Harsh and overpowering light bombards my eyes as I stir and claw my way to consciousness. As my eyes flutter open I'm forced to immediately close them again more tightly than before as what feels almost like a spotlight shines in my face. My head pounds painfully as I become more and more aware of the world around me, the whole process feeling awfully slow thanks to a heavy fog filling my mind.
The room around me is filled with a general hum of different voices, the collection of individuals softly chatting to each other building to be greater than the sum of its parts. I try my best to focus on any of the conversations in the hopes of working out where I was, however, I find what little snippets I can find slipping through my mental fingers like grains of sand.
I try to think back to what I had been doing before finding myself here. I had been contacted by a recruiter for a job interview, apparently my multiple degrees would be of use to some hush hush project. I remember driving out to the industrial district, to an old warehouse on the fringes, though I struggle to remember anything beyond walking in through the doors of the small office at the edge of the warehouse.
As more of my faculties return I feel something wrapped around my wrists and ankles, a set of heavy bindings holding me up in a standing position as I'm pinned to some sort of wall. The sound of wailing and begging soon reaches me from my left and right, the voices both from men and women sounding hoarse and drained of energy as well. Cold air bombards me, the creeping chill making it known that I was without any sort of clothing beyond the straps pinning my limbs
As I try to inch my eyelids open once again a loud blast of noise reverberates through the room, the sound of fingers tapping a microphone sounding out from a series of loudspeakers. The crooning deep voice that soon follows reeks of a sleazy salesman, each word positively dripping with snake-oil.
"Welcome one and all to our naughty little auction" announces the salesman, the discordant voices of the crowd chuckling along. "Before we begin a reminder that we take no responsibility for... unexpected changes. We can't test compatibility like our competitor, but with offers like this I'm sure the risk is well worth it."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Around five year ago a new scientific discovery was made.
With no small amount of effort some primordial essence was found to reside in each and every person, a seed of their consciousness that would develop along with them. Many heralded this as the discovery of the soul, the true self within, and despite the loaded language it wasn't far from the truth.
This essence was the person, every thought and memory hidden deep inside of them and acting through the rest of the body's structures in a symbiotic relationship. While this discovery was huge there was little that it could be applied to, with no way of interacting being found for quite a while afterward.
It wasn't until last year that this essence was distilled, made tangible through years of experimentation and some leaps forward made by less than ethical practices. Under the right conditions if the body were to be broken down this essence would remain, a ball of wriggling sludge that could barely move faster than a crawl on its own. While they found they could communicate with it, the essence having a faint yet distorted voice similar to its old one, these conversations couldn't go for longer than an hour or so at a time. Without a proper vessel to maintain and nourish the essence it would fade away over time, turning to an inert pile of ooze if left in its free state.
While many tried to find a suitable replacement vessel for the essence none was found that could keep it alive for more than a day or so. However, due to either accident or purely unethical behavior a solution was found. If the essence was consumed before fading it would rapidly make a new home inside the new living vessel, becoming able to mentally communicate with the host. These early tests, thankfully, turned out fine based purely on luck and luck alone. However, that would not last.
As more tests were performed on what was being commonly called 'Fusion Therapy' several side effects were quickly identified. The likelihood of these adverse reactions to the fusion seemed at first to be based on chance, however, it was soon discovered that there was a factor of 'compatibility' between the essence and the shared host body. Tests were rapidly developed to test the compatibility between a new essence and the host, these tests also quickly finding that simply because the host had been in their body their whole life it did not necessarily mean they had high compatibility with it.
These side effects eventually became formalized;
Feature Creep
Where the added essence has less than ideal compatibility (Both too much and too little would do) with the host body features of the essence's old body have a chance to slowly seep through into the host, oftentimes overriding or merely blending with the host's own features.
In milder cases this could involve the blending of eye or hair colors to create a new tone altogether, or the host's complexion shifting towards that of the essence's former body.
In more extreme cases this could involve the host's age rapidly shifting towards the essence's, height drastically shifting in an often painful manner, or even sexual organs swapping.
Shared Control
Where the added essence has more than ideal compatibility, or at least equal or greater compatibility than the host's own essence, there is a chance that the added essence can wrestle control of their shared body from the host.
The duration of these episodes can vary, depending on a variety of factors from willpower to the nature of the personalities, but can last from anywhere between seconds to months.
Inverse Hosting
Where the compatibility of the new essence is higher than the host's to a sufficient degree the host can accidentally find themselves trapped in the passenger's seat of their own body. While not as common as shared control, reported cases do appear frequently enough.
With no way of forcing the essences to separate again, there is no cure for this condition. This more than most making the case for testing compatibilities prior to taking on any Fusion Therapy
Rejection
Simply put, where the compatibility of an essence with its host is too low the body will simply reject it. This is precipitated with bouts of nausea as the essence builds up in the guts before exiting the body in an unpleasant manner.
If this occurs it becomes a race against time to find the essence a new temporary host or to at least find it a temporary vessel to extend its chances of finding one before fading.
Inverse Rejection
A rare yet well-publicized side effect. Where the new essence has much high compatibility with its new host body and the host has very poor compatibility not only can control of the body trade over but the original host can be rejected by the body.
While a rare outcome it is often used as an example of why testing is necessary, a fearful reminder to be reasonable and moderate with Fusion Therapy.
While at first this new Fusion Therapy was used to save the lives of the terminally ill or those on life support with no chance of recovery the usage slowly expanded away from purely medical purposes.
Noticing how features could creep through into the host from the added essence the wealthy began to see the process as a 'natural' way of making changes to their body. seeking out those at the end of their rope, the destitute and the desperate, these wealthy few would offer to become a host in the hopes of gaining some perceived benefit.
After the first largely accidental success, an eighty-seven-year-old old money matron returning to her early-thirties thanks to the addition of the essence from a twenty-year-old man, a new industry started up. Catering exclusively to the super-rich, these new firms would find new essences and provide extensive testing in the hopes of generating the desired results. From finding the perfect physical traits to seeking out someone to act as a backup brain or who had a specific desired knowledge or skill, these firms became the go-to for those with more money than sense.
While this was all well and good for those who could spend millions to afford it what could the majority of people do besides being fodder for these schemes. What of the dim-witted who needed an edge provided by a second educated mind, or the old empty-nester wanting to regain her youth?
For those whom the proper firms would never see another option soon emerged, an underground network that would appear and disappear around the world. Taking people in less than legal manners these groups would quickly sell them off at auction, the process of releasing their captives' essence and fusing it with a new host leaving little to no evidence behind of their crimes.
While cheaper, fueled by a need to burn through stock, these secret auctions had one major downside. In the necessary haste of this enterprise, there was no time for testing, leaving the compatibilities completely unknown and up to chance. Despite this terrifying downside people would flood these clandestine meetings, eager to get a second mind to bolster their own or to swipe up some trait they hoped they'd be able to take through Feature Creep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Straining weakly against the restraints at my wrists and ankles I hear the sleazy voice grow closer, the noise coming from not only the speakers but also directly from the unseen figure as he approaches me.
"Ladies and gentle, this one has spirit doesn't he?" the salesman declares, a firm hand suddenly striking my side with a sting as my eyes shoot open.
Fighting through the glare I find myself looking out into a crowd of shadowy face, the bright hastily assembled stage lights making it difficult to see any of the features in the talkative roil mass of people. The warehouse I had driven to, or at least one like it, appeared to be filled with people as each and every one of them jostle for position.
Next to me stands a relatively short man, barely far over 5'6", in a tacky poorly fitted suit. His dark brown hair is all I can really make out from my raised angle, the greasy slicked-back style screaming slimeball.
"This one here, you don't need to know his name, is twenty-seven years old. He stands six foot four inches, is relatively slender, and has no known major medical conditions" the salesman explains in a matter-of-fact tone, pausing for a second as he pats my crotch. "Well...aside from the condition of having a nice big ten-inch cock. He's one of the largest we have here today folks, but that's not all. He's educated folks! Three. Separate. Degrees! It's taken him his whole life to earn them, but it could take you one lucky bid! Buy it for yourself, or maybe for that special someone lacking in the bedroom. Hell he'd make a great graduation present, four degrees for the price of one or maybe a little leg up for someone entering college."
The crowd becomes a sudden mixture of cheering and murmurs, a variety of voices bombarding me as I try to shake myself awake and free from my tight restraints.
Thankfully, I watch as the salesman begins to walk away, edging himself closer to my neighbor. My eyes go wide as I follow him, my gaze eventually falling on the row of similarly tied-up people. A tall, willowy, yet downright stacked redhead with luscious curly hair hangs next to me, her gaze unfocused and plump lips hanging open.
"Let's start with this one though, I think you'll need more time to think about the young man there" the salesman calls out with a knowing nod, his free hand reaching up to poke his fingers past the redhead's lips in an effort to display their plump size.
"This one is a what you see is what you get deal. She's twenty-five, a secretary with no qualification who has been coasting by on her looks. Well, those looks could be yours. Your cock-sucking lips, your tits made for a goddess, your perfect hour..."
"Four hundred!" calls a voice from the crowd, cutting the salesman off as he quickly points to the person causing a stream of the redhead's spit to splatter into the front row.
"Five hundred!" calls another. "One thousand!" howls a third. The crowd turning into a screaming rabble as they try to outbid one another for the redhead. I try to speak, my tongue feeling heavy in my mouth as I attempt to form words.
As I finally manage to muster enough strength to say something, anything, I'm cut short by the salesman.
"Going once, going twice...sold"
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