Preferred Partners - Part Four

Slowly but sure I find myself staring across the room as the sound of foots steps pace around the room beyond my sight.

With my gaze forced to stare straight ahead I slowly find an image forming in the mirror, a pain croak escaping my lips as I find myself staring at a ghostly pale bespectacled blue and black haired woman in her early twenties dressed in an over-sized black shirt.

I stare is disbelief as the extremely slender and bony young woman stares back, her gray eyes being wide before behind a massive oversized pair of round wire frame glasses. The massive set of spectacles rest atop a large angular nose, a small silver ring nestling through the right nostril, the bigger feature acting to contrast her delicate chin and jawline and large expressive eyes.

A messy mop of dense hair hangs around her head, the overgrown pixie cut having been left in a wild state of bedhead. The front, from fringe to her ears, is poorly dyed and weak and faded blue as the bleached follicles are beginning to show through. Her hair shifts to a natural black in the back half, visible as it all fluffs out in a tangle around her ears.

For a moment it seems she is merely dressed in a t-shirt. A massive tarp-like black Final Fantasy 14 t-shirt rests over her torso and stretching down to her mid-thigh, the blue printed design having been peeled within an inch of it's life. A set of black knee socks coat her slender legs, trailing up to squeeze her oddly soft and squishy thighs, the hint of a pink cat paw-print siting printed beneath her delicate feet.

Hidden beneath the massive shirt I can feel something hanging heavily from my chest. The massive weights sit unrestrained, drooping heavily and low as sweat building between my ribs and the bulbous mounds.

"This has to be a..." I begin to croak, my light and cutesy voice seeming to clash against the seriousness of my voice. From beside me I hear as someone else begins to call out, a man's voice coated in a thick South Korean accent as he too croaks in shock.

"This is not what I..." he begins to state, his words falling short as it is soon replaced with a long pained groan.

"Hello?" I call out, my voice quivering nervously as I try to get someone's attention. "I think you maaaaaa..." I begin to state, my jaw hanging open and my eyes growing unfocused as I feel some unseen force begin to rip through my skull.

It isn't painful, but it certainly isn't pleasant. It feels like something is searching my brain, ripping my thoughts away from one another with a Velcro-like tear before leaving them floating in the sea of my mind. Drool begins to drip from my soft link lips, slowly soaking my shirt as I feel more and more of my mind get torn to shreds.

Soon it feels as though I'm left adrift in a sea within my own thoughts, my mental form spread so widely across the surface of the water that I can't even make out where anything is. Slowly but surely I feel something begin to happen, the sliced and diced pieces of myself carefully getting nudged and sorted to parts unknown before the void is soon repaired.

After what seems like minutes, hours, even days in the fugue state of a fractured mind I finally feel the sensation stop. With a short gasp I breath in my mouth full of spit, coughing and gagging on it as my chest heaves painfully with each wracking cough.

"Ouchie..." I whimper, blinking rapidly as I hear my cutesy words slip out in my equally cutesy voice. Opening my mouth to say something again I freeze up, listening as I hear someone practically leap from a nearby booth with a long groan.

"Holy fucking shit that shit suuuucked..." grumbles the young man, a faint pause slipping through as he seems to notice something. "Yo, holy shit! Where the fuck did my accent go!?" he shouts excitedly, concerned and enthralled in equal measure.

 

A lumber set of footsteps, race over to the mirror in front of me as the young man soon blocks most of my own reflection. He stands around six feet tall, the figure in the mirror only slightly less pale than myself simply due to his own natural complexion. The man must only be around twenty-one or twenty-two, his youthful expression constantly shifting as he seems to test out he new face.

His hair is longer than my own, resting in a shaggy brown mess just above his shoulders. He has strong masculine features, though his strong jawline is mostly obscured by his awful patchy wiry facial hair. His slender frame is mostly hidden beneath a large pale green hoodie, a peeling x-box logo just barely visible on the left side of the chest.

Loose cheap jeans cover his legs along with partially covering a pair of dollar store sneakers that cover his feet. His outfit is definitely more put together than my own, the young man seemingly having had the chance to get dressed before his appointment.

His pale green eyes go wide as he catches a part of my face in the mirror, his gaze darting between my delicate face and his crotch with an eager grin.

"Holy fucking shit" he chuckles, his hand reaching down to squeeze the front of his baggy jeans. "I have a... Fuck is it actually this..."

"He-Yoon?" I whimper softly, my mouth hanging open as my words catch in my throat. It feels like I'm gagging on her name, my mouth refusing to make the movements to call for my cousin's wife.

I watch, seemingly dumbstruck at the young man in front of me, as He-Yoon turns around. Her lip quivers a little, a smirk slowly breaking out as I watch her pant leg shift worryingly.

"Awwwww" she coos mockingly, taking a step over to me before placing her hand on my chin. "They made you sooooo cute Jordan" she chirps in her newly deepened voice, her sentence falling short as she too seems to mentally lock up on the name.

I weakly swat her hand away, leaping to my feet as I find my chest bounce in an extreme fashion. The hidden orbs of fatty flesh tug at me painfully as they rebound from the jump, my skin and underlying tissue aching as I feel the strain of their weight of my new chest.

"Jordan... Fuck, Jordan..." He-Yoon grumbles, wincing as she feels her tongue tie itself in knots further and further with each attempt. Before long she can only get the 'J' out before freezing up, her sentence sounding like a broken and locked up DVD.

Looking up at her my stomach sinks. I find myself staring up at her to meet her gaze, my frame struggling to reach 5'4" without any shoes on my petite feet. However, the sudden shift in perspective isn't the only change I find hammering my shrunken body.

Something stirs inside me as I stare up, my heart fluttering as I find myself craving some form of attention from the strange man now piloted by my cousin's meek Korean wife. Cuddles, kisses, and thoughts of more slip into my train of thought as I'm forced to fight down each one.

"God damn it..." He-Yoon grumbles, turning to face someone on the other side of the room. "Why can't I say..."

"Try Sarah" chuckles the voice of an older man, his dry and crackling tone sounding relatively drained and tired. He-Yoon looks down at me, fidgeting and plucking at her jeans to relieve her discomfort. Sighing to herself she rolls her eyes before giving me a wink.

"So what do you think Sarah?" she chuckles, reaching over to ruffle my hair. Before she can reach me however her face twitches, her movement freezing up as something seems to click in place inside her head.

"Jordan Sarah... Jordan Sarah... Holy shit..." she wheezes, her hands reaching up to her new head as she clutches her temples. "Oh this is so fucking wild..."

"What are you... Why am I..." I whimper, sniffling as I feel myself growing to the verge of tears at the suddenness of the seeming mistake.

"Try Malcolm" the voice chuckles, the older man finally catching my attention in earnest.

The white haired gentle stands with a visible hunch in his back, leaning over the counter top in the corner as he checks the computer linked to the large devices. A bald spot appears to be growing at the back of his skull, his thinning hair revealing a small reddened patch on skin beneath. Unlike the woman in the previous room, this man seems to be in a far more comfortable state, the air around us being relatively cool compared to the other office.

"Malcolm?" I mutter in confusion, wincing visibly and my delicate hands ball up into fists. It feels like something forcefully slots itself into my skull, the painful yet numbing wedge pressing into the soft tissue within before twisting like a key in a lock. It's over almost as soon as it begins, the feeling vanishing while the memory still burns freshly in the forefront of my mind.

"Why is He-Yoon Malcolm a man now?" I croak out, the sentence fumbling from my lips as I find my body forcefully switching the names against my will.

The old man looks at me with a grin, shrugging his shoulders a little. "Your boyfriend has always been a man, at least as far as I know" he chuckles, looking down at the screen and then the Casio watch on his wrist. "Shit, next appoint is in... Look, when we digitized you two one was obviously a better choice as the man so we placed them as such. It's that..." he tries to explain, the answer leaving He-Yoon howling with laughter.

Looking down at me she leans over, trying her best to get face to face.

"Did you hear that? Less of a man than Big-Tits-Mc-... Um..." she trails off, lacking much in the way of shit talking practice from her old body. 

"That... that can't be..." I whimper, my lower lip quivering as I try to speak through the tears forming in my eyes. Suddenly, He-Yoon leans in as she places her lips on my own. With expert precision she slides her tongue into my mouth, a soft cooing escaping my lips as I feel her gently yet with undenyable force and skill begins to kiss my tender form.

I find myself leaning into it, but as soon as I do she pulls back as I'm left stumbling forward. Catching me in her arms she pats my head and back, laughing at my reaction. "Yeah, I think they got it right" she chuckles, the firm shape in her jeans rapidly pressing into me through my shirt-dress.

"So... all set?" Asks the older man eagerly, yet again glancing between us and his watch. "I still need to set up for.

"Put me ba..." I begin to whine, only to be cut off by He-Yoon.

"All set" she chirps, refusing to release me from the hug. I soon find myself stumbling along as she opens the mirrored door and drags me with her from the room. "Thanks again Doc."

I follow along as she pulls us through the lobby, the room being slightly more busy than the one we had come from though only by a little. The waiting room has one other person beyond the receptionist, though the design is nigh identical, a redheaded woman in a floral dress sits staring up at the small and cheap old CRT along with the doughy blonde sitting behind the counter.

I try to wriggle free, to ask the receptionist for help. However, as soon as I try to pull away I feel my feet rise off the ground. The arms around me squeeze my mid-section tightly, the heft mounds on my chest soon resting atop the arms of the Once-Korean-House-Wife turned young man behind me.

"We can talk about it in private" whispers a deep voice in my ear, the hot breath on my exposed slender neck and in my ear causing me to squirm as I'm met with an odd tingling. "I promise, you'll love this once I'm done with you" she continues, a soft murmur escaping my lips as I can't tell her intent behind the words.

As we exit the front door, He-Yoon spinning us so she can push the door open with her back, we soon find ourselves looking out over...