Sadly, I don't own Pinocchio.

Please let me know what you think.

The Swim Back.

In truth, Pinocchio had never truly given any thought about how much of an advantage being made out of wood was; he wanted so much to become a real boy, a boy who was made from flesh and blood and bone, a boy whose legs and hands didn't clink as they moved thanks to the enchantment the Blue Fairy had placed on him after hearing his father's wish.

But this was the first time being a puppet, even an enchanted one, was a benefit. Thanks to being made out of wood, it was easy for Pinocchio to swim back home. It just seemed to be taking forever. Pinocchio didn't have a watch - it would likely be accidentally dropped to the bottom of the sea in any case, or the water would damage the mechanism - so telling the time was impossible, but the longer he and Jiminy swam back home, the more waterlogged his clothes became.

As he swam, his ears brushed against the fur of his new donkey ears. Each time that happened Pinocchio remembered vividly the horrible transformation Lampwick had suffered.

"Jiminy?" Pinocchio whispered, deciding to ask his conscience a few decent questions.

"What is it…Pinoke?" The cricket gasped, and the puppet realised the tiny cricket was struggling. Twisting himself around to face the cricket's direction and coming to a stop, Pinocchio gently lifted the cricket out of the water and placed him gently at the top of his hat.

"You're struggling," Pinocchio explained to the cricket. "I don't want to leave you behind."

The cricket chuckled. "Thank you, Pinocchio," Jiminy gasped. "It was tiring. Crickets aren't meant to swim long distances…"

"I know what you mean; I'm made of wood, and the journey back is taking forever," Pinocchio said.

"Yes, well, bear in mind we did reach the island by ferry…," Jiminy's voice trailed off, and Pinocchio wondered to himself what he had seen of the other boys.

The only boy he had truly known had been Lampwick, and while a few of the others had seemed nice enough after a couple of beers and some cigars and cigarettes, and a few tonnes of ice cream, Pinocchio had largely kept himself to himself rather than really socialise. His father might've told him to make friends….and that seemed like months ago, considering what had been happening today. Part of the reason stemmed from the encounters with Honest John and Stromboli. The last thing Pinocchio wanted was to become a target of the boys and be transformed into firewood by them, although he had no idea if they'd have gone that far.

"Jiminy… what did you see? You said you saw all of the boys, that they had become donkeys like… Lampwick. Wh-what happened?" Pinocchio stuttered a little; he had seen the effects of the transformation, and while it had been painless and Lampwick hadn't been truly frightened until he had brayed and realised something was wrong, Pinocchio was in two minds about the other boys.

Jiminy went quiet as he tried to think about how to answer the question. The cricket had been horrified by what he had seen in the dock. Crates of donkeys braying madly, some of them looking like they were crying and shaking their heads. He had never seen donkeys do that before and in such a human way. The coachman sorting one donkey at a time - when the cricket had first seen that, he'd wondered what the coachman was doing asking them their names; for a time he had assumed the coachman had gone mad before he had torn clothes off of one of the donkeys before kicked painfully into a crate. The second donkey the cricket had seen sorted in this manner had given his name as Alexander, and he had cried he wanted to go home to his mother and he didn't want to be a donkey. The coachman had then thrown him into a pen separate from the others, but what would happen to the transformed boy, the cricket did not know.

When the coachman called them out as boys, only then did Jiminy work out the hideous truth. He believed in magic, thanks to the things he had seen thanks to the Blue Fairy. But to see it being used like this… it was unthinkable.

Alexander had not been alone. The pen he was in was filled with a few other donkeys, and while they might have brayed a little, Jiminy had a feeling they had somehow retained their human identities. But the others… did they still have their human identities, their personalities? The idea of them being locked away within their own bodies which were transformed by whatever was on that evil island was horrific.

The problem was Jiminy didn't know enough about magic to form an opinion of what could be done to help them. In any case, when he had been on the dock realising what was going on, Jiminy had been struggling with the horror he had been witnessing. He had heard of boys who had struggled at school and in life, but what happened to them further down the line? The story sometimes varied; sometimes they would find a way to persevere, others might be homeless drunks and vagrants, as harsh as that was. Others might grow to become labourers and soldiers.

But the life imposed on the boys was being done to make sure they didn't have a choice. Jiminy had heard the coachman talking about prices, and how the donkeys the boys had become would fetch a large price. He knew there were dozens of industries that required donkeys to work on, and there was no doubt in his mind the boys would be subjected to years of hard labour.

Maybe, if the Blue Fairy or another sorcerer reversed the damage to their bodies at some point, if they had retained enough of their human personalities and identities, the boys would have learnt their lesson. But Jiminy was uncertain if it was that simple. The Blue Fairy could transform Pinocchio into a real boy, but the cricket wondered if there was a magical reason why that hadn't happened yet. Was the same thing true here? Were the boys already donkeys in soul rather than mind? He had a feeling the longer the boys lived as donkeys, the more difficult it would be for them to change back, assuming they did change back.

But he had not been able to help.

He wasn't a wizard.

He was just a cricket, a conscience who was trying to guide a living marionette to becoming a real boy. He knew nothing of magic, and he wasn't sure if any of the boys could be restored. He didn't know just how badly their minds had been affected, and besides, he had been frightened for Pinocchio; he wasn't sure if the magic of the island would affect the puppet in the same way the Blue Fairy's magic had animated him and given him his personality, and he didn't know if he'd had the time.

"I went to the dock to catch the boat home," Jiminy didn't bring up the argument he'd had with Lampwick and how he'd called the boy a jackass - he hadn't meant it in those terms - and he carried on, "and when I got there I found the coachman sorting the boys who were donkeys while crates full donkeys were lowered into the boat."

Pinocchio was silent as he considered what the cricket had told him before he began paddling. The brief break had done him good, but now he was thinking deeply about what he had just learnt. "Why are they doing this?" He asked.

"Profit, Pinocchio. Money," Jiminy spat the last word in disgust, angry and disgusted by how the coachman justified what he was doing. "I saw some of the crates; some of them are going to be sent to farms to cultivate and harvest crops, some will be working in the circuses, and others will be sent to other places. Donkeys are work animals in high demand."

Pinocchio wished he had never met Honest John and Gideon again. If he had just gone to school and began learning then perhaps he would be better prepared for revelations like this. "How do they get away with this?"

Jiminy sighed. "I don't know, Pinoke. Really, I don't. I've been trying to work it out myself. Pleasure Island has a reputation for being a fun place, but most of the visitors there must go back unless talk about it is spread by the coachman and his cronies."

Pinocchio thought through that. He could see the coachman and his shadowy friends doing that, but at the same time, he wasn't so sure. "Jiminy, when I was around Stromboli, I heard dozens of people yell about his act in the village. Do you think Pleasure Island is opened up all year round, and only a few people become donkeys?"

"You mean the park is open more frequently, but it's only at certain times of the year where the coachman has them transformed as donkeys?" Jiminy said.

"Could be," Pinocchio wasn't sure, but it would make sense. "Do you think we could have helped any of them, Jiminy?"

The cricket remembered what the Blue Fairy had said earlier tonight about lies growing, so he opted to be truthful. "Maybe, if we knew magic."

"You were right, Jiminy," Pinocchio decided to be honest as well.

"Right? About what?"

"You were right the whole time about being on that island. I like Lampwick. He didn't deserve that to happen to him, and seeing him transform and realise what he had become, listening to those brays as he panicked was both sad and terrifying. But I guess he wanted to enjoy the moment and not think about anything else but pleasure. I know now, to become a real boy I need to grow beyond temptation, to care more than things like pleasures like the ones those other boys wanted," Pinocchio stated clearly while he did his best to paddle. They could see the mainland up ahead, but it seemed so far away while it was highlighted in the night sky.

Jiminy was quiet as he mulled over what Pinocchio had just told him. "I wish we could have done something to help them, Pinocchio," the cricket said at last, "but even if we could have found Lampwick, had the time to calm him down and urge him up that cliff, donkeys can't climb and while I think they can swim, I have no idea if they could last long out here. Anyway, I don't know if the ones who were braying like Lampwick was could be changed back into a human, Pinoke, because I think they are donkeys in and out."

Pinocchio went silent as he swam back as the implications and the horrible truth set in; even if they could help those boys, would there be anything to save? Pinocchio swam on, feeling nothing but sadness at the thought that boys like Lampwick, boys he had seen on the island, were doomed to live as donkeys. On his way out of Pleasure Island, he had seen the island in ruins, and Pinocchio realised bitterly he had failed to learn an important lesson.

Not everything was as it seemed. On the outside, Stromboli had seemed like a nice man, a bit loud, but nice. Only for him to reveal his true colours. Honest John was as dishonest as they came, and he didn't care one little bit about whom he hurt unless it gave him something in the long run. But Pleasure Island had been like a fun place to be in when he'd first seen it, but on his way out the park was dark, eerily silent and for someone as unique as Pinocchio, it exposed the rotting flesh that lurked underneath the beauty of temptation.

At the same time, he wondered if being far from the island, and whatever it was that changed boys into donkeys would be reversed or stopped as soon as he was away.

But he didn't feel any different.

His body didn't feel like it was changing.

Taking that as a blessing, Pinocchio swam as fast as he could. "Do you think the coachman will be caught?" He panted.

"I don't know," Jiminy answered. "It might be as you put it, the coachman allows the park to be opened at certain times for people to visit it, and they go home without anything happening to them, or he just takes the boys there so they disappear suddenly. I hope he is, though."

"How long do you think it will take to reach the mainland, Jiminy?" Pinocchio gasped.

Jiminy lifted his head from his vantage point on Pinocchio's head. "Keep swimming."

Pinocchio did as he was told, mentally telling himself he would soon be back with his father, Cleo, and Figaro.