On the stage the large glass box filled with the now rather familiar fog is rolled out, the Hostess looking towards it as the studio audience roars with excitement.
"That's right..." The Hostess announces, gesturing towards the strange device. "It's time to bring one of our contestant's back home, back to their own body, and out of the running to win our fabulous grand prize" she continues, the crowd going wild at the mention of the life changing money on the other end of one contestant's journey through a new reality.
"Ms Hughes escaped early elimination for her little nap, but can she avoid it again? Maybe Mr Jones should be given his life back, I'm certain sleeping in a car can't be good for his back she laughs, referring to another contestant as the votes begin to roll in.
"We'll be back with the results... right after this commercial break."
The digits beneath each image of a sleeping stranger quickly begin to race up, those beneath my own barely squeaking into double digits as seemingly one of the more popular contestants. Racing up to over fifty percent of the vote an image of a handsome stubbly man in his mid-thirties suddenly vanishes in a bout of smog, the glass box in the center of the room glowing as they attempt to retrieve the contestant from their distant reality.
"It's seems Mr Douglas' family life was not all that attention grabbing" the Hostess coos, a loud thump coming from the smokey glass device in the center of the stage as a tiny pudgy feminine hand presses against the glass from the inside.
"As for the rest of our contestants..." she continues, watching as a set of bars fight back and forth for supremacy before slowly locking into more static positions. "Looks like we have our next round of changes, and..." the Hostess states, pouting as she reads mine. "It seems... We're sending Ms Hughes back to her twenties... which she already took her out of..." she mutters, shooting a look to the camera as she cocks and eyebrow.
"Well..." she shrugs, slowly walking over to the device at the center of the stage to let Ms Douglas out. "Maybe she can finally enjoy a real days work, rather than just taking a nap today."
I hack and cough as I come to, long strands of copper red hair filling my mouth and clinging to my lip needing to be removed as I weakly bat at my delicate cutesy face.
"Bridgette..." I groan tiredly, reaching out and around the bed in search of the warm giant woman I had been using as I heat source as I slept. Rather than finding any other person I instead find my arms and legs struggling to reach the edges of the mattress, my mind reeling as the physical fact I can sprawl out on the bed clashing with the mental image of the broke brunette's tiny narrow king single.
Sheets and a thick heavy quilt cover me and seal in a good amount of heat, a layer of warm flannel covering my body as I find myself dressed in some kind of gown or dress in the cozy bed.
My eyes slowly flutter open, the room entering my view as a sadly familiar blur. "Stupid fucking..." I grumble sweetly under my breath, my hand gently moving around the sides of the bed until I finally come in contact with a small varnished wooden table.
The thick plastic frames I had worn all of yesterday are replaced with the delicate round gold wire-framed glasses I had first woken up with in the museum. Snatching them up I move to place them on my face, my free hand peeling copper red hair off my face as I perch the frames on the bridge of my dainty little nose.
The room around me is more cozy than cramped, the large king-sized bed beneath me filling the lionshare of the room while a set of dressers and a wardrobe sit up against the left wall. The aging dark wooden furniture all look like antiques, some far nicer than the others that look more like they had been fished out of the garbage in the hopes of cleaning them up.
Dark purple walls run the length of the room, the ceiling remaining what was likely the original eggshell white that had once adorned the walls while the deep dark varnished wooden skirting boards acting as a wall between the two colors.
"Where the fu...." I begin to whimper, my voice ceasing in a squeak as I hear the whine of a kettle somewhere beyond the door across from me and through the left wall. Swallowing hard I shuffle to the edge of the bed, swinging my legs out over the side as I stare down at myself. A warm plaid green flannel night gown hangs from my tiny busty frame, my nipples brushing against the coarse interior of the thick fabric as I shift about.
As I slide from the bed I feel my dainty feet prod as a set of wool filled slipper, a low satisfied sigh following as I press myself into the tiny set of footwear before I begin to shuffle out of the bedroom nervously
Creeping out of the bedroom, my slippers hushing my footfalls as I slip out the doorway, I soon find myself looking into an oddly familiar room. My eyes dart from the large pale blue sofa and the pale wood coffee table to the slender railing separating the kitchen alcove from the living room, my mind racing as I suddenly remember the apartment I had staggered back to for a nap on my first day of the competition.
The whistling of the kettle in the kitchen begins to die down as the sound of metal cutlery being dropped into the sink rattles out soon after. Water pours into a mug, something else soon following in after it before there is a slight pause as a warm satisfied sigh.
As I shuffle forward my slipper snags a floorboard, leaving me staggering and squealing in shock as I stumble into the living room.
"You okay sweetheart?" call a voice from the kitchen, my head whipping around in search for them. "Did you want a cup of tea?" asks the...
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