Fantasy Island Anniversary Gift
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For My Queen: A Fantasy Island Story free porn video
For My Queen: A Fantasy Island Story
On an island somewhere in the Pacific Ocean...
On what usually might be a relaxing morning, the unseasonably cool
winds breezing across the cay seemed to yell for attention, almost
drowning out the roar of the seaplane as it soared in approach over the
Island. A small, exuberant man clad in a white suit stood overhead in
the entrance cupola and pointed at the aircraft.
"The Plane! The Plane!" Tattoo shouted in his typical near-playful way.
He hurried down and actually strolled gaily over to the tall, similarly
attired man and pulled at his jacket.
"The Plane, Boss." He pointed as the Widgeon set down on the water and
taxied up to the pier. Roarke smiled at his friend and turned to the
folks who waved in greeting as the plane stopped.
"Smiles, everyone! Smiles!" The greeters hardly needed the prompt, as
everyone always enjoyed welcoming every guest. Roarke nodded in
approval and returned his attention to Tattoo, who waved and then
pointed as only one passenger disembarked.
"Yes, Tattoo. Much different than an ordinary arrival. Just one guest.
This, my friend, is Kellan Patterson. You'll notice he is
unaccompanied." Tattoo returned his attention to the slight looking
figure that approached them.
"All alone, Boss?"
"For the moment, Tattoo. Only for the moment."
"What is his fantasy, boss?"
"Well, that's a good question, but you see, that's why he is alone. It
is not only his fantasy, but unbeknownst to him, that of another," he
said, leaving Tattoo somewhat confused. Roarke nodded as Kellan
Patterson walked up and offered his hand.
"Welcome, Kellan Patterson, to Fantasy Island." Roarke shook Kellan's
hand before urging him toward a small group of women.
"As we discussed? Your fantasy is to be in a romantic adventure much in
the same manner as the Swashbuckler movies of the 1940s you enjoyed
watching as a child. Everything is ready and these ladies will help you
fulfill your fantasy."
Roarke nodded to the three women who stepped forward; who, rather than
being garbed in typical tropical attire, instead wore long dresses
after the fashion of medieval ladies-in-waiting. All three stepped
closer and bowed silently. Kellan glanced at the women and something
struck him as almost familiar, but he turned to Tattoo, who had tugged
on Kellan's jacket sleeve to bring his attention to Roarke.
"I've wished for something like this all my life, Mr. Roarke." Kellan's
demeanor seemed nervous; even almost agitated. Nevertheless, he smiled
at both of them and continued.
"I am looking forward to this adventure. Thank you."
At his words, the young ladies took Kellan by the hand and escorted him
down the path in the direction of a brightly colored row of guest
cottages.
"Did you notice anything, Tattoo?" Roarke asked as he used his arm in a
broad gesture toward Kellan and the young ladies as they disappeared
out of sight.
"He...looks unhappy, Boss." Tattoo sighed.
"Yes, my friend. Even though he is looking forward to his fantasy being
fulfilled, like some, perhaps even many who come here, Kellan Patterson
really does not know what he wants. It is why he is alone."
"I am sad that he has no one." Tattoo frowned and lowered his head
slightly.
"Ah, a very kind thought, Tattoo. But he is not alone. Someone wants
him to live the fantasy of his dreams is also here. But unlike Kellan,
the one who hopes on his behalf knows exactly what they both want."
"What is that, Boss?"
"That Kellan Patterson would finally be happy...."
A short while later...
As he walked further down the path, Kellan noticed that rather than to
any of the guest cottages, the ladies had ushered him onto a path that
instead seemed to segue into what looked like a very accurate
duplication of a Medieval castle. In a few moments, they stood on a low
stone terrace outside what looked to be a very elaborate personal
chamber.
"Here are your accommodations. May I call you Kellan?" one of the young
women asked as they all stepped inside.
"Uh...yes....I'll have another name for the fantasy?"
The young woman didn't answer even as one of the others thrust a pewter
goblet into his hands.
"With such a long trip, this may help you relax?"
She urged the drink closer, and practically helped it to his lips. As
he downed it, the third young lady spoke.
"T'is but a spiced drink not unlike Mead," she smiled as she received
the empty goblet.
"Thou might feel sleepy." They then ushered him further into the room
and toward a very comfortable looking bed. As they led him, he looked
around and noticed the room was decorated in a manner befitting a
princess or even a Queen.
"There must be some mistake," he said even as they sat him down on the
bed. He lay back, almost reluctantly even as he became drowsy. He
couldn't help but notice the tone of their voices and even their words
seemed to morph into what could only be described as something akin to
a Hollywood take on Medieval English.
"Your fantasy awaits Thee," the second one said as the other two
slipped off his shoes and covered him with a soft, downy comforter.
"I...I..." Kellan murmured as sleep began to overtake him. He peered at
the three and tried to speak further, but the words never came. He
looked at them through sleepy eyes even as they spoke, almost in
unison.
"Until the morrow, rest Thee well...Your Majesty..."
The following morning...
"Would you like a brief repast?"
Kellan raised his head and found one of the young women was pointing
with her arm to a meal that had been placed on a table not too far from
the bedside. He went to sit up but found himself still a bit groggy
from the drink from the night before, or so he thought. He covered his
eyes from the late morning sunlight streaming past the parted drapery
of the bed chamber windows, as he uttered what sounded like a cross
between a gasp and a moan.
"It certainly is Thy prerogative to rise late in the day, but we must
begin our ministrations if Your Majesty be prepared for entertaining
suitors this evening."
"Su...suitors?" Kellan muttered. He managed to pull off the comforter
and he swung his feet around and onto the cold stone floor, and slowly,
but somewhat still unsteadily, stood up.
"Here is some wine to strengthen Thee for this evening as we attend to
Thee, Your Majesty."
He downed the wine, which was less heady than the drink from the night
before if still very potent. As he lowered the goblet something struck
him...things were out of place....he felt out of place.
"We have your evening attire ready for your approval. All simple in
design as You requested, that any attraction from your suitors might be
to you alone, and not some raiment." He shook his head; their language
seemed to change from moment to moment from thee to you, which felt
like someone struggled with lines from a play. But even more so, the
script, if there was one, seemed to move far afield from what he
expected.
"I pray Thee that indeed they truly will be attracted alone to Thy
inner beauty." Only one spoke but they nodded in unison as Kellan just
stared at them and sighed.
"A...attracted?"
"You alone, Your Majesty...not the office nor outer beauty as you
described it."
"M...my buh...beauty?"
"Oh yes, but not at all vainly, as You feared. 'I wish to be loved for
being myself and not as a beautiful fearful sovereign. I wish to marry
for love alone,' You said."
"M...myself?"
"Yes, we have taken great effort in that regard. Behold." One of the
other women placed a silver mirror in Kellan's hands. He brought it up
and looked at his image.
"Wh...what...who?" He gasped as the mirror revealed not the expected
daring rogue or knight or even some sword-wielding Duke tasked with the
protection of the Queen, but the Queen herself. His hands began to
shake and he dropped the mirror onto the bed behind him. He began to
sway and all three women stepped to his...to her side.
"Steady, Your Majesty. All apologies. Instead of heartening Thee,
mayhaps the wine has worsened Your fears. You need not worry, my Queen.
We shall see all is aright before Your audience with Your suitors."
"Que...Queen?"
He gasped once again even as the women began to strip him. His efforts
to cover himself went for naught and he found himself standing bare
before them. He looked to see that where once was a flat chest now
appeared two lovely breasts. He glanced further below to see...nothing.
He gasped and placed his right hand over his mouth in shock even as he
quickly lowered his left hand to cover himself...herself below.
In a moment he realized that the elaborate preparation for a simple
portrayal on a sound stage in a mythical studio had somehow been
replaced...how he had been transformed...into a woman of royal stature.
"This isn't what I wanted," he said frantically as the women rubbed
scented lotions onto her body."
"No... nuh..."
By now Kellan had become hysterical. The women, he would remember
later, thankfully applied their ministrations carefully so as not to
gaze upon her royal personage. In short order, they had finished
anointing her and had begun to help her into her garb.
"This is wrong...Mr. Roarke? Mr. Roarke? I want to speak to Mr.
Roarke," she protested even as her undergarments were covered with a
sleeveless tan gown. Her right arm and left wrist bore leather bands
that matched the belt surrounding her waist and she wore a simple
silver tiara upon a head graced with long brown hair that chastely
covered her delicate breasts.
"This will do mayhaps unless You ponder other choices for this
evening's fare, Your Majesty."
"Stop calling me that. My name is Kellan," she cried even as she
noticed her voice was almost that of the young ladies beside her.
"What else would it be, Queen Kellan?" one of the women spoke while the
other two smiled as they all bowed before Queen Kellan of Moravia,
sovereign of all the land and soon to be married to one of the four
suitors whom she would greet that evening...
Meanwhile, two figures stood quietly in the room, unseen.
"He's not very happy, Boss." Tattoo looked up at Roarke.
"No, my friend. Kellan is not happy. But it is not for the form which
he now possesses, but rather for the fear that things are not quite
what he...she has always wished for."
"Then why is this fantasy good. Boss?"
"Because the one who planned this fantasy knows exactly what Kellan
needs even as Kellan does not ... what Kellan has wanted this...her
whole life..."
"What's that, Boss?"
"Why, Tattoo? Where would we be if all hidden adventures were made
known too soon? Without suspense? With no drama?? We shall watch and be
surprised even as Kellan herself discovers just how much of her life is
wrapped up in tonight's events... Yes, my friend?" Tattoo nodded.
Roarke teased only a little. While he knew exactly the intent of
Kellan's benefactor, he let the details play out with seemingly no
foreknowledge of his own.
"Yes. Boss? This will be fun?"
"Not at first, but in the end, all will be not only as it should be,
but to the happiness of all our guests."
"That's wonderful, Boss!"
Roarke smiled at Tattoo and nodded.
"Yes my good friend...Wonderful indeed!"
Not long after, as evening began to fall...
"I see that you have chosen the first after all", the young woman
spoke, eyeing the tan gown Kellan already wore. Truth be told, Kellan
had been too anxious to make a choice.
Kellan nodded absentmindedly as one of the three began to comb her
hair. She found herself almost posing. And she looked at the three and
couldn't help but think that they all seemed somewhat familiar, but
hidden behind a thick veil.
"I..." Kellan went to speak, but once again had a goblet thrust into
her hands, followed by the same cheerful urging by her ladies. This
time, it felt different as she eagerly downed the drink. The
second...or was it the first young woman spoke.
"Just one more adjustment, Your majesty?" She walked close and placed a
plain- looking tan suede half mask over Kellan's upper face, with
cutouts for her eyes and room underneath the nose to breathe; leaving
her mouth exposed.
"To conceal Thy beauty lest Your suitors judge You according to Thy
looks." One of them said. quickly adding,
"For love of Thee alone, my Queen."
"Some dye to stain Thy already luscious lips?" another asked even as
she gently daubed Kellan's lips with a cloth dipped in red dye. The
third offered Kellan the mirror once again; her gracious, simple image
almost shining through the opacity of the mask. One of them raised the
hem of Kellan's long gown and placed brown suede slippers on her feet.
Even at that, she remained unsteady, prompting two of the three to grab
her arms.
"Your suitors await without in the Great Hall. They have already been
served dinner so as not to detract from Your audience with them."
"I...audience?" Kellan gasped even as she heard her own voice; gentle
of timbre and pitch; once again just like a young woman of ages with
her attendants.
"Yes, my Queen. For Thy courtship."
"Co...courtship?" Kellan repeated.
Without offering a reply, Kellan felt the women gently urge her out of
the chambers and into a long, broad hallway. Kellan gasped as it seemed
she was almost being carried to her doom. In a few moments she was
standing with her ladies by the entrance of the Great Hall. Four
suitors stood together in the center of the hall in animated
discussion, or so it appeared. One of the women took a step closer to
the suitors and spoke.
"Her majesty will entertain your company one at a time. Should she
raise her hand at any time to beckon you, you may draw closer. If she
raises her hand with her palm facing you, you may stay as she speaks
with another or depart if you so choose." The young lady paused and
looked at Kellan. Even while masked. she appeared nervous.
"Whatever she asks of you, answer. If she bids you to leave, you must
depart immediately." The young woman walked back to Kellan and spoke in
almost hushed tones.
"Steady, Your Majesty. By God's good grace, You shall make a choice as
befits not only Your office, but especially Your heart." At the word
'heart,' Kellan winced. The young woman went to retreat, but Kellan
grabbed her arm.
"Oh, do stay?" she said even as her voice began to quiver.
"We will be right here," the young lady said.
"I...Maeve, and my sister Agnes, will attend to your person as needs
be." She looked past Kellan to the third woman who stood by a wooden
chair several feet away.
"And Marian will keep Thee in prayer for Thy decision." All three bowed
before Maeve and Agnes stepped back. Kellan turned to face the first
suitor.
"Hail Queen Kellan," he spoke in a gruff tone without being bidden even
as he stepped closer, only to have Kellan begin to raise her hand. She
stopped and lowered it to her side instead; curious to hear what he had
to say.
Even with his own mask covering much of his face, his arrogance was
betrayed by his stance and his already condescending tone. He bowed
with an exaggerated flourish, even to slowly placing his hand upon the
hilt of his sword.
"I must say you are pretty, I suppose, but you hold yourself more like
a servant than the ruler of this kingdom. I.." Kellan managed to raise
her hand, but merely showed her palm, while an almost fear arose in her
as she wondered how he might react.
"Surely you cannot mean to silence me before I have begun to speak."
Kellan shook nervously but continued to hold her hand up, palm out.
"Pray thee heed my Queen, sir. She does not wish to hear a further
word!" Maeve said as she walked close to Kellan.
The man glared at her before storming out; muttering something under
his breath. Kellan sighed and turned to the other suitors.
"Cuhh...come," Kellan said, beckoning the second to approach. He strode
with no swagger, but he spoke abruptly nonetheless.
"Our united kingdoms shall thrive as never before when I take thee for
my bride." Kellan stepped back slightly, mulling the suitor's words.
"Of course, you, as my Queen, shall have your say in many, less
demanding matters..." Kellan found herself shaking as her hands balled
into fists by her sides.
"But certainly, in matters of state, it is best to leave serious things
to your King." His tone was dismissive and arrogant. He too bowed, but
even with his face covered, his half-smile was one entirely of near
contempt.
Kellan managed to open her right hand and she started to hold her palm
facing the man, but she quickly used it instead to point to the large
open door at the other end of the hall.
"But..."
"Leave now," she said in a nervous whisper." He hesitated and she
repeated, still barely above a whisper.
"Leave now."
The suitor did not retreat but actually took one step closer.
Maeve pulled open the skirt of her gown only slightly; revealing a long
knife in a sheathe gird upon her right thigh. She pulled it out and
laid the blade softy across her arm in display. The man hesitated and
went to speak.
"Depart," Maeve spoke loudly as she used the knife to point to the
door, and the man ran from the hall. By now Kellan was shaking. Agnes
approached and spoke softly.
"Almost through, Your Majesty. You are clad as You are because You are
our Warrior Queen. You have set aside everything of Your own to love
and serve us all. Be of good courage as the Strong woman Your subjects
know Thee to be."
Agnes then stepped back along with Maeve even while Marian remained
seated a short distance away, almost lost in prayer. As Kellan turned
she noticed the third suitor still standing in place, waving slightly
so as to gain her attention. While he was portly in stature, there
seemed to be an almost a jovial air about him, unlike the first two
men.
"Your Majesty? May I approach?"
There was no nervousness in his voice, which remained calm and
inviting. She nodded and beckoned him forward, but rather than boastful
stride like the first two suitors, he took only a few steps before
stopping to remove his mask, leaving him looking surprisingly and
entirely humble.
"May I speak plainly, Your Majesty?"
Kellan struggled to regain her voice and just nodded, relieved at least
that the man did not demand, but instead sought permission.
"I have no need to marry You though You are indeed the brightest star
in the heavens. You may have much to offer as a bride to me, but You
offer so much more merely by being the Sovereign to Your people, as our
kingdoms freely align without need of treaty or marriage. I will offer
You the only thing I treasure to bestow...my friendship and the
friendship of my people." His words were almost gentle and accompanied
by a warm grin.
"You...you speak plainly indeed, kind sir, and we...I thank thee for
thy candor."
"I shall take my leave, Your Majesty...My friend."
With that Kellan nodded and smiled as the man turned and casually
strolled over to the table laden with the food for the evening.
Stepping up, he downed a flagon of ale before pulling off a sizable
drumstick from the large pheasant on the pewter platter in the middle
of the table.
"For the road Your Majesty?" He raised the drumstick and smiled and
Kellan smiled back.
"Fare thee well, kind sir," she said and he smiled once more before
striding from the hall.
Before the fourth suitor had a chance to say a word, Kellan spoke; less
nervously but still with a slight quiver in her voice.
"You....may approach."
Her suitor turned to face her and it was only then that rather than a
half mask like the others, Kellan's fourth suitor wore a simple black
bandana; obscuring all but for the display of the most intensely green
eyes Kellan had ever seen.
Another similar bandana served as a hat that left little trace of self
other than a shock of dark red hair that poked through at the nape of
the neck, evoking a long, questioning gaze from Kellan.
"If I may, Your Majesty, I will approach only a pace or so more?"
Kellan nodded. Even muffled somewhat by the bandana, the words sounded
almost dulcet. With coat abandoned, Kellan noted that her suitor was
attired only in a long black tunic and black breeches with simple black
calf-skin boots. With no belt nor scabbard, the suitor felt almost
intimidating by mere simplicity.
"Tell me? What do you seek?" She hesitated but no reply was uttered.
Kellan added,
"Please?"
"I seek but one thing and that alone."
"And what might that one thing be,?"
"To see my Queen happy."
"That is noble but yet a nebulous thought." Kellan remarked; frowning
more at herself for not knowing what would trulymake her happy. She bit
her lip and tears came to her eyes.
"I do not pretend to know all things, nor do I desire such power. But I
do know this..." Her suitor paused; not for effect, but rather in
deference to her. Kellan tilted her head slightly. What began as near
dread swiftly changed to a peaceful calm.
By now, Maeve and Agnes and even Marion had drawn up beside her, their
hands at her back in encouragement. And they spoke as one even as a
light began to dawn on her regarding their voices; still perplexing
while she began to discern the familiarity of their words.
"Go ahead.... Tell her." The suitor took a half step closer.
"You know this in your heart of hearts, my Queen. It is how You appear
now that displays Thy true self...Kellan?"
Speaking her name would have almost felt rude but for the gentleness of
the voice that uttered it.
"Here," the suitor said, gently removing Kellan's mask to display her
pretty but unassuming, modest face.
"I loved you as I first saw you, but I knew then even as you know now
that this is the real you. The person I married and have loved since we
were both twelve in Mrs. Capaldi's Earth Science class."
Kellan tilted her head, still confused.
"I fell in love with you all over again when you cried one afternoon as
you told me how your mom and dad just couldn't understand that their
son was their daughter." Kellan's eyes widened in tearful recognition.
"And it broke my heart to see the fear and disappointment in your eyes
when I teased you on our Wedding night about wearing my wedding dress."
The figure before her clutched her hand even as she removed the
bandanas, revealing Kellan's wife. Heather Elizabeth O'Connor
Patterson.
"I loved you and I love you still because no matter what the cost...the
sacrifice, you have looked only to my needs and my family. You ask for
nothing and you give me your all every day.
"I love you with all my heart, and it has been my fantasy since we wed
that you would finally be free to be you...to be happy." Heather pulled
her husband of nine years into their best kiss ever. Queen
Kellan...Kellan Michael Patterson; Theater Arts Professor at Moravian
University.
"Let me love you, my sweet, wonderful wife?" Heather said as she
gathered Kellan in her arms, kissing her deeply.
"We love you, Kell...we just love you," Maeve O'Connor Polakowski said
as she hugged Kellan; swiftly joined by Agnes O'Connor and Marion
O'Connor Lieung... Heather's sisters. He nodded happily, but in a few
moments, Kellan shook his head, feeling odd. The hall seemed to fade
into mist only to be replaced by the soundstage Kellan had envisioned
when he first described his fantasy to Mr. Roarke.
All three were still dressed in Medieval garb, as was Kellan, albeit
pretty if now returned beneath to male form. The only change was that
Heather was clad in a near identical gown as Kellan's, save for the
forest green instead of Kellan's tan.
And off to the side, still unseen stood Tattoo and Roarke.
"Is Kellan happy now. Boss?" Tattoo watched as the five exited the faux
studio.
"Oh yes my friend, but this fantasy is not over," Roarke said with a
smile, leaving Tattoo confused once again.
In a short while, Heather's sisters had bade the couple a good night,
accompanied by hugs and kisses. Kellan and Heather stood at the doorway
to a pretty cottage; its outside festooned with colorful, broad ribbons
and garlands of flowers.
"It is truly once again our Wedding Night, My Queen," Heather said as
she drew Kellan close for a kiss before sweeping him...her off her feet
as she carried her bride across the threshold.
Two days later...
The plane sat by the pier, its engines idling as five figures walked
down the path toward Roarke and Tattoo.
"I trust your fantasy was all you hoped for, Kellan Patterson?"
"It was exactly as I never dreamed of but I believe I always hoped for,
Mr. Roarke." Kellan looked down at himself...herself, perhaps for the
very first time before turning to Heather and her sisters. All five
wore nice sundresses of pastel shades, Their legs were bare and they
wore simple leather sandals.
"And you, Heather Patterson?" Roarke asked. She grabbed Kellan's left
hand and held it out with hers. revealing two identical beautiful gold
rings; each set with small but sparkly pale green emeralds.
"Almost. We're going to see a doctor in Philly when we get back, and my
friend Angela's partner Katie specializes in gender issues."
"That sounds wonderful," Tattoo said almost dreamily, earning broad
smiles from everyone.
"Ah, but there is more to tell, isn't there?" Roarke asked. Heather
grinned playfully before turning to her newly-minted bride. Kellan
tilted her head in question.
"However we decide going forward...how you might choose how to be
you...to be my wife? We will be seeing another doctor when we get
back."
She smiled, but her eyes filled with tears. Kellan wasn't so much
speechless as in awe of what she suspected. since Heather's tears were
accompanied by a widening grin.
"What?...No..." Kellan asked as she smiled.
Heather just glanced down and patted her tummy and nodded yes.
"I..." Kellan stammered and she began to cry even as she tilted her
head in one, final, unspoken question.
"Yes, sweetie. We are going to be mommies." A declaration that prompted
hugs and kisses and happy tears all around.
"Thank you. Mr. Roarke," Kellan and Heather said in unison before they
all walked down the path.
Accompanied to the plane by the island well-wishers, the five women
received garlands and even more hugs before they boarded. And in a few
moments, the plane took off and flew over the island in farewell.
As Roarke and Tattoo made their way back up the path, Tattoo paused and
looked up.
"You knew all along, Boss?"
"That would be telling, my dear friend."
"But I think I know one thing?"
"And what is that, Tattoo?"
"That Kellan and Heather are very happy?" Roarke grinned and spoke.
"Yes my dear old friend. Very happy indeed."
The End
Fantasy Island and all associated characters (except mine) are owned by
Spelling-Goldberg Productions, Columbia Pictures Television, Sony
Pictures Home Entertainment. All persons described herein are fictional
and any resemblance to persons living or dead is coincidental.
Copyright infringement is not intended.
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