My stomach sinks as I find the GPS guiding me out beyond the suburbs, houses soon growing further and further apart as dense trees and the beach begin to flank the road. Mansions and holiday homes sit interspersed with tiny shacks, the last hold outs against the mounting gentrification of the island's fringes.
As even these houses grow even more spread out I'm soon told to take a harsh turn off the main road and onto a dirt path, the whole car lurching with the grinding of metal as I take the right-angle a little too fast for the failing vehicles liking.
The dirt road wraps around behind a curtain of palms, the line of trees blocking the wire fence and the small studio cabins behind it from sight. Standing on concrete blocks, the various cabins look like they were intended for short terms visitors, though despite this it seems that Ms Akana had lived here prior to our swap.
My lips quiver as I slowly pull up beside one of the newly built robin's egg blue shacks, my breath growing short as I stare at my new home in shock before bringing the car to a stop.
"This is..." I murmur, sighing to myself as the engine splutters and grinds to a stop. "... Tiny..."
Reaching up I run my light brown hands through my dark sweaty hair, pulling it back and behind my shoulders as I shift awkwardly in my seat. My apartment had been cozy as a generous description but this... this place looked downright cramped.
"She'd better live alone..." I grumble, forcing the rusted door open with my shoulder before flinging myself out of the cabin and onto the gravel coated ground beneath.
The sound of crunching rocks underfoot soon turn to the stagger stomps of footfalls up a short set of wooden steps, my heart racing in my new chest as I clamber up to the tiny deck surrounding my new front door. A set of two folding chairs sit in the corner of the otherwise empty decking, the cheap temporary furniture giving at least some way to enjoy the outdoors.
I'm forced to fumble with the keys over and over as I try to unlock the sliding glass door, my hands jittering a little as I try key after key from the bulky key ring in the hopes of finding the right one eventually. Finally, with a click and a shove the sliding door parts as the scent of slightly old and musty food slips out from the overly warm cabin.
Wincing slightly I part the curtain over the door before stepping inside, the surge of off-putting food soon being overwhelmed by the highly artificial scent of coconut and lavender. The who cabin appears to be a single room aside from a small private space towards the back right corner, the only separate room likely being a bathroom though I doubt a room that small would have a real bath or anything close to one.
To the right sits a small galley kitchen, though it appears largely unused for the most part. The cheap fake marble vinyl-wrapped counter tops are covered with used bowls and plates but with not a single pot or pan, empty plastic takeaway containers quickly making it apparent that Kiara simply didn't cook for herself. For a moment I can't help but understand why though, the positively tiny kitchen that was more sink and stove than bench space simply didn't leave much room to actually cook.
"Wait..." I mutter, pursing my lips as I reach up to rub the bridge of my nose. "Didn't she say she was broke?"
The errant thought soon slips to the side as I look over the rest of the studio, my gaze darting to a small secondhand wooden table and seats sitting against the wall across from the kitchen. It's downright tiny and heavily worn, but the plain two seater makes plenty of sense for the limited room. Sitting in the center of the table rests a small plastic reed diffuser, the sickly sweat floral and coconut scent wafting up from it in an attempt to cover the room.
Deeper into the cabin I spot what I can only describe as a bed/lounge room. Against the right side wall and sitting next to the bathroom door stands a small set of drawers with a TV atop it, the top drawer sitting part way open as a cheap laptop sits part way out and plugged into the TV. Across from the makeshift media console sits a messy double bed, a few empty bottles of cheap beers and fruity vodka pre-mixes sitting beside it.
"God damn..." I grumble, inching deeper into the cheaply built cabin. My eyes dart between the various messes, the only reprieve coming from the tiny table that seemingly had little use in comparison to the bed turned sofa.
As I approach the laptop, eager to crack it open in an effort to learn more about myself, I feel a buzzing in my pocket. Squealing in shock I reach for the shorts beneath my skirt, a few droplets of sweat forming on my face as the sheer warmth of the cabin begins to bake me inside my rather professional attire.
I slowly begin to unbutton my top as I look at the phone, my eyes going wide as I read the message.
Tyler (8/10 free drinks): Hey
Tyler (8/10 free drinks):No work tnite
Tyler (8/10 free drinks):U free?
A feel a subtle shudder run up my spine as I read over the short messages, my heart skipping a beat as a flush of warmth ripples through me. Unlocking the phone I quickly move to Kiara's contacts, a long wheezing breath slipping from my lips as I find myself staring at a list that is largely made up of men with rather vain ratings and comments next to each of their names.
"There has to be... a dozen?..." I mutter, my lip quivering as I read over each one. The rating and comments vary, from 'Buys Dinner' to 'Hard and Rough' it was clear why these men where listed in her phone.
Snatching out the laptop with my free hand I slowly begin to plod back to the table, my shirt falling from my shoulders as I walk to expose my dark and tan skin to the world. I practically collapse into one of the wooden seats, my feet suddenly aching as I feel the dress shoes pinch slightly the moment I take my weight off.
Kicking slightly I begin to remove the shoes, pushing against the heel of one with the toes of the other while I stare intently at the phone. The pleasant tingling running through me and the mounting warmth screams to me just what Ms Akana would have done, the thought of using that messy bed for something other than a couch leaving me nibbling at my bottom lip.
"Sure" I message back, wriggling my hips a little as I feel the pang of needy warmth beneath my skirt. "Bring something cold tho".
As I turn my attention away from the stranger on the phone and towards the computer I thankfully find it unlocked and ready to go, the only hing really on screen being a series of explorer windows full of pirated TV shows and movies as well as a single browser tab leading to Kiara's old Swap Clinic profile.
I stare at the profile for a moment, my thoughts turning to deleting the thing seeing as it had served its purpose. However, another thought persists at catching my attention.
"I mean..." I mutter, placing the shone down as I finish unbuttoning my shirt. Tossing the white top over the back of the chair I stare down at my new chest, a hand snapping up to squeeze at the soft and supple mounds bound beneath a thin gray sports bra. Nicely sized, just perfectly fitting into my cupped hand, I find myself furrowing my brow as I inspect the goods.
"Fit... young... I did manage to snag and upgrade..." I mutter, chuckling softly and with a slight nervousness as I find myself devoid of the usual draw and attraction to the breasts squishing beneath my finger tips. "...Whose to say I can't get lucky again?"
Looking at the bare profile I quickly begin to update it. Even without knowing much about this new life I try to focus on the positives as I up sell Ms Akana as much as possible.
Name: Kiara Akana
DOB: 11/11/2005 (19)
Location: Maui - Considering maaaaybe looking for a full body and life swap - Live alone by the seaside - Independent and unattached, but not wanting for 'company' - No health issues and fit as a fiddle - Stable job - Plenty of time for swimming in the sea and laying on the beach catching some sun - Send me your offers at the link below <3 <3 <3
"There..." I muse, smirking at the profile as I finish it with the cutesy love-hearts. "Now... let's check in on just how broke Ms Akana really is..."
It doesn't take long to find the young woman's banking apps and log-in, the browser having saved her access details and auto-filling the fields for me as I cringe at the terrible security she had seemingly employed.
As the pages load I quickly begin to scour through her accounts, my head aching a little as I find myself straining against her under-utilized brain once again. Line by line I scroll through, mental notes forming as I glance past spending habits and incoming funds in an effort to get a better understanding of just how bad her situation was.
After several minutes I lean back in my seat, my eyes staring up at the poorly painted white ceiling as I realize her finances were...
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