Bodyy Balm - Part One

Most people though only knew the stories, having never gotten aboard the hype train or being able to find the scant few supplies before they left the shelves. However, beyond the illicit market some boxes of the stuff keep turning up. From old warehouses shipping the wrong stock they missed to garage sales including old half-used ointments.

It was from one of these that I found myself embroiled in the terrible and awe-inspiring substance. With me finding a crate of Bodyy Balm.

The sun beats down at my windows, my tiny apartment turning into a veritable oven in the excruciating heatwave. Despite having my blinds drawn, my living space living in near-complete darkness, the rooms swelter in the overwhelming heat.

Sadly I had not been able to merely hide inside my apartment through this. While the pavement outside could cook an egg the heat inside had cooked my fridge, the old machine finally giving out several days ago with a loud splutter. Unable to afford a replacement I had been going to the supermarket every day to buy food, the sun searing my skin on each of the short trips.

I couldn't just wear more clothes, the risk of heatstroke being all too real, and I certainly couldn't continue going out without some kind of protection. My arms and face had already started turning pink, the harsh UV rays literally cooking me more and more on each trip.

To that end I had made the decision to order in some heavy-duty sunscreen, the local chemist being the only thing that still delivered during the sudden burst of awfully high temperatures.

A knock at the door quickly catches my attention, though it wouldn't look that way from the outside. I sluggishly turn to the door, heaving myself up and off of the sofa as I leave behind a dark silhouette of sweat where I had been slumped.

I barely manage to drag myself to the door, the feeling of my sweat-logged clothing weighing me down with each step. My hair clings to my forehead and neck, acting as fast lanes for sweat to drip down over me. I fumble with the doorknob as the pounding grows louder, struggling to grip the round handle before finally opening it.

Standing in the doorway is an equally sweaty man, his reddened face pouring with sweat after having to climb the stairs in this heat. Before I can even confirm who I am he shoves a large box into my arms, the blank white cardboard container being covered in tape.

With his hands no free he quickly wipes down his brow, whipping the sodden baseball cap from his head as he tries to cool off. I on the other hand find myself straining with the box, my weakened state leaving my arms quaking under the honestly quite meager weight. I feel something rattling inside, the sound of metal canisters clinking and clanking with the quivering of my arms.

"Fuck..." the guy whispers under his breath, holding his head back as he tries to wipe down his face. "...I mean, Mr. Hughes?" he finally asks, realizing his slip up.

"Yes?" I reply, looking between him and the box that was supposed to contain a single bottle of sunscreen. Placing at my feet I cock my eyebrow, looking down at the man quizzically. "I...um...I thought I only ordered one bottle?" I say, my sentence flittering between question and statement.

The man just shrugs, obviously too overheated and not paid enough to care about a fuck up.

"Guess you lucked out" he states, shrugging his shoulders. "Half the staff aren't in so probably a mix-up. Not my problem though, this was the only thing in the delivery bay so I delivered it. If I were you I'd be happy with my... I'm guessing six for one special?" the man chuckles, tugging at his collar as he cools off.

"I guess..." I murmur, nudging the box inside with my foot. "Do I need to sign for..."

"Nah" sighs the man, still simply cooling off in the dark hallway. He takes a moment before a look of realization washes over him, his eyes going wide. "Right, no nothing to sign for a small order. We just run them through the front counter like normal. I'm just..." he explains, taking a deep breath as he seems to shudder at the thought of something.

Sighing to himself he begins to trudge off, his shoulders slumping as he walks ever closer to the dreadful heat outside.

"Uh...thank you" I call out, watching him turn towards the stairs. The man doesn't even respond, instead walking slower and slower as he descends in an effort to delay his exit as long as he can. I don't wait for him, however, quickly returning to my apartment and closing the door behind me.

As I step back in and close the door I let out a pained groan, a wave of disgusting muggy heat washing over me. The small size of my apartment, combined with the lack of air conditioning worked to make the place swelter like a sauna. Even the hallway was nicer, benefiting from having no external windows and through the slight relief of the air conditioning of other tenants.

Still, I needed this place simply for the price. Since losing my job at my local college through budget cuts I had been living lean, and this apartment was just a piece of that puzzle. Soon though I would be forced to start selling things or move out, my savings buffer being close to its end.

Grumbling under my breath I kick and tap the box over to the sofa before dropping down into the cushions, making an active effort to avoid the heavily stain sweaty patch I had just left. Leaning over I tear into the box, the heavily tapped mess looking surprisingly dusty for something that had just been ordered yesterday. The tap clings to my hands, the cardboard leaving tiny paper cuts as I try to peel apart the top, but eventually I rip it open.

My jaw drops as I see what's inside, the jostling pink and blue canisters being all too distinctive. I had never seen one in person, let alone six, the stock flying from the shelves faster than anyone could really get their hands on the stuff.

"Bodyy Balm?" I whisper, my voice low and quiet out of an abundance of caution. This stuff was illegal at this point, the amnesty period for turning in old stock having passed well over a year ago. Illegal and expensive though, with each bottle running from the tens to hundreds of thousands of dollars if you found the right buyer.

"This must have been missed..." I mutter, reaching in to take one of the coke can sized canisters from the box. It's surprisingly weighty, the dense ointment inside giving it far more heft than it looked. With a loud click I twist off the top, the cream inside looking relatively clear and only slightly opaque. I can see the inside of the can through it, the same neon pink on the exterior lining the inside as splotches on an otherwise jet black background.

With my heart racing I swipe a small dab from the canister, finding the tiny blob practically clear on the tip of my finger. I carefully rub it beneath my eyes, the stories of the deformed folks who took too much leaving me using the least I can manage.

Whipping my phone from my pocket I open the camera, watching in awe as the heavy dark bags from days without proper sleep suddenly shift and return to the taut and healthy shape they should have been. My jaw drops and my heart races, my eyes darting between the image of myself in my phone and the box on the floor.

"They're...real..." I croak out, the reality sinking in. "I'm... I'm rich... and a criminal..." I whimper, the dilemma of what I had stumbled into quickly dawning on me.

If I were to keep these I could do all sorts of things, the tutorials of how to mold bodies still existing despite the lack of product to perform the changes. I could improve myself, make me a better me at least in terms of appearance. Hell, I could even make a new me from scratch.

"Is that how I can sell it?" I muse, twisting the open can between my fingers. "In...disguise?"

I can't quell the worries of messing with my own body though, the images of those melted flesh monstrosities remaining burned into my mind to this day. But what if it wasn't my body being the disguise? I had enough of the stuff to run that old prank one last time...or six. They wouldn't even need to know I did it, I could just stumble across them and help them out.

If I could get a temporary new body I could sell the product as someone else, hide the money, ditch them and then take the cash. My face drops as I consider what I was thinking, of condemning at least one person to the half life that was being some puddle of living flesh once I was done. What's to stop them from talking once it was over? They'd need to disappear to...

I leap to my feet, stopping the train of thought before it can get too far. I begin to pace my apartment, the gears turning in my mind as my lips curl into a smirk. Why did they have to disappear? Jordan Hughes could just go missing one day while someone else gets, secretly and illegally, fabulously wealthy. I'm a smart guy, I could probably fool everyone with the right...

I'm forced once again to break the chain of thought, smacking my cheeks hard enough to leave them red and stinging.

"I can't do that...can I?" I ask myself, looking around my apartment. I couldn't believe I was considering it, but after so many months without any luck as my options slowly dwindled I couldn't deny these thoughts felt like some boon or salvation.

"I...I could just..." I mutter, practically whimpering as I fight the devil on my shoulder. "Maybe I should ask someone else... share the balm with..." I continue, pausing as I try to consider who I'd share it with. Maybe a family member who could use it, or maybe one of my neighbors. The thought of helping someone else with the balm making me feel slightly more at ease after those more twisted thoughts from moments ago.

I continue around the room for a bit, my eyes darting between the box, the balm in my hand, and the apartment at large. With a deep breath I finally make my decision, I'll...