Caught in the Auto-Closet: The Festival - Part Three

After a brief pause, seemingly forgetting that I had no way to respond, her cheeks begin to burn red.

"Right right, you can't..." she murmurs, embarrassed as she looks down demurely at her feet. Slowly her gaze moves back up to the exposed flesh in the Auto-Closet, a faint grin spreading across her lips. "Right..." she mutters, wandering over to the control panel before bending over to inspect it.

Adjusting her glasses she begins to poke at the options one by one, pulling a little booklet from her apron as she reads some notes outlining her plan.

 

The doughy blonde fiddles with her apron as she pecks at the screen with her thorn-scarred fingers. Lines of text filling otherwise unassuming bubbles appear indecipherable from my distance, the matter not being helped by the speed at which the woman works.

Finally, after some delay, she fishes out a small USB. Her hand peels at a plastic panel beside the touch screen, popping the black shell off before revealing a set of ports along the side. As she plugs in the tiny device a folder flashes onto the screen, the white square quickly filling with hundreds of pictures ripped straight from the internet.

Caught in the Auto-Closet - Part Two

"Oh wow..." mutters the stranger, my hazy vision slowly struggling to see them towering over me. After a short moment they snap into view as I find myself staring up at Margaret, the pudgy blonde newly-wed florist with wiry blonde hair and a subtle tan.

The doughy and pudgy blonde appears like a giant, her soft and lightly tan form appearing more as a mountain than a person. She adjusts a small set of rectangular spectacles on the bridge of her nose, placing a hand at her back as she leans down to inspect me.

Her sizeable and sagging flabby rack begins to hang from her chest, the soft and supple flesh hanging and resting inside her green and yellow sundress and her dirt smeared apron. Sweat clings to her skin, the reward for a days work out on her balcony garden and at her little florists.

Her blonde hair frizzes out in a dry mess, without a headband or scrunchie to hold it all back it's simply left to puff out as it hangs between her shoulder blades at its lowest. A set of dirty jeans are slung over her arm, leaving her bare feet and just a hint of her legs visible as she shuffles ever closer.

Caught in the Auto-Closet - Part One

A dull warmth wraps around me like a soothing coat, the low hums and thumps of machinery reverberating from somewhere nearby. They sound odd, drowned out and muffled as the noises struggle to make it through the walls of wherever I was.

I try to remember exactly what had happened to me, what I had been doing and most importantly where I was.

Thinking feels almost painful, the sluggish response making finding each thought feel like walking uphill in an intense and overbearing heatwave. It takes me far to long to notice the lack of light, and even longer to notice the fact I can't move or even feel my arms or legs.

A slow and creeping panic slips into my dulled mind, the lack of my limbs soon becoming punctuated by another more terrifying thought.

"I can't breathe" I groan inside my head, the panic building more and more as begin to try and focus on my missing body. "I... my heart.. it's..." I continue, the realization that I can't feel my heartbeat any more washing over me like icy wave.

Suddenly I hear a little chime, the cheery tone echoing through the warm and cozy space easily over the low mechanical hum. The chime is definitely familiar, having heard it every time I went to the laundry these past few months.

It was the telltale greeting of the Auto-Closet.

Mangling Malfunction - Part Three

My eyes dart about in a panic, hastily assessing the sight of the short eighteen-year-old with glasses and pimples dressed in an anime shirt and baggy jeans.

My voice crackles out in a pained croaking gasp, my new vocal cords aching and stinging as the harsh ragged breaths rush against them. Nasal squeaking slips out of me, my mind racing to assess just what the hell had happened to me.

I'm barely five-foot-three, at least according to the anti-theft measurements in the door frame of the storefront, the ratty dirty sneakers likely adding just a little bit to my height. My hair hangs down past my slender narrow shoulders, thick light brown curls drenched by the rain and coated in layers of grease and grime clinging to my neck and face in a disgusting manner.

Mangling Malfunction - Part Two

I don't have much time to really let the disjointed words sink in, my stomach sinking as the needle is soon retracted to allow my shirt to be pulled over my head.

The sound of hatches opening around me fills the room, the noise only getting worse as various saws and suction devices come to life in preparation for the forced surgery that was about to commence. A screen flickers to life on the far wall, the monitor showing water dribbling down behind the display. Lines of text flicker on the screen, an intelligible scrawl flashing up as the machine attempts to explain that it was about to give me the full body of someone else trapped somewhere inside the machine.

Mangling Malfunction - Part One

Wandering down the street, short bursts of rain spitting down in the night air, I try to pull my leather jacket over my head for some semblance of cover. Clouds blot out the stars and the moon, the faint glow emanating from the sky doing little to illuminate the footpath.

A few scant street lights help guide the way, the warm glow also catching the rain as it threatens to come down heavier by the second. It was the calm before the storm, the pitter patter of sharp cold droplets and the rumbling of thunder in the distance tell me it was a race against time to find some sort of cover.

I hadn't intended to stay out so late, just a few drinks before heading to my waiting bed. However, seeing me drinking alone the bar had been 'kind enough to ply me with cheap liquor all night. I'd normally just call a cab or Uber home, though with the extra time spent out I'd unfortunately killed the battery in my phone. My head hangs forward, my stance listing from side to side as I try to keep balance on the wet and slippery path.

Suddenly, a flash of light fills the sky only to be followed by a near immediate rumbling boom of thunder. The heavens open above me, the gentle spitting of rain rapidly devolving into an intense deluge that threatens to sweep me off my feet.

The Auto-Closet - Part Seven

"Don't worry Jordan" my mother coos, rubbing Monica's shoulder as she starts up the Auto-Closet. Before the doors can close I watch her glare down at me as she remarks "It's only for a month, plenty of time to see if you're the right fit before Monica... Pops" she explains with a giggle, Monica for her part shuddering though failing to hide the grin plastered across my former face.

The Auto Closet hisses and whines around me, the mixture of the noise and the sealed doors blocking any more the conversation out in the bedroom as the metal hands descend from on high.

I howl and scream for them to come back, to give me back my damned body, before suddenly the world goes dark once again.

The Auto-Closet - Part Six

"No, I'm just saying you don't understand. It would be unfair to take back the offer now. Families are a lot of work, not that he'd know about work. Maybe this will open his eyes" my mother whines, spitting out her references to me in a venomous grumble.

I could admit it, I hadn't been the best son growing up. I'd been fairly lazy, really doing my chores unless eventually forced to do so. I'd never been into the usual family events, the birthdays and holidays that went by with minimal interaction from myself. The thought of her still holding a grudge over all that, over a decade after I had left home, was downright bone-chilling

The Auto-Closet - Part Five

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The Auto-Closet - Part Four

Slowly rising from her lowered state she stretches out, rolling her shoulders in an effort to loosen up a little. "That's not to say I'll be in here forever, I do love what David and mom planned for that body of yours" she mutters, emphasizing the temporary switch and reversal of roles.

"No, I think I'll be back in that thing and we can start our little...trial of the sons...tomorrow morning, I don't want to deal with the hangover I'm about to earn" she explains with a bit of a chuckle, wincing as she remembers back to a few weeks ago when I had spent much of a Saturday morning laying in the dark next to a toilet.

"I...I'll..." I splutter, still coughing and gagging at the 'vita-tank' fluid in my lungs. With each wracking breath, I can feel the effects of my time in the Auto-Closet. My now flattened yet engorged breasts, my smoothed out stomach, my cinched in waist, and the fuzziness in my head all crashing against me at once as a painful heat builds between my legs.

The Auto-Closet - Part Three

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The Auto-Closet - Part Two

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The Auto-Closet - Part One

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