After a short pause he flicks his wrist, producing the purple ticket I had place in the door before repeating the motion as it vanishes again.
"...You however, have been gifted one free session" he explains, gesturing to the many racks and shelves. "Most outside of the community don't get such an opportunity, do you perhaps have a family member who is a part of the pro..." he begins to ask, pausing and cutting himself off as he waves his hand.
"Never mind that..." he states, not letting me get a word in edge wise. "Simply pick out what you would like from the shelves and bring them to the boxes, once you're ready simply climb inside the empty set and I will start the show!"
I stare blankly at him for a moment, blinking in disbelief as he looks down at me with a delighted grin. Slowly but surely his smile begins to fade, his joy being replaced with a look of confusion.
"Well dear fellow?" he mutters, gesturing towards the shelves and racks with a flick of his wrist and a wave of his hand. "Explore, indulge, cavort, and enjoy the..." he begins to state, only to finally get get off by me.
"What do you mean by..." I huff, my eyes going wide as I look to the various neatly packed or stacked body parts. "Are you telling me these are people and.. and I'm meant to be?... Wear?... I mean..." I blabber, the older gentlemen looking at me in a mixture of frustration and confusion.
"Why yes my good fellow" he states, cocking a thick black eyebrow. "Theses did in fact belong to others, and you may in fact take them for yourself should you so..." he explains shortly, his words tense and tightly packed. "Did the one who granted you this boon not explain this to..." he begins to huff, revealing the ticket once more as he holds it between his hands.
"I got that at a bar from some guy who..." I blurt back, my heart hammering in my chest as the reality of the strange situation begins to set in.
Mr Marigold sighs as he adjusts his spectacles, his fingers rubbing at the bridge of his crooked nose.
"We really must put a limit on how many of those things can be given out" he mutters, shaking his head a little. "Regardless, you likely received that from someone who had already used the service we provide here. I'm sure they were quite well... put together as they say" Mr Marigold chuckles, obviously enjoying his joke.
"They..." I mutter, remembering the blending seam in the mans wrist and the way the bartender fumbled over his name. "Their skin was..."
"Blending together?" Mr Marigold asks, knowing the answer already. "These fine pieces come from a range of personages, sometimes they don't quite match up... In fact, most of the time they lack that sense of cohesion" he chuckles, raising a hand to twirl his mustache. "But never you fret, given enough time things will even out, the aberrant tones vanishing and the unsightly seams easing until not even you or I could notice them."
"O... kay..." I mutter, biting at my bottom lip. "And he... someone tried to call him by a different name before... well they corrected..."
"How odd..." Mr Marigold muses, pausing for a moment as he purses his lips. "People shouldn't notice the change, the world simply... bends where needed to make all the changes coherent. Perhaps that man's former name was too far off the mark? One simply couldn't call him Bethany or what have you."
"So..." I hum, the gears turning in my head. "People won't notice..."
"Anything amiss? No my good fellow, though you might notice some small changes here ant there to make sure everything fits without raising too many eyebrows" Mr Marigold states, wiggling the large black caterpillars above his eyes.
"Now go on, enough chin wagging and browse!" he declares, waving me away. "I warn you, some of the items may be a bit heavy so please drop them off what you need in the boxes as you go."
As I enter the macabre rows of racks and shelves I quickly find myself sliding down between the first set of shelves I lay my eyes on. In a bit of a daze I stare up at the shelf on the left hand side, my gaze falling on what looks like a simple row of 'wigs' like one could find in a costume shop. Each and every one is remarkably life-like, from shimmering platinum blonde 'Karen-Cuts' to sweaty mops of brown with poor trimmed fringes.
Spinning around to look at the other shelve I let out a cry of shock, my gaze falling to a collection of faces resting upon a series of plastic mannequin heads. Some seem to still have their original hair attached while others are simply bald, one thing they all have in common however is the disturbing lack of eyes as only colored plastic shows through the sockets.
"Jesus fucking Christ..." I wheeze, my hand flying to my chest as I feel my heart race inside my chest. "That's... this is so fucked up..." I blabber, a strained swallow soon following as I desperately try to calm myself down.
Inching forward I begin to look over the faces, my eyes darting from a blubbery balding man to an obviously drunk and rosy-cheeked yet gaunt older woman. A bundle of black hair quickly catches my eye, the long locks tied up in a bun due to length while the other side sits shaved down in buzz cut fashion. As I approach I the porcelain pale face I look over it's sharp striking cheekbones, my mouth opening and closing in confusion as I try to work out how there were even bones beneath.
She's pretty, really pretty, with a mixture of dark eye shadow and black lipstick to grant her a dark and moody allure. Her nose sits with a silver half-moon through the septum, a series of four black rings running through her painted black lips.
I let out a little hiss as I spot the rings, my hand reaching out as I give them a little flick.
"That's... a lot..." I huff, glancing down the shelves once again as I try to look for other potential starting points. Try as I might however I find one commonality from all of the faces, not a single 'handsome young man' or 'bombshell woman' can be found amongst the bunch. "Weird..." I muse, shuffling on down the row as I ponder why that could me.
My gaze falls on a wild thick mess of auburn hair, a pale freckled face resting beneath it in a partially obscured state. Moving over to the face I find myself staring at the blank vacant gaze of a soft and youthful woman, a layer of freckles dusting her slightly squished up button nose and her soft rounded cheeks. 'Soft' is the only word I can use to describe it, the sort of face that looks younger beyond her year while having eminently pinchable cheeks.
I reach out, poking and prodding at the squishy flesh as I feel the firm plastic beneath. As my finger trace down, parting the lips, a short gasp slips from the faces mouth. I flinch and jump back, the lips sealing and the gasp ending as soon as I let go.
"I..." I pant, feeling my head pound as my blood pressure ramps up. "I fucking hate this place..."
I slowly approach the face again, reaching out tentatively as I open the freckled woman's mouth. As it gasps a long drawn out note is held, the sweet and bubbly woman seeming to sing out as long as I hold her mouth agape.
A cheeky grin passes over my face as I let go, my hand immediately shooting to the next face in the row as a deep baritone voice rumbles from a rather rotund double chinned man. I race down the shelves, making each sing in term as I chuckle at some of the scratchy or hoarse ones struggling attempt to hold a note. Nasal whines from hooked nosed old ladies are soon followed by thickly accented coos of gorgeous Korean beauties, the range of voices soon filling the room as I giddily play with the otherwise horrifying display.
My little bout of joy quickly come to an end as I open one last mouth, my eyes going wide as I listen to the gentle angelic tones emanating from it fill my ears and practically lift my spirit. Soft yet forceful, bright and rich, I hold the mouth open for far longer than the rest as the voice eventually begins to wheeze and struggle to hold the enduring note.
Wide yet empty eyes look at me in a haunting fashion, the doe eyed sockets resting in a sweet innocent face. From her delicate jawline to the soft rosy cheeks image of cuteness, an adorable and seeming beautifully voiced creature who practically beggars kindness. I wince as I look atop her scalp, her soft pale skin sitting on full display as her head and face lack any sort of hair.
"I'm sure I can find..." I mutter, pausing as I reach out for the face. "Wait... am I seriously..." I mutter, inching closer as I prod at the soft warm cheeks before pulling the face clean off the mannequin head.
"Not like there are any better choices..." I mutter, looking up and down the shelves in search of any reasonably decent male head to no avail. "I just gotta find you some hair I guess..."
With the limp face in hand, the constant jostling causing the occasional musical note to escape it's lips, I turn to face the hair shelf. My shoulders immediately slump, the range on the wooden shelves simply being far less fleshed out than the faces.
"Bald spot... split ends... split ends... oh that's..." I balk, reaching my hand back as I run my fingers across a set of dank foul smelling dreads. My eyes dart from side to side before locking to something on the top shelf, a pile of thick and long strawberry blonde hair traipsing down for a fleshy cap atop a mannequin head.
Reaching up I grab at the top of the read, pulling it off its little stand as the luscious red locks tumble down from the shelf. Foot after foot of shimmering strands descend down, my stomach sinking for a second as I eye up the six foot long locks of hair.
"Well that's... something..." I mutter, feeling the remarkably healthy and well-maintained hair between my fingers. "I mean... I can always cut it..." I remark, folding the hair over my arm again and again as I try to make it somewhat more manageable. I look over my first two choice with a weak smile, a perfectly innocent and adorable face and a mane of luscious red hair.
"Guess I'm going to be..." I mutter, sucking in my lips before releasing them with a pop. "A... Chick..."
As I walk down towards the end of the row of face and hair I find a tiny little rack extending off the end of the hair, a little sign reading 'Eyes' sitting atop the squat little piece of furniture. I recoil in disgust as I look at the hanging bags of gooey liquid, each containing at least one gelatinous white orb with the colored section coming into view with a small amount of prodding.
"Do I really need a new set of..." I mutter, pausing as I spot something truly eye catching. A brilliant emerald green and a vivid almost electric blue eye jostle in a bag, the striking heterochromia immediately capturing my attention.
I barely even have a moment to consider the decision before I quickly snatch up the bag, holding it beneath the wrap of hair as I quickly look for the next area of the shop to visit.
Following the natural flow of the room I soon find myself facing a shelf up against the wall much like the faces, a cavalcade of racks and plastic bags continuing on to the left. Disembodied breasts and pectoral sit on the shelf, blue veins and chest hair dotting the wooden boards.
"Sagging... wrinkled... inverted nipples..." I mutter to myself, adjusting my grip over and over and over as I try to work out just how I intend to carry the squishy jiggling mounds of supple fat. "Fat guy... flat... holy shit..." I muse, my gaze falling on a set of massive and extremely tight and perky tan tits.
The two mounds appear somewhere bound together at the base, the flat section of flesh being where the breasts would connect to the chest. Thick dark nipples stand at attention, each one surrounded by large oval and stretched out areola. The orbs are truly massive, my cold running cold as I less wonder if they would be bigger than my new head and more so how much bigger they would be.
Tempted by the exposed breasts more than out of sheer curiosity I reach out for the massive mounds, my fingers sinking into the soft squishy flesh as I let out a little chuckle. My laughter doesn't last long however, the thought of picking the the enormous bust soon dissipating as a dribble of watery milk begins to seep from the engorged nipples.
I yelp in surprise, staggering back as I watch droplets of milk form and drip from the dark nubs and roll down the painfully tight flesh. "Nope... nope nope..." I blurt out, shuffling down the shelf as I try to find a decent alternative.
After a brief search I finally find one, a fairly large and perky set of pale tits with cute little nipple and ghostly areola. They're still larger than I would have liked, the concern of whether they will be larger than my head returning as I reach out to pick them up. However, been as my fingers sink into the soft warm flesh not a single drop of milk comes out.
"That's a win..." I weakly mutter, passing the eyes into the same hand as the face while I move the new tits to rest on between my arm and my chest.
Looking to the next section, my gaze falling on the various bags filled with waits and bellies, I let out a sigh. I glance down at my collected items, my head tilting from side to side as I weigh up whether I could carry just one more thing.
"No... no I'd better go back..." I mutter, sighing to myself at the thought of having to deal with the eccentric old man by the boxes. Unfortunately my concerns are well founded, the chuckling whimsical voice of Mr Marigold soon filling my ears as I approach.
"Lust for the bust I see" he chuckles, gesturing towards the wide box around the center of the strange contraption. "I'm sure you will make a fine addition to the fairer sex, with those I doubt anyone will complain about your joining"
"Why aren't there any good guy stuff?" I huff, carefully placing the jiggling mounds into the box as I looking for where to place the rest.
"Because my cohort tend to take the creme of the crop" Mr Marigold state, his tongue rolling with the R's in a theatrical fashion. "Everyone wants to see the young sexy mind freak..." he explains shaking his hips and wriggling his fingers. "... and not Marvin, the Man-Boob Magician" he continues, giving me a knowing smirk.
"Oh yeah?" I retort, sliding the face into the second highest box before showing him the eyes. "Then why were these there?" I ask smugly, smirking up at him.
"Blind" he states in a manner of fact way, giving me a little shrug. My face goes white with horror, my hand almost dropping the bag as Mr Marigold laughs. "No no not blind blind, just legally so without glasses. Some magicians are fine with contacts if the eyes are... dramatic enough, but those are... in need of more correction than most."
Taking a deep breath I look at the eyes, the remarkable shimmering blue and green irises looking back at me as though begging to be chosen.
"Do... can I just wear the glasses?" I ask sheepishly, watching as Mr Marigold ponders for a moment before responding.
"I mean of course good fellow" he states, smiling warmly at me. "Though they may be a bit cumbersome. Otherwise, you will be perfectly fine to live your life how you choose" he explains, watching as I quickly plop the eyes into the box along with the face.
With only last heave I place the bundle of strawberry blonde hair into the top box, staggering back as I slide the last of the six foot long locks into its resting place. Mr Marigold looks at it with a chuckle, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.
"Young man..." he states, shooting me a look. "You know that is long than most women are tall?" he asks, watching as I begin to walk back to the racks.
"I'll cut it!" I shout back, my stride turning to a jog as I early return to my search.
Racing back to the chest section I pivot around as I find myself facing an oddly disgusting sight, the rack before me filled with bag after bag of midsections and abdomens. From bulging beer bellies to stretch mark riddled mid-sections, each bag strains to contain the severed part resting within.
I cross my fingers as I walk down the racks I try to find anything worth taking, my gaze fingering for a moment at a full torso that looks to be from some slightly pudgy mother before moving on with a shake of my head.
I pace the racks time after time, struggling to find anything worth taking, only to finally sigh as I take a slightly olive toned and very narrow waist from the rack with a visible set of lower ribs.
"They'll blend..." I mutter, heaving the bag over my shoulder. The heft of the Tiny Thai waist begin disconcertingly lacking as I trudge off towards the next section.
As I reach the next set of racks I watch as the bags twitch and trash, the arms bound inside the plastic bags seemingly fighting for freedom as they wriggle and writhe. Yet again I'm met with a series of terrible choices, from blubbery bloated limbs to bags with a full arm and then a stitched together nub.
"Chicken wing upper arm... RSI surgery scar... sooooo fucking hairy..." I muse, flicking each bag as I pass only for it to trash around wildly in a panic at the agitation. My pace slows as I spot a set of lightly tan tattooed arms, the delicate slender limbs dotted with a wrist tattoo of a non-de-script yet colorful bird and a shoulder sleeve of various wild flowers.
"Huh..." I mutter picking up at the bag as the slender arms writhe around in a panic. "I guess tattoos aren't great on showgirls?" I muse, placing the arms in an embrace as they seem to slowly calm down with the warmth from my body.
The racks of hands similarly jostle and shake as I inspect the little plastic pouches, the fingers regardless of how many are on each palm trashing about in a frenzy as they seem to look for something to grab onto to.
Once again I'm stuck looking through bag after bag of sub-par parts as each bag wriggles and writhes with some sort of defective piece to it.
"Missing finger... worryingly red... I... don't even... what the hell is that..." I huff, my hand stroking the tattooed arm in my embrace as I try to keep it soothed. Slowly but surely, leaving a trail of twitching and wriggling fingers in my wake, I find something that's worth at least considering.
Bony yet delicate, the dark skinned set of digits quiver as if in a panic as I pick them up from the rack. While soft and smooth for the most part, the backs of the fingers and the hands themselves appear to show the bones or tendons beneath thanks.
"They'll blend in..." I mutter to myself, adding them to the pile in my arms as I try my best to walk off towards the next set of shelves.
The shelves ahead of me act as a barrier, corralling people away from the main walkway and back towards the remaining shelves and racks. Lined up along rows upon rows of hardwood I spot the strange sight of numerous pelvises, each adorned with a flat patched of skin where their genitals should be.
It's hard to tell which exactly are women's sized hips, the bones and flesh detached from the waist and the rest of the figure leaving it a bit of wild guess work. Wide and narrow or bent and reconstructed, a cavalcade of skin tones and stretch marks line the shelves as I ponder over just what to pick.
Out of the corner of my eyes I catch the sight of it, a set of hips that were undoubtedly feminine. Childbearing would be the most apt description, wide set with silvery streaks along the sides where the the bones flared out in a series of painful growth spurts or potentially pregnancies. Looking back at the rest of the strange or simply unimpressive option I take the massive wide-set hips as I stake them atop the bundle of limbs and hands in my arms.
"Fuck... me..." I wheeze, staggering down towards the next set of shelves as I find myself slowly moving back towards the boxes.
I soon find myself flanked by two sets of squat little shelves, one labelled 'Genitals - Male' while the other states 'Genitals - Female'. As I shuffle between the two I recoil slightly at the sight, the grotesque engorged cocks in all shapes and sizes throbbing on their own as they stand fully erect. The pussies don't fare much better, the exposed labia glistening in the soft warm light.
"How do I..." I mutter, looking over the various bent or twitching cocks and the quivering cunts as I try to work out just what I'm meant to do. From tight to loose I just can't seem to decide, a loud huff soon fills the aisle as I march off back towards the boxes again.
As I return to the boxes yet again Mr Marigold lets out a short snorting chuckle, the towering man watching in amusement as I fumble to hold all the various bags and the wide set of heavy hips.
"Perhaps you should invest in some stronger arms young man" the older gentleman chuckles, eliciting a little huff from me as I blow some sweat out of my eyes. My shoulder strains with the petite Asian torso slung over it, my arms shaking a little as I basically throw the stretch-mark riddled hips into one of the lower boxes.
"They're..." I pant, un-bagging the wriggle hands as I try to force them each into their own little spaces in the contraption. "Not light..." I wheeze, watching as the hands suddenly stop dead as they touch the black painted wood. "Or cooperative..." I finish with a grumble, fighting the flailing arms as I try to retrieve them from their container.
Mr Marigold tries and fails to stifle a laugh as I manage to slide one arm into place after the other. The shoulder locks in at the top of a long vertical box, the wrist quickly snapping into place below as the hands lurch up to meet them.
As I wriggle the tiny torso into place I hear Mr Marigold clear his throat, the man grasping for my attention as I spin around in place. His lips purse slightly, wriggling along with his mustache along with them as he points at a small conspicuously empty box beneath the pelvis and between the long leg slots.
"I see you haven't selected any..." he pauses, choosing his words carefully. "Downstairs to put it lightly"
I feel my face begin to burn at the implication, my hand racing up to rub the back of my head as I rub it in an effort to calm my nerves. Swallowing hard, the sound audible seemingly throughout the strange magical building, I give Mr Marigold a sheepish look.
"Do I... need to pick something?" I ask, adjusting my jeans as I feel my mighty ten-inch cock shift in my boxers. "I... there wasn't anything there that I really... you know... it's hard to pick them just from looking at the... right?" I bleat and blubber, unable to really form a coherent answer.
Mr Marigold pauses for a moment, stroking his chin in thought as he glances to my and then to the magical stage equipment with a discerning eye. After a brief pause he shakes his head, the massive top hat jostling in a worrying fashion as he begins to speak.
"Well... I...
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