Survivor

Survivor!

I had just finished working part of my gap year in a hotel in the Caribbean organising trips for the guests and now had four weeks to do what I wanted. I already knew what that was. I wanted to stay on a desert island. I had been born in Fife in Scotland and had lived in the same village as Alexander Selkirk, the man on whom the tale of Robinson Crusoe was based, and it had always been something I wanted to try. It was my secret obsession. My parents would have freaked out at the idea if I had shared it with them. I had grown my hair for full effect over the summer and the hotel coiffure had cut it for me, but as she only ever cut women's hair, I did think it looked a little strange.

There was this guy in the harbour who owned a boat that I used to charter a lot for fishing trips and other things that tourists wanted to do. We were not exactly best friends, but we did have a drink occasionally and he recognised that I put a lot of business his way. He had helped me find a suitable island and would drop me off there and pick me up in four weeks. I was paying him 20% up front and the rest when he collected me, just in case he found something more lucrative to do. He was fine with that and so was I.

The island was deserted apart from an automated lighthouse and weather station. It had been used to film a television program called Survivor where a girl had become stranded on the island after her light plane crashed during an island hop. The pilot had died leaving her to fend for herself. I loved that program and had a bit of a crush on the heroine Carly, so I already knew about the freshwater pools, mountain view and mangrove. I had also been given some tips by my boatman, especially about where to stay to avoid the coast guard patrols and what was worth foraging for. He was a good guy, probably a bit dodgy, but really helpful and reliable. He recommended this particular fruit which he said was extremely nutritious. I had tried some before I left and it was not the greatest taste, but certainly filling, and there was a lot of it on this island.

He took a picture of me before he left and, as I watched the boat sailing off, I felt a lump in my throat. The sun was low in the sky and night came quickly around here. This was it! I sorted myself out, set up camp and, that night, admired the stars through the canopy of trees. It was so dark and the stars were so bright! The noise of the jungle was deafening, but I got used to it and slept well. Being on the island was every bit as good as I had hoped. I had a great time exploring and recording my adventures on my tablet. I got some great videos and photos too as the island was really beautiful and the wildlife was so unused to people that the birds and sloths were not scared at all.

Four weeks later and I sat on the beach waiting for my trip back, reflecting on how much I had enjoyed it. I had eaten a lot of that fruit, and had a partiality for it now, especially in stews and baked with herbs. I had noticed a few changes to my body though. The hair on my head, which I had let grow over the course of the previous year, seemed thicker, but the hair on my legs was much thinner and barely showed at all. My skin seemed softer and my thighs and chest seemed bigger. I could tell because my T-shirts were quite tight now, as were my shorts. I put this down to my clothes shrinking and the effect of having such a restricted diet, a diet that was probably quite heavy in fat.

I waited all day and he didn't show. It wasn't until the end of the third day of waiting that I started to feel a bit worried. When he failed to show up a week later I realised something was wrong and found myself crying. I felt very weak and helpless, which was so unlike me. I later found out two things that explained everything. The first was that my boatman had been arrested for being associated with a drug smuggling gang. I had scored from him on several occasions, but it never occurred to me that he was involved in anything really illegal. The second was that the fruit I was eating almost all the time was extremely rich in a natural substance that was very similar to oestrogen, and that was now affecting my body and, to some degree, my thoughts.

I pulled myself together the next day. I was not at risk of starving or suffering from poisonous bites, but I was concerned about getting off the island. I was ready to leave. $400 was a lot of money, so I was sure the boatman would turn up and I just figured that something else had come up that had delayed him. The thing was: nobody else knew where I was as I wasn't meant to be here. Hindsight is a wonderful thing. I should have left a letter somewhere, or better, set up an automated email to be sent out if I didn't get back. However, there was another factor. The signs on the beaches were very clear, explaining that it was private property and a nature reserve. There were massive fines and a jail sentence if you were caught trespassing, so I was not super-keen to be rescued by the authorities. To be fair, I hadn't even seen the coast guard to flag down!

In my exploration, I found the lighthouse, but because that was also a military facility, it was completely impregnable. There was also a giant shipping container secreted on one side of the island which was padlocked, but nowhere near as securely. I was actually quite fed up. I'd read my book and explored every inch of the island. My solar panels were keeping my tablet and lights charged so I could still update my notes and video and photograph my experience, but even that was beginning to get quite repetitive. I set myself the challenge of breaking into that container.

I found a really heavy stone that was shaped into a point and began to pummel away at the lock. It took me two days and cost me two t-shirts that I had wrapped my hands in, but finally, the lock gave up and I was in. It smelt musty and there was all sorts of stuff in there. Some seats, a table, and a gazebo, but it mainly contained girls' stuff in various black plastic sacks. There seemed to be mainly clothes and make-up and I was pretty disappointed, but then I found some washing powder, shampoos and soaps and I was really pleased with that. There were also a few books, romance novels so not the sort I would normally read, but books nonetheless! There was also a large full-length mirror and various other 'changing room' paraphernalia.

The next day I sorted through everything, even the clothes! I was glad I did. I had been alone now for over five weeks and, when I found a quite distinctive blue summer dress with a flower pattern, I recognised it as one that Carly used to wear. She always looked really hot in it. I held it up against me and looked at myself in the mirror. I flushed with excitement and felt a twitch below that I had not felt for a long time. I felt an overwhelming compulsion to put it on. How mad! Would it even fit? I wouldn't know if I didn't try!

I removed my clothes and stood in front of the mirror naked. Although I had noticed my body getting curvier and less hairy, it wasn't until I stood in front of the mirror that I realised the true extent of the changes and I was suddenly very confused. I could see that I had small breasts and that my waist was quite thin, but my hips were larger than I remembered. My legs looked hairless and the straggly hair growth on my face just looked stupid. I found some ladies' razors and cleaned up my face before returning to the mirror. I was both horrified and excited. I was horrified at how my body seemed to have changed but also aroused by how sexy and feminine I thought I looked. I didn't even really notice my throbbing erection, but it was as hard as steel!

I had already made a small pile of bras and panties and reached over and gathered up a matching pair in navy blue lace. My heart was racing as I pulled the panties on and I gasped as I felt them enclosing me. My erection had subsided, I assume because my mind was now diverted from sexual excitement to processing the taboo nature of what I was doing. I picked up the bra and after a couple of attempts felt it holding my breasts in place. It was padded and enhanced my curves. I looked in the mirror and felt my cock twitching again.

My breathing was now very fast and shallow. I felt so hot! I pulled the dress over my head and let it fall. I picked up a large hair brush and brushed my hair for ages, watching myself in the mirror all the time. I rummaged in another bag where I had put all the makeup and pulled out a purple lipstick. Leaning into the mirror, I ran it across my lips. I so loved the taste, but I loved how it looked more! I stood back, brushing my hair again.

I stopped and stared at myself, my eyes wandering up and down my reflection. I thought of Carly and realised that I almost looked like her. It was crazy. I was so turned on. I pouted and posed. My cock was straining to burst through the lacy panties. I reached down to free it from under the dress. It felt so hot and wet. I began to rub it while I watched myself in the mirror. I could not recall a time I had ever felt so sexually excited. I erupted and groaned, my cum spurting onto the mirror, onto the reflection of that sexy blue dress.

The euphoria and freedom I felt suddenly evaporated. I looked in the mirror and instead of seeing a new beautiful me in a brave new world, I saw a sad perverted guy in a dress. I pulled the dress over my head, cursed the bra for being so hard to remove, and stepped out of the panties. I pulled on my filthy t-shirt and shorts. I looked in the mirror. I burst into tears at the scruffy nobody looking back at me and ran back to my camp.

I hardly slept that night and, when the cacophony of the dawn chorus wrenched me from my troubled and fitful dreaming, I rushed to the container. In my haste to leave I had not locked everything up again and some animals had been at the bags, but fortunately, nothing was damaged. I put on a bra and panties, pulled out a pink girls t-shirt and some shorts and pulled them on. I brushed my hair. Although my heart was pounding and my breath was ragged, I felt amazing. Like all my troubles had lifted again.

I collected some items and proceeded to the rocky pool and waterfall that was nearby. I washed my body thoroughly and savoured the delightful scent. I rubbed my face and noted that my beard had barely grown back and my face was still quite smooth. I washed my hair and put some conditioner on it after reading the instructions. I wrapped myself in a towel and returned to the container. I found a red bikini that I remembered Carly swimming in. I put that on with the matching flip-flops. My hair lay wet across my chest and I decided to take myself down to the beach with a hairbrush, a small mirror and a chair. I would let it dry in the sun. I took some makeup too!

The crazy thing was that I no longer cared about being properly marooned on the island. I had a routine worked out, I had fresh water and more than enough to eat. The one thing I had been missing, which was a pastime and some form of sexual escape, I now had. I was now in some ways worried that my boatman would turn up and shatter everything before I was ready.

I was quite surprised at how hard makeup was. I gradually worked it out as the names all described what they did, apart from mascara. Fortunately, I knew what that one was as my mum was always going on about it running when she cried. Over the course of a week, I managed to get there. I started out looking like some sort of monster zombie, then more drag queen and finally, I started to look pretty good. Less is more was an expression that my father was fond of, and at last, I had found a situation where it actually worked. A week after that, I had perfected my look, and it never ceased to amaze me how well I transformed. I plucked up the courage to use some scissors to very carefully trim my hair and give myself a nice even fringe. I then worked on the sides, shortening them. I did this gradually over a week, as I couldn't afford to get it wrong. Eventually, I had a very similar style to the one Carly had had in Survivor!

I had been on the island seven weeks now and I had washed and sorted all the girls' clothes and moved from my original camp to the container which I had turned into a proper cabin and made much more comfortable. There was some black volcanic glass at the summit of the island and I had managed to use some of that to cut a window through the side of the container to make it lighter. A lot of effort, but well worth it. Every day after I got up, I went for a swim in the red bikini. One morning I went down to the beach and spotted a boat out at sea. I could tell from the large observation platform that it was the coast guard, as I had seen their boats in the harbour many times. I darted back into the jungle hoping they had not spotted me. If they had, they didn't seem to care as there was no follow-up, but I felt very afraid and alone.

The next morning, after my swim, I had a typically fruity breakfast. That fruit and its secret ingredient was really filling me out and my breasts had probably reached a B cup and the bras fitted me much better. I had no idea why it was happening, but I was certainly not complaining. I loved how sensitive my nipples had become and how smooth I felt. I also only had to shave once every three days, which was fortunate as there were not many razor blades available and I was being very frugal with them. Fortunately, my legs were now virtually hairless.

Depending on how I felt after my swim or walk along the beach, I would put on some makeup. On days when I was gathering or sorting, I would not put too much on and put my hair up in a band. I would dress practically and wear a t-shirt and shorts. On the days that I was going to do some photography then I made a real effort. I had found some false eyelashes and, although they had been hard to get to work, I had now managed it, and loved the way they lifted my eyes. With some dark eye shadow and a little bit of bronzer, I felt I had a certain air of the femme fatale about me. I'd pick out sexier outfits and spend a while fussing with them.

Using some wood, I made a sort of tripod for my tablet and could set it up to take pictures of me at the best locations, making sure I always looked glamorous. I had a rather large collection and would spend the evenings critiquing the pictures and the way I looked in them. Not only that, I could see how I was changing physically and observed that my mind was catching up. I'm not saying that I was thinking like a girl, I wasn't, I was thinking exactly the same way I had always thought about things. The difference was that now things that were important to girls were taking centre stage, and things that were important to boys hardly bothered me at all. Same person, different persona.

Another week went by and I was still happy with my lot, enjoying discovering this whole new me. I recognised that it was becoming strangely normal and sometimes I would wake up and think that enough was enough. I chided myself and my inner voice told me that I should stop all this craziness and just focus on getting back to civilisation. Despite the overriding logic of those thoughts, I carried on. On the days I delayed, pondering on my madness, I would get worked up into quite a state until I slipped on some clean panties, did up my bra and brushed my hair. Only then did everything seem alright.

I suppose it was inevitable that I would question my sexuality. When I had watched Survivor I often dreamt of sleeping with Carly. I thought of kissing her and her taking me in her mouth. She had the most amazing mouth, such big luscious lips! I would cum and she would smile at me with her lips shining as she swallowed my seed. I would then lick her until she came and get myself completely hard again, at which point she would demand that I fuck her. They were nice dreams and always made me hard as a rock. However, I was very aware that there was another dimension now. I was Carly!

I found my multi-function pen knife. I had been a boy scout and had plenty of badges to show for it. If I had been a girl guide I'm sure I would have had just as many but in different things. I went for a walk through the jungle until I found what I was looking for. It was a fallen branch, not too thick and not too thin. It was also a nice hard and fine-grained wood so it would not splinter. I cut it to size and began to shape it until I had a fairly realistic-looking phallus. It had a handle, with grooves and two holes so I could tie it to things. I remember seeing a wooden phallus made by the Romans in a museum. The display went on about their cultural significance and how they were made to ward off evil. I laughed! They would say that, wouldn't they?

I fixed it to the front of the mirror with an attachment I had made and some cord that I wrapped around the back to secure it. I smeared it with the slimy juice from my favourite fruit. Apprehensively I knelt in front of it. I watched myself as my lips and tongue played with it. I watched as my lips wrapped around it. It was as if Carly was taking my cock in her mouth. It felt like I was Carly and I was sucking myself off. It just felt fucking amazing! I rubbed myself, and came so quickly, I gasped.

I made three more phalluses, all more accomplished and each a slightly different size. One was quite narrow but long. One I made look like my cock, and tried to include some ridges for veins. The last was quite big. I was quite impressed with my newfound talent for carving, but then I was highly motivated. Carly had been sucking my cock all week and really needed to be fucked. I was quite concerned about being safe. Obviously, I was not going to catch a disease, but I had no medical facilities and could not afford to hurt myself or get an infection. There was a particularly oily fruit growing in the jungle that looked like a small red avocado. I collected these and created a slippery paste. I ate a little and, although it really tasted unpleasant, I was fine the next day. It did not seem to be poisonous.

Smothered in my improvised lubricant, I inserted the smallest of my homemade cocks. It stung a bit and did not feel that great at first, but then neither did it feel that bad, just uncomfortable. Like I had something up my ass, I laughed. Once I was used to it, I began to move it in and out, slowly at first, and then with more pace. It began to feel quite nice. Really nice! I watched Carly in the mirror. She looked so hot and I felt so hot. She began to look like she was really enjoying herself, and sounded like it too. I came! By the end of the week, I had progressed to the largest of my three cocks and was really enjoying a bit of wood. I had tied the largest to a tree and was able to use it whenever I needed, which I have to confess, was at least twice a day. I had saved the carving of my cock for oral use and mounted it on a post near the tree so that I could suck it as I fucked myself. I really loved doing that, it was amazing!

I'd been on the island for almost ten weeks and, although I was fully invested in the new exciting me, the new exciting me was also beginning to realise that I had to get off the island. She was even more afraid of ending up in prison though, especially in a foreign country. I started keeping watch from the summit of the island in the early afternoon and, every day, there was a sign of some boats quite a way off. I decided that I would have to signal a boat somehow.

I created a pole on a stand with a cross stick that I could slide up and down. When I saw a vessel I liked the look of, I would line up my stick and the cross with the ship in the distance and then reflect sunlight onto it. That way the ship should see a flashing light coming from the island. Three dots, three dashes and three dots. All I had to do was identify a suitable ship. I had decided that a cruise ship heading east was what I needed. That would be heading away from the jurisdiction of my island.