Bermuda Story

The sun hit her straight in the eyes as the boat softly bumped against a coastal wave. Jack—or rather, as everyone had started calling her lately, Jenna—sat up a bit, feeling the red bikini fabric stretch between her butt cheeks. Her blonde hair, still as strange as those two now very alive parts on her chest, made her frown.

— Finally... — Ashley breathed out, staring at the approaching shore. She wore a blue bikini, which, like all the other girls here, she hadn’t chosen herself but simply... simply woke up in on this yacht. Unlike Jack, though, she had at least stayed a girl—just like all the other girls around. — I thought we’d never get out of there.

The boat slowed down. At the wheel stood Ray—the same old man from the plane—who, like all the girls here, had changed too. Now he looked like a thirty-year-old athlete; the steering wheel rested easily in his hands, dark glasses hid his eyes, and his smile was filled with a confidence the old Ray never had.

— Shore’s close, ladies, — his voice, still not entirely familiar, sounded calm. — Get ready.

Jenna frowned again. “Ladies” — a word she still couldn’t get used to hearing addressed to her. Only a few days had passed since they woke up on this yacht, but to her, it felt like an eternity filled with shock, denial, and a quiet, growing horror. She remembered how, before the Bermuda Triangle, she’d been Jack—a tall, confident man who loved sports and would’ve never been caught dead wearing something like this tiny red bikini.

— Jenna, you okay? — Maya sat down beside her. A girl with long black hair tied in a bun and a violet swimsuit. — You’re staring at the water like you wanna drown yourself.

Jenna flinched. — No, come on, — she reacted quickly. — Just... just thinking. How... how the hell are we supposed to explain this? Or maybe none of this is even real, like in that movie where people get stuck on an island after a plane crash?

— Well, we’re all in the same boat, — she said, and only then realized how literally that sounded for them right now. — I mean, um...

— I know what you meant, — Jenna allowed herself a quick smile but hid it just as fast. — Just saying, if I’d known, I’d never have boarded that plane.

They hadn’t known each other before, but what united them all was this yacht—and these new bodies. No one really wanted to talk about it, but everything about them looked as if they were girls whose main line of work had something to do with ending up on this yacht with some rich guy. And none of them wanted to say out loud what was painfully obvious. That they’d ended up in the bodies of some sluts.

And yeah, all of them had been on that same flight through the Bermuda Triangle, and the last thing they remembered before waking up here was some strange sound—something like the noise of turbines, but... different. Neither Jack nor any of the other passengers had time to make sense of it. And then—there was the yacht, the sun, and the new body.

Ray turned off the engine. The silence, broken only by the cries of seagulls and the sound of the surf, felt deafening. Finally—land.

— This doesn’t look like an inhabited island, — said Ashley, studying the rocky shore. Still, for all of them, it was better than drifting endlessly across the sea.

— There’s a beach over there, — said Maya, pointing toward a small strip of sand behind the rocks and giving a gentle, encouraging nudge to Jenna, who seemed frozen in place. — Hey, it’s okay, come on, pull yourself together.

Jenna flinched at the touch and looked at Maya—but her gaze caught on something behind the girl. Something in the air, like a blurry, shimmering patch of heat rising from the island, was rushing toward them.

— What... what is that? — Jenna breathed out, but no one heard her.

A wave of something invisible yet tangible swept through the boat. It felt like a sudden, burning pulse of heat piercing right through Jenna’s bones. She squeezed her eyes shut, and when she opened them again—nothing had changed. Same yacht, same girls, same Ray at the helm.

And yet, somehow, everything felt different, even though they were still the same people—strangers who had somehow become familiar over the past week.

— Oh, Marco, darling, have we arrived? — sang out Ashley, her tone suddenly playful and higher-pitched. She ran up to Ray, put her hands on her hips, and looked at him with adoration, her blue eyes sparkling. — Is this really your private island? How luxurious!

Ray, not at all surprised to be called Marco, only smirked. — Only for you and my girls, sweetheart, — he said, easily lifting Ashley and settling her onto his lap. — What I love should always be the best.

Jenna froze. Ashley? Marco? His private island? What the hell? She tried to speak, but the words stuck in her throat. The girl in the violet swimsuit—the one she’d known as Maya—had changed too.

— Crystal, baby, why so quiet? — asked the former Maya, and immediately smacked Jenna—or Jack—or now Crystal—on her bare ass, not hard, but playfully. — Don’t worry, Marco’s very generous if you earn it. But pouting all the time isn’t the best way to get rewarded, you know?

Crystal. Now her name was Crystal. And everyone—absolutely everyone—seemed to accept it like it had always been that way. They didn’t just call her by a new, sugary name—they looked at her like they’d always known her as Crystal. The girls who seconds ago had been as lost and confused as she was were now acting like seasoned companions of a rich man.

She looked at the others. They weren’t just sitting and waiting anymore. They’d gathered by the side of the boat, laughing and pointing toward the luxurious villa visible through the palm trees on the shore. Their movements were full of relaxed, practiced seduction. That wave—whatever invisible force it was—had wiped away their memories of their past lives and replaced them with... with this.

Jenna, or Crystal, was the only one who still remembered everything. Jack. The plane. The old man. The shock of the transformation. Everything.

— Well, let’s go, Frank and Groover should already be there, — said Marco suddenly, right next to Crystal, and the next moment his hands wrapped around her waist. His fingers were warm and confident. He held her like she was his property, as if that alone was supposed to make Crystal feel excited and grateful.

She tensed up, shoulders stiffening as she tried to pull away, but he just pointed lazily toward the shore and tightened his grip, not letting her go.

— It’s gonna be a fuckin’ awesome weekeeeeeend! — he shouted with a burst of enthusiasm that felt fake to her, though clearly it was his usual tone, because the girls around only laughed in response. — Just fun, booze, and you!

Then, without warning, Marco grabbed Crystal’s lips in a kiss—no asking, no waiting. His tongue forced its way into her mouth, rough and hungry, exploring her teeth and palate. She let out a muffled moan, trying to push him away, but her hands, which had risen to his chest, suddenly felt weak, useless. He pulled her closer, his other hand sliding down to her ass, taking full control of her body. For a split second, a thought flashed through her mind: “So this is what girls feel.” But it was gone just as quickly, replaced by a new wave of despair.

— Ah! That’s fuckin’ perfect! — Marco exclaimed, pulling away. He wiped the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand and looked at the others with a grin. — Crystal’s with me tonight! The rest of you—enjoy the beach, but tonight, everyone comes to me! Frank and Groover will be there too!

The other girls sighed in disappointment, but no one dared to object. They just bowed slightly and started climbing over the side of the boat into the shallow, warm water, giggling and splashing each other playfully. Crystal was left alone—with him. With Marco.

— Come on, baby, — he said, taking her hand. His taste still lingered in her mouth—expensive whiskey and something else she couldn’t identify, something that twisted her stomach. Her lips were burning, swollen, and between her legs there was that strange, wet heat she still couldn’t comprehend. It scared her... and disgusted her.

— Hey! R-r-ray! What the hell?! — she finally blurted out, but it came out nothing like she meant it to. Her voice was high, almost whiny, full of helplessness. She jerked her hand back, but he only tightened his grip on her wrist.

— What? Ray? What are you talking about, baby? — he smiled, moving toward the stairs leading down from the deck into the cabin. — Come on, just five minutes, you’ll love it. I’ve got something special for you... for my Crystal.

She swallowed hard, feeling a lump rise in her throat. Two feelings raged inside her—fear, and that heat between her legs, mixed with the sudden hardness of her nipples pressing against the red bikini fabric. It was all already too much, too strange. But after that strange wave—whatever the hell it was—that seemed to have changed everyone around her but not her, it became unbearable. She wasn’t Crystal. She was Jack. Or at least Jenna. But to Marco, she was Crystal. To everyone, she was Crystal. A call girl—for him and his friends.