasn't One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest," I said. Beth laughed. "Or Blue Velvet." she said. We cracked each other up, naming movies we were glad not to have to live through first-hand: Midnight Express. Night of the Living Dead. They Shoot Horses, Don't They? My Left Foot. Natural Born Killers. I looked at Beth as I drove. Why, she didn't look old at all. Laughing and smiling like that, she looked as lovely as she ever did. "Did I ever tell you how much I love you?" I asked. "Sure," Beth said, "but tell me again." "I'm not sure if I even said it in the... the movie," I said haltingly. "I'm not sure I can find the words for it now. But I do. I love you like the whole world." "It just took turning into Brooke Shields for five or six years for you to realize it, though, huh?" "That's about the size of it," I laughed. "I love you, too," she said. "And if it took growing a cock and getting you knocked up to prove it, then so be it." We made love-in the proper bodies-three times that night. And while it may not have been movie sex, it was about as good as anything in the real world ever gets. The next morning, we made arrangement to take a leave of absence from our college and go on an extended vacation together. "Where would you like to go?" asked the travel agent. We looked across the table at her, a bright chipper woman with a nametag that read `BROOKE.' We looked at each other, and we told her, almost in unison, "The tropics." The End