Muscle Fantasy Island
by Londonboy
The plane was small, to match the tiny secluded airport from where it was departing. It could only seat about ten people and today there were four men on board, not including the pilot. None of them had spoken to each other by this point; they had merely listened to the pilot’s obligatory safety announcement and prepared for take-off. A few minutes later, after passing that ‘are we going to make it’ point in the bumpy ascent, the passengers began to furtively glance at each other. Everyone on the plane was aware of its destination – and that bonded the guys in a very special way. Each man, while trying to act nonchalant, wondered what his fellow adventurers hoped to gain from the trip. The flight was scheduled to last only two hours and then they would be greeted at a private island not marked on any maps or acknowledged in any way by people that knew this area of the Pacific Ocean. It had been listed in the brochure as one of the most secretive places on the face of the earth and this fact made it possible for every passenger to pay the exorbitant price to visit. For on this particular island each man’s deepest fantasy would finally come true. An intense unified excitement was palpable in the air because everyone on this particular puddle-jumper knew he was about to have the experience of a lifetime.
An older man in the back row finally broke the ice when he boldly said, “I’ve fantasized about muscles for all of my life and my name’s Harry.”
That one statement released the tension the same way air escapes from a balloon when it slips from your fingers while being blown up. It almost felt like the first time in a long while that any of the men had taken a regular life-giving breath. Tight shoulders relaxed and hearts began to beat at a regular pace. Everyone turned in their seats so they could see each other – as if they were all sitting around a campfire.
“All of it,” Harry went on to explain, “except for when I was too little to register anything but a need for my mother’s milk and sleep. Hell, I was probably imagining my mouth clamped on some guy’s big chest even then, but I didn’t know it!”
This made every guy on the plane laugh out loud – even the pilot. It was obvious that the older man’s age was one of the things that made it easy for him to start up the conversation. He was a slightly overweight man in his mid-fifties and had a jovial face, which was obviously matched by his fun sense of humor. A heavy southern accent was easily detected when he spoke. The guy also reeked of money, mainly because of the impeccable Italian tailored suit he wore, the Rolex on his wrist, and the sleek limo everyone else had seen drop him off at the airport. Harry’s smile was intoxicating and it helped the other guys feel compelled to talk, too.
“At the airport I began to worry that the place might be named Muscle Fantasy Island only for me,” replied a younger small-framed man, “and that each of you had some other kind of dream you wanted to live out. But I guess we’re all here for the same thing. I’m Adrian.” The twenty-something year old raised his hand in a shy, friendly wave of hello.
“Hey, Adrian,” Harry responded.
“Our fantasies are probably the same in a general sense, Adrian, but I have a feeling there are some specific likes and dislikes that make them vastly different,” came the response from a tall dark-haired man sitting behind the pilot. There was an air to the guy that immediately made him seem snobbish and somewhat bored with what anyone else might dare to say.
“I bet that’s for damn sure,” Harry said, laughing. “What’s your name, Mr. Britain?”
“My name is Henry, sir,” he replied formally.
“Are you really from Great Britain?” asked Adrian.
“Yes, I am from just outside London,” answered Henry.
“Cool,” shot back Adrian and this made the other gentlemen smile – except for Henry.
There was a silence and this made each of the men that had spoken turn to the fourth traveler. As soon as he noticed everyone was staring at him, the poor guy looked down at the ground. The man was probably in his mid thirties and actually quite handsome. He had sandy brown hair and a natural rugged build that was obvious even through the slightly tattered windbreaker he was wearing. The guy looked back up and everyone got a chance to see his emerald green eyes and Greco-chiseled face. He quickly looked back down at the ground.
“No need to be shy there, buddy,” Harry said loudly, “we’re all here for the same reason.”
“I know,” Mr. Green eyes replied and said nothing more.
“Well, what’s your name, son?” asked Harry.
“Um, Mason, sir,” came the reply and the guy still didn’t look up.
Harry and Adrian exchanged a look of confusion. The four men again sat in silence for a few seconds. It was as if everyone was digesting the slight information that had been shared and each was trying to figure out a way to move the conversation forward. Henry looked back down at a book in his lap and started reading again. Harry couldn’t help himself and stared shamelessly at the shy Mason, as if he was attempting to figure the poor man out. Adrian happily turned to look out the window – soon discouraged because he was only able to see water below. The young man turned his attention back to the middle of the plane.
“So you must be pretty rich, huh Harry?” he asked without even thinking about it.
“I like a man who says what’s on his mind, Adrian,” Harry quickly replied - as soon as he saw Henry shooting the young man a disapproving look. “Yes, I am pretty rich.”
“That’s cool,” Adrian sent back, still not thinking anything was wrong with the question.
And since there was no follow-up comment or other questions pertaining to Harry’s money, it became quite clear that the young guy had merely asked a simple question. He had no ulterior motive. He turned back to the window hoping that miraculously some land had suddenly appeared. It was still just water everywhere. Adrian was obviously already bored with the flight. He kept pulling out his phone, but would put it back immediately, remembering the pilot has said he couldn’t use it. Suddenly, he returned to the conversation he had started.
“My dad’s filthy rich,” Adrian explained and then added, “Maybe you know him. His name is Ralph Maddock.”
This comment made all four other men, including the pilot; look at the youngish-acting fellow. It was like he had just told them something so unbelievable that they were about to be knocked from their seats.
“You mean the conservative asshole publishing tycoon?” inquired Harry without filtering his thoughts.
“That’s the one,” replied Adrian innocently.
“Well I’ll be damned!” exclaimed Harry.
“Do you find it hard to be the son of a man that hate’s everything homosexual?” asked Henry with a biting edge.
“Sure,” Adrian said in response, “but he’s my dad, you know. He just pays me a lot to stay hidden, so I can’t complain too much. I get to do a lot of crazy things like this.”
“Old Ralphy Maddock has a gay son,” murmured Harry lowly – as if in shock. “Who would have thunk it.”
Again there was silence on the plane. Adrian’s revelation was pretty intense and the other men needed time to sort through the new information. Harry didn’t tell the group that he knew Ralph Maddock well, and that they were only friends because Harry had more money than Maddock – making him more powerful. The lull in conversation lasted longer this time and was broken by an unlikely source.
“What if it’s not real,” asked Mason with a soft voice – people almost missed it because of the hum of the plane. “I mean, what if they can’t make our fantasies come true?”
The handsome guy was still looking down at the floor, but everyone else could tell his question was heartfelt. Adrian looked back and forth from Harry to Henry; hoping one of them would answer the question. Mason was like some hurt animal that the group wanted to hover over and heal. Harry moved to the empty seat across the aisle from the questioner. This movement actually encouraged Mason to look up, even though he still couldn’t stare Harry in the eyes. It was more like he looked at Harry’s forehead or beyond him – somewhere on the wall.
“Listen Mason,” Harry reassured, “I have it on very good authority that this place can do everything it promises. I wouldn’t be here if it couldn’t. I can assure you that I’m not a man that spends money foolishly. I have heard specifics from other gentlemen that have had the opportunity to visit here and they would gladly come back – paying ten times what we paid - if it was allowed.”
“It’s just . . .” started Mason, but he got kind of choked up and stopped. He started again shortly. “I’ve just spent my life savings to get here and if it turns out to be a bust I’m not sure I could handle it.”
The man finally stared straight into Harry’s eyes. The profound honesty and the great fear touched the older man’s heart deeply. He reached across the aisle and lay his hand on top of Mason’s – letting it rest there a few seconds before speaking.
“Forget about that now, Mason,” Harry said. “Let’s just focus on the here and now. Trust me; there will be hell to pay if things don’t go as promised. I’ll either help you get your money back or I’ll repay you myself. I have a feeling, though, that none of us are going to be asking for a refund at the end.”
“How did you get information like that?” Henry asked. “No one is ever to speak about this place once you return. It is part of the agreement.”
“You’d be amazed what money can buy,” Harry responded, but he didn’t look at the Englishman. He kept his eyes on the beautiful younger man before him.
“That’s true,” Adrian chimed in.
“Thank you for your input, Adrian,” Henry said, rolling his eyes. It was clear, however, that he was also very reassured by Harry’s words.
Finally, Mason turned his gaze back down to the floor and Harry pulled his hand away. He worried that he had left it there too long and made the boy uncomfortable. The opposite was true, though. Mason was very happy to hear that Harry Winsor had checked out the claims made by the place in advance. The younger man had recognized the rich Texan as soon as he had stepped out of the limo at the airport. Mr. Winsor was one of the richest men in America – probably the world. He had made his money originally through oil, but had enhanced his pocketbook in the last few years by many lucrative investments in the hotel business. Mason was positive that Harry Winsor would not be on this plane if the island’s guarantees were not true. He was also impressed that the island’s rule of no private jets was honored – even for one of the wealthiest guys in existence. Mason’s enthusiasm for reaching their destination started to get as intense as Adrian’s. No one spoke again for a while.
“I wish we could tell each other what our fantasies are,” came the confident voice of the pilot – causing all four of the other men to look up with surprised faces. “Yep, I’m one of you guys, too. My name’s George. The island only lets a pilot fly here once, so they always look for guys that want to fulfill their own dream. It makes it a lot easier.”
“So that means you are flying to a place that you have never been before?” asked Henry.
“Yes sir,” replied George.
“That seems a little worrisome,” Henry said with the same biting tone he had used earlier.
“We can’t share our fantasies,” Adrian quickly said and people were thankful to be pulled away from Henry’s sarcasm. “It’s one of the rules. If you share your dream in advance they refuse to let you step foot on the island.”
“How could they possibly know?” George persisted.
“Is this your plane, George?” Harry questioned in return.
“No, it belongs to the island,” was the reply from the pilot.
“That explains the cameras and the microphones conveniently hidden throughout the cabin,” explained Harry and he then pointed out at least three noticeable ones.
“Man, I didn’t see those,” George said nervously.
“I propose we stick to our agreements,” remarked Harry and each man, including Mason, nodded their head.
There was a slight pause and then a voice – as if out of nowhere – said, “Good afternoon, gentleman. You are approximately thirty minutes away from your destination. You will presently be entering into heavy clouds, George. Please do not attempt to move above or below them. This is part of our protection for the island. During the ten minutes of limited visibility please use your radar system. We are very excited about greeting all of you very soon.”
The voice disappeared and the men all looked at each other. The moment was very ominous, but not as much as what George saw up ahead – a wall of dark clouds, which seemed to stretch as far upward as he could see and all the way down to the water.
“Bloody hell,” exclaimed Henry as the plane was instantly engulfed in darkness.
George immediately turned on lights – both inside and outside the plane. He also told everyone to buckle their seatbelts, anticipating that the dense clouds would cause much turbulence. But once inside the wall of darkness there was no bumpy ride, it was still unbelievably smooth. George had never experienced anything like this. He went on to check all other systems and everything was working perfectly. He tried to reach anyone on the radio, but there was only silence. If the plane went down right now he was sure no one would know and probably no one would ever find them. The sudden blackness outside of the plane caused everyone to become slightly nervous. It was quite obvious, by the sweat building on his forehead and the way he grab the arms of his seat; that Mason was the most upset. Harry noticed this immediately and his heart again went out to the younger man.
“Don’t be frightened, Mason,” assured Harry, “everything’s fine.”
“I’ve never flown before,” replied Mason as he closed his eyes. “How will George know where to go?”
“It’s quite easy, the plane’s instruments are programmed to get us to the island,” Harry said calmly. “Remember, lots of planes fly at night – so this is just like that.”
This thought calmed Mason immediately. He opened his eyes and looked at the older man. He mouthed the words ‘thank you’ and finally released his vice-grip on the arms of the seat. He was even able to turn and look out his window – marveling at how dark it had suddenly become. After a few seconds he was fully restored to his shy peaceful self.
“This is simply incredible,” remarked George. “I don’t know how they do it, but it’s got to be the best form of protection I’ve ever seen. They must have dark clouds surrounding the entire island. I guess the swimsuit I brought won’t be put to use. I had imagined there might be a chance for some beach time.”
“I have a feeling you’re going to get your wish,” Harry answered – even though it hadn’t been a question. “I’m pretty sure this cloud formation ends way before we get to the island.”
“You mean like the walls of a castle or something?” asked Adrian.
“Exactly,” replied Harry.
“Cool,” Adrian responded as he pressed his forehead against his window, hoping to be looking out when they broke through.
“Why is everything always so cool for you?” Henry asked bitingly.
“I don’t know, it just is,” answered Adrian, missing the derogatory tone in the question.
“Clearly,” Henry let out with a puff of hot air. He also glanced at Harry, who merely smiled at him.
A low intermittent beeping sound started going off at the front of the plane. Mason immediately grabbed the arms of his chair again and the other three men turned forward. The semi-relaxed atmosphere in the plane disappeared quickly. It was replaced with apprehension. George looked at a few instruments and then noticed the feeling emanating from the back.
“Don’t worry gents; it’s only the radar saying that the island is getting near,” George said to calm everyone down. “We’re probably about fifteen minutes away from . . .”
He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence because suddenly the plane was awash with light again. As quickly as it had plunged into darkness earlier the tiny aircraft was once again flying under blue skies with a gorgeous ocean below. As soon as they were out of the clouds, Adrian let out a little yelp of joy.”
“Look,” he said pointing out the front window, “there it is!”
Every man in the plane stared ahead and in the distance saw the shape of a large land mass. They were still many miles away, but you could already tell that the island was magnificent. No one spoke as they neared the place and it barely registered that George had begun to slowly decrease their altitude, taking directions for approach from what must have been an air traffic controller. Everyone prepared for landing as they realized what they thought would be a small private island actually ended up being the size of a small state. George carefully landed the plane on a landing strip that rested at one end of the long wide piece of land. There was a great amount of nervousness in the cabin as the men prepared to depart.
“If there is a small man greeting us,” Henry said, gathering his stuff, “I promise you I will simply return on the next outgoing aircraft.”
“Especially if he shouts ‘the plane, the plane’ – right?” Adrian jokingly added.
George opened the door, allowing it to fall forward to become the stairs down to the ground. Everyone stepped tentatively from the plane – onto the cement runway. There was a large black van waiting nearby, along with a tall driver dressed in a suit that matched the color of the van. Everyone gathered their suitcases and piled into the vehicle. The driver said nothing – he only smiled and assisted everyone. They drove for about fifteen minutes on a single-lane paved road, which was surrounded by dense jungle-like foliage.
“Cool!” exclaimed Adrian as he stared out the window.
This caused Henry to again roll his eyes, but he said nothing. This was due largely to the fact that he was equally impressed by the place. Then, in a Wizard of Oz ‘you’re out of the woods’ kind of way, the dense trees and vines disappeared into a wide-open valley with a large majestic looking building on a hill in the center. The chateau, as it was called in the brochures, was unbelievable. It looked like the kind of modern mega-hotel you could find in the Swiss Alps or near a beach in Hawaii. It had several verandas wrapping around different parts of the multi-layered building and enough wings to make it look like a small village. The group of men was deposited at the base of a grand marble staircase that led to the huge front doors. There, obviously waiting for them; was a non-descript man dressed in a suit at the top of the stairs.
“Hello gentlemen, welcome to the chateau,” he said smiling down at them, “please leave your luggage and kindly follow me. Our processing session will begin shortly.” He held out his hand toward the opened large front door.