Ten Little Bimbos

Cast of characters

Elizabeth Besting

- Socialite. Traveled to Beau Island to become a model. Presently a bimbo.

Hannah Evens

- Beau Resort maid. Presently a bimbo.

Rena Lacke

- Psychiatrist. Traveled to Beau Island to negotiate a contract for a talk show.

Dr. Cara Lin

- Doctor. Professional medical license presently revoked. Reasons for traveling to Beau Island unknown.

Joan McKatt

- Private detective. Ex-cop. Reasons for traveling to Beau Island unknown.

Sam Morton

- Darkview strip bar owner/operator. Traveled to Beau Island Resort for vacation.

Eric Parker

- Beau Island Resort chef. Married to Tori Parker.

Tori Parker

- Beau Island Resort manager. Married to Eric Parker.

Aubrey Rush

- Chrystal Heights University professor- archeology. Came to Beau Island Resort to secure funding for next expedition.

Paul Straight

- Beau Island Resort security specialist.

Part 3

The sunrise as viewed from Beau Island is beautiful. But none of the guests or staff chose to take advantage of the spectacular view this morning.

Some of the guests ate a breakfast. Some of them did not. Some just had coffee, although they wouldn't drink it until an exasperated Tori, manager of the Beau Island Resort, drank two cups in quick succession to show it was completely safe.

There was a strange foreboding to the day, a sense that something was going to change, a feeling that a new dynamic was in play or would be soon.

Some of that could be written off as anticipation of the morning ferry. A number of guests and staff expected to arrive on this morning's ferry would almost certainly change the shape of the social strata at the resort and that created a certain breathless expectancy in some of the guests.

And some of the grim foreboding could easily be attested to the knowledge that two of their party- the unfortunate Hannah Evens, a Beau Island Resort maid, and the equally unfortunate guest, the socialite Elizabeth Besting- had been turned into bubble-headed, sexually needy bimbos yesterday. The maid during lunch, the socialite during the evening meal.

And some of it could even be due to the fact that the owner of the Beau Island Resort- Mister Benjamin Ian-Merigold Beau himself- was due to arrive on the ferry this morning.

But much of the dark gloom hovering over the island came from the knowledge that until the ferry arrived, they were alone on an island, far from the mainland and- as the island was still without wifi or any form of Internet access at the moment- completely isolated from the world.

Some might have called being this free of the living net that covered everything liberating. Others might have called it relaxing.

But to those patiently waiting for the arrival of the ferry- and humanity- from the mainland, it was called being trapped.

*****

"She has no clue. None of them do. Perfect."

"Did I sell it? Maybe. Not sure. But if today goes right, this whole thing will be worth it."

"Yes. Yes, of course. I shall make it happen. As I always do."

"It's possible. In fact, I think that's the way to go. Yeah, that should work."

"I can still salvage this. Misdirection. Yes, that's the ticket."

"Jerk. Fucking jerk. I'll show him. I'll show them all."

"They think they know me. They have no idea what I'm about. But they're going to find out. Boy, are they going to find out."

"This is what it's all about. A big stage. The biggest. They'll all be mine."

*****

Hannah Evens was- technically speaking- a maid employed by the Beau Island Resort. Her job was- technically speaking- straightening the guest rooms, replacing the used towels and sheets, providing toiletries to any requiring them, dusting the lobby and generally helping any way she could- even in the kitchen, if necessary, as Hannah was presently the only domestic staff person on the island. Another staff person was supposed to be arriving on the ferry later this morning.

The fact that another staff person was due later in the morning was probably a good thing, as Hannah was unable to perform her assigned duties in any meaningful way at this time.

That's not to say Hannah wasn't servicing the guests. She was indeed providing a much-appreciated function. But Hannah's method of ensuring guest satisfaction was likely outside the definition management had assigned to the term customer service.

Hannah was dancing. The blonde girl was naked and her body was moving to a sultry beat, her arms high, her hips softly rolling side-to-side. It was a hot, sensuous dance, and her nipples were hard.

Hannah twirled, bare toes moving with erotic precision. Then she rolled a hip and glanced over her bare shoulder at her audience. She looked through heavy-lidded eyes and slid her tongue over her lips.

Hannah's audience was very appreciative, even if it only consisted of one person. That one person was seated before Hannah, watching Hannah's every move. She too was naked, her fingers sliding into her wet sex as she watched the maid's sensuous dance.

The blonde girl twirled again, then faced her audience of one. She did a dip, licked her lips again and then jiggled her boobs side-to-side.

Dr. Cara Lin smiled as she watched the blonde maid dance. The Asian woman's fingers stroked into her wet sex with surprising energy, her hips beginning to buck slightly.

Dr. Lin smiled as she felt herself peaking. The blonde maid was so perfect. She was art. Pure art.

*****

Beau Island Resort manager Tori Parker sat down. She glanced at her husband Eric- the resort chef- on one side of the table and at her security man Paul Straight on the other side of the table.

"All right," said Tori. "Let's get this staff meeting started."

"What about Hannah?" asked Eric. "She's still Beau Resort staff too, you know."

Tori sighed. "I'm aware of that, sweetie," she said. "But you know as well as I do that it would be a wasted gesture."

Eric grumbled. "Yeah, yeah, I know. I just...I just feel bad excluding her, that's all."

"We all do," said Tori "but let's move on. Where are we at in getting communications back up on the island?"

Paul shifted uncomfortably. "Nothing yet. We have no Internet, no wifi, no signal, nothing. Even the shortwave is nothing but static. It's like we're being intentionally blocked or jammed."

"That's not an acceptable answer, Straight," said Tori. "We're on a fucking island. We need to get in touch with the mainland and we can't wait around for you to get your thumb out of your ass."

Paul flushed. "That's not fucking fair, Tori. If someone's jamming everything, we can hardly expect them to walk up to me and say something like, 'Hey, Paul, come check out this cool jamming unit I set up in my room!'."

Tori shook her head. "So we're back to this mysterious espionage agent who is apparently jamming us for his own nefarious purposes. Tell me, have you even checked for the source of this 'jamming'?"

Paul rolled his eyes. "Give me a break, Tori. What am I supposed to do...rifle every guest's room and check for high-tech jamming electronics?"

"If it comes down to that," said Tori, "then yes, I

do

expect you to conduct a search using those very parameters. You're security, remember? But that's not what I was referring to just now. What I meant was, have you even bothered to search the grounds? Have you checked outside the main building? Have you checked the pool house? The beach?

Anything?

"

Paul opened his mouth to reply, but Tori held up a hand.

"Don't bother answering," said the manager, her features stern. "I can already guess the answer. As soon as this meeting ends, you'll go over the whole resort- with the exception of the guest rooms- to make sure we're not being intentionally jammed. If at that time you still feel we are being "jammed", then you will make a discrete check of the guest's rooms. A

discrete

check. Do I make myself clear?"

Paul nodded. His teeth were clenched.

*****

Rena Lacke, psychiatrist, and Aubrey Rush, CHU archeology professor with an Indiana Jones reputation, were drinking coffee at the dining room table.

There was a tension between them that was difficult to define. The casual observer might think that the tension was due to the fact that Professor Rush had led an expedition into the Chrystal Mountains and her whole team of grad students- a team that included Rena's cousin Caroline- had been captured by natives and turned into tribal sex slaves. The casual observer would likely be at least partly right.

However, another casual observer- or better yet, voyeur- might think the tension was more an erotic tension, due to certain extensive activities that had taken place the previous day and again during the night, despite the disruptions that had taken place during the previous day's meals. And that observer would also be at least partly right.

Joan McKatt, private detective, entered the dining room and set her coffee cup on the table, then sat down. Rena and Aubrey offered the black ex-cop a congenial nod.

McKatt nodded back and took a swallow of her black coffee. Then she said, "Well, what do you think?"

Rena and Aubrey looked at each other, then at McKatt.

"What are you referring to, detective?" said Rena.

Joan gave Rena a look. "Stop it, Lacke," said the ex-cop. "You know what I mean. Who do you think is doing it? Who's trying to turn the whole resort into a brainless sorority?"

Rena gave a half-smile. "Why, detective. You have such a suspicious mind."

McKatt snorted. "Oh, please, Lacke," she said. "Don't blow smoke at me. And don't try to pretend you're so naïve that you think it's all coincidence or 'local elements'. You know damn well someone intentionally bimboed the maid and the model wannabe."

Rene sighed. "Yes, I'm forced to agree with you that it was intentional. I suppose the question is whether it was just intended for those two or if the person responsible plans more."

McKatt said, "I've been trying to think of something that connects the maid to Elizabeth Besting. Something that would indicate why the two of them specifically would be targets. But I'm not coming up with anything. Granted, it would be a lot easier if we could interview friends and family members, but I suspect it wouldn't change anything."

"Are you sure, Joan?" said Aubrey. "I mean, maybe there's a connection we're just not aware of. What if Elizabeth wasn't really coming here to be a model?"

Rena and McKatt gave Aubrey an odd look.

Aubrey held up a hand. "Hear me out," she said. "What if Elizabeth and Hannah were actually a team of criminals working together to steal from the guests? Hannah could conceivably snatch items while she was cleaning and then pass them to Elizabeth. Somebody found out and decided to stop them. Or get revenge, maybe."

Rena said, "Imaginative, I'll grant you, but an unlikely scenario."

"Why?" said Aubrey.

McKatt took a swallow of coffee. "Sorry, professor, but Lacke is right. That's a high-risk job and the mechanics just don't fly. For one, an escape route is always a top priority. No criminal is going to trap themselves on an island. Two, nobody's gonna bring anything to this island worth taking that kind of risk for."

"We don't know that," said Aubrey. "Aren't Benjamin Beau and his wife arriving this morning? Maybe they're bringing something with them."

McKatt rolled her eyes. "You're a writer, aren't you?"

Aubrey grinned. "Yep. Adventure stories."

Joan grumbled. "I should have known."

*****

"Now," said Tori, "on to the next order of business. We have several guests and employees arriving in the next hour or so."

Paul nodded. "Yeah. According to the docket, we should be getting another maid on the ferry, along with a kitchen helper for Eric and a bellhop slash attendant to help guests with their luggage to and from the ferry."

"About time," said Eric. "I'm a chef, not a waiter."

"I was hoping for an overnight attendant as well," said Tori, "but I suppose Mr. Beau hasn't found anyone yet. How many more guests are we expecting?"

"Several," said Paul. "A network producer of some sort is supposed to be staying here for a few days, for one. Some model recruiter also. And a couple other bigwigs as well. Beau should have sent more help."

"Network producers?" said Eric. "Is that for me...?"

"You mean 'us', sweetie," said Tori, "and I don't know. Didn't one of the guests say something about meeting a network representative this weekend?"

Paul nodded. "Rena Lacke said something about that. The psychiatrist."

Tori looked frustrated for a moment. Then her features relaxed. "Well, maybe the network representative is doing double-duty on this trip."

Paul nodded. "Maybe."

Tori suddenly looked sharply at Paul. "Wait. Aren't you supposed to meet the new guests at the dock?

Paul said, "Yes, I am. The ferry was supposed to arrive early this morning to pick me up. I was hoping to slip Hannah and Elizabeth Besting onto the ferry and get them off the island before Mr. Beau arrived, but the ferry never showed."

Tori's face darkened. "You were going to do that without checking with me first?"

Paul sighed. "Look, Tori, I realize you don't like me and to be honest, I don't care for you either, but we need to work together on this, all right? Did you really

want

Mr. Beau arriving to find a couple of unscheduled bimbos?"

Tori opened her mouth to deliver a retort, but then changed her mind. Finally she said, "I suppose not."

"Exactly," said Paul. "I figured also it would give me a chance to brief him before he got here. I really didn't want him walking into this unexpectedly."

"Good point, Straight," conceded Tori. "All right, it was a good idea. You still should have told me, though. But more to the point, why didn't the ferry arrive this morning?"

"Could be anything," said Paul. "Early morning high seas likely prevented the pilot from being able to land the boat on our beach. He probably tried to radio us to let us know, but..."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. No communications," said Tori. "All right, that makes sense, but it still screws us."

"It's not ideal," said Paul, "but I'll meet Mr. Beau at the beach when the ferry gets here and I'll brief him then." he leaned back in his chair, eyes closed and shaking his head. "He's not going to be happy."

"I imagine not," said Tori. "No communication with the mainland, no signal, no reception, a guest and an employee bimboed and we have no clue who did it."

Eric suddenly laughed. "No idea who did it?" he said. "I think it's pretty damn obvious who did it."

*****

"So tell me," said McKatt. "Who did it?"

Rena offered a half-smile. "I assume you're excepting the three of us as the potential villain?"

"I except no one," said McKatt. "Everyone's a suspect until proven otherwise. But yeah, you and the prof are low on the list."

"Why so, detective?"

Aubrey suddenly said, "Because we're professionals, right?"

Rena turned to Aubrey. "I beg your pardon?"

Aubrey said, "Well, of everyone on the island right now, we're the professionals. You're a top-flight psychiatrist, I'm a university professor and Joan is a police officer."

"Ex-police officer," said McKatt.

"Okay, ex-police officer, but still a professional position."

"What about Dr. Lin?" said Rena, sounding amused.

Aubrey shook her head. "Didn't she have her license revoked or something like that? Besides, even if she didn't, she's a strange fish. I have no problem picturing her doing something exactly like that."

Rena offered another half-smile. "And the others? You don't consider hospitality management a professional position? Or a chef? Or security consultant?"

McKatt laughed. "'Security consultant'? That's generous of you, Rena, I think calling Straight a 'security consultant' is giving him too much credit."

Rena said, "Interesting. You don't think he's qualified for his position?"

McKatt thought for a moment before speaking. Then she said, "I'm not yet sure. He's no dummy, I'll agree, but I don't think he does well under pressure. Ever since that recording, it's like he's trying to check everything at once, but not getting

anything

done. Scrambling. Like he's still a security guard at heart trying to do a job too big for him."

Rena said, "How about Tori Parker, the resort manager?"

McKatt said, "Parker's a possibility. A real commanding presence, that one. She's got her husband completely under her thumb and I'm pretty sure the maid was too, before her accident. And probably even more so now. Straight's "island of bimbo slaves" concept sounded silly at the time, but now I'm starting to wonder."

Aubrey said, "You seriously think she wants an island of bimbo slaves?"

"I see the writer is diving back into creative mode," said McKatt dryly. "I didn't say I thought that was the case. I just said the concept fits her personality. But I don't see how she could pull something like that off under the nose of her boss."

"Benjamin Beau?"

McKatt nodded. "It's Beau's island, right? And his resort. So no, I can't see the bimbo island concept working."

Rena pushed on. "How about Tori's husband Eric?"

McKatt said, "The celebrity chef? Not impossible, I suppose, but doubtful. I'd probably put him last of all."

Aubrey said, "Last? Really? You do remember both bimbifications occurred during meals, right?"

McKatt nodded. "I'm aware of that, prof. But that feels like white noise to me. Distraction, savvy? Chef-Boy-R-D has a pretty smile and probably looks good on television, but I'm pretty sure Tori's the brains of that operation. If he's got the smarts to pull off a stunt like this, then he's a much better actor than anyone I've ever met and I'll tip my gorram hat to him."

Rena smiled at Joan's statement. "You appear to feel very strongly, detective."

Joan shrugged. "I was a cop before I was a detective. You get a feel for people and their motives."

Rena said, "Motives, detective? What could motivate someone to turn people into aroused bimbos?"

Joan smiled. "You're

really

not familiar with Chrystal Heights or Darkview, are you, Lacke?"

Lacke stirred. "I'm familiar enough with Chrystal Heights, detective. I simply meant-"

McKatt held up her hand. "I apologize, Lacke, and yes, I understand what you meant. To answer your question, typical motives usually involve power, love, money, revenge or sex. Money or power most often."

"But this doesn't appear to fall into any of those categories, detective," said Rena.

"I know," said McKatt. "The recording wants to make us believe this is about justice."

*****

The giggling redhead dropped to her knees. She reached out and grasped the zipper, then pulled it down. The sound of the zipper coming undone made the nipples of her non-existent breasts harden.

Sam Morton didn't wear underwear, so Elizabeth Besting had no trouble pulling out his substantial cock.

"That-a-girl, Lizzy," said Sam. "You know what to do with that, right?"

Lizzy giggled, Sam's words barely registering. He was saying something, but it wasn't important. What was important was the yummy cock right in front of her.

His meat was heavy in her hand. Thick. Lizzy lifted it, ran her tongue along the underside. Her belly muscles twitched as she did so.

The guy's cock hardened then, hardened right up, totally rigid. She slid the bulbous head between her lips, taking as much of his shaft into her mouth as she could.