'Borrowed' Body - Part Five

Inching in I quickly walk over to the bed, my petite form dropping to the overly soft squishy mattress with a thud as I spill a few drops of wine on the pillow case.

I can't help but groan at the sight of the slowly growing stain, my head craning up as I take a few more gulps of the wine. "I'm so fuckin' stupid..." I groan, glaring for a moment at the glass as though it could just be the wines fault.

With one hand clutching the glass I begin to unzip the jacket, revealing white v-necked top and the generous cleavage beneath the white padded jacket. "Bitch sure has a style..." I grumble, reaching down as I begin to move to unbuckle and peel the skin tight jeans off of me.

"Though... like... it does look super cute..."

As the jeans slide down my slender yet soft thighs, the denim and elsatine blend relaxing as it glides over my soft supple thighs and down past my calves. I give my legs a wiggle, shaking them as I kick the pants off as I'm left staring down past a perky shelf of lightly tan flesh to a set of cute white panties adorned with a tiny pink bow.

I'm forced to muffle a squeal as I spot the cutesy underwear, my dainty feet kicking excitedly as I revel in just how adorable they are. Reaching up to my top I quickly begin to shimmy out of the thing, wriggling my shoulders as I yank the white cotton shirt over my head before partially blinding myself in a cascade of platinum blonde hair.

'Borrowed' Body - Part Three

With one final slurp I feel my senses slip away, an all consuming darkness flooding over me as I'm left floating in a void with only my howling grunting thoughts to keep me company and to let me know I'm alive. Pain shudders through my ethereal skull as I feel things begin to click back into place, my disjointed thoughts finally managing to grasp a coherent sentence.

"Fuuuuuck, oh my gawd what the fuck is even happening?" I think, my mind reeling as I listen to my thought rattle in my head with a dim vapid lilt. "What the... that is NOT how I fucking sound! I sound like a..." I shout in my head, the world snapping back as I find myself once again in a humming metal chamber.

"...fucking bitch..." Madi huffs under her breath, her gaze locked to the computer as she doesn't seem to register I had come to. After another few moments she looks up, her deep brown eyes darting between the two pods before hissing. "Okay, done. Now where's my money?" 

I sway back and forth in the metal chamber, blonde hair dangling back and forth into my field of view as my soft pouty lips part and my eyes stare ahead dimly. My head pounds, the warping of the gray matter inside my shrunken skull leaving me struggling to even string together a decent thought.

"Warm..." I manage to think to myself, the thick warm parka around me and the fuzzy boots on my sweaty feet at least working to fight back the chill. My hearing is slightly muffled by the heavy hood extending up over the jacket, the white jacket and fake fur around it framing my view of the auburn haired girl.

"So... about that..." my normal voice calls out with a deep chuckle, the sound of it coming from the other side of the room sending a shiver up my spine. "You do know that you could lose your job for this right? Maybe even wind up in prison? New deal, how about we don't turn you in and you stop harping on about money."

'Borrowed' Body - Part Two

I stop listening as she pushes the door open, my eyes squinting as they adjust to the light of the backroom. While the overhead lights remain in their dimmed state no small amount of white and blue illuminate the room, the bevy of screens on and working make me wonder just how many people are meant to be assisting this girl when she is working normally.

I swallow hard as I stare at the looming machine at the back of the room, the two metal cylinders designed for in-person swaps sitting with a cascade of cable sheaths running between them and up into the ceiling.

Looking from the empty pod on the left, the small bare stool barely visible in the din of the room, I slowly turn to the shadowy figure in the pod on the right. I fight for a weak smile as I stare at Stephanie, the dim and bubbly twenty-one year old blonde who lives in the apartment above my own.

Making it with the Medallion - Part Six

"Okay... okay..." I pant, taking a series of deep breaths as I get the car started. "Step one, I need to get out of here. This girl was a cheerleader, at least in college so... somewhere without a local college I guess..."

As I carefully reverse out of the parking lot I strain to get a sense of the steering wheel, my dainty fingers fumbling with the thick plastic ring as I'm forced to relearn to drive or at least how the damn thing handles with this new body.

"... Donovan Ranges were always nice this time of year..." I muse, nibbling my lip as I slowly pull out into the quiet suburban street before mentally mapping out the quickest way to the highway. "Small towns... plenty of people coming and going for hikes and camping and..." I continue, biting down hard as I squeeze my thighs together and relish the sensation of athleticism and fitness that I had lacked for over a decade at this point.

"... and I suppose I could enjoy the exercise too" I laugh, my voice coming out in a cutesy giggle as I finally get onto a main road and on the way out of the city as a whole.

Making it with the Medallion - Part Five

With a deep breath I begin to eye up the clothes on the floor, my heart hammering in my chest and ringing in my ears as I try to plan out my next steps.

"Okay... tough choice..." I huff, biting down firmly on the inside of my cheek as I try to piece together my thoughts. "I still have the car... for now..." I muse, realizing just how much I would be losing in this exchange. "No ID... no education... going to the bank is going to be..." I continue, patting at my pocket as I think about how managing things was going to be far harder than before.

A smile slowly forms on my lips as I squeeze my wallet, my mind turning to the cash scattered through the boxes in my back seat.

"I guess that cash is going into the mattress for a bit" I giggle, bouncing a little in excitement as I feel my heaving bust and plump rear jiggle along with the movement. "Though I guess $250,000 is more of a mattress in an of itself..."

Running my tongue across my plump lips I glance over the clothes scattered around the room, my gaze drifting to my own oversized outfit as I slowly begin to formulate my plan.

"Well..." I mutter, reaching for the stretchy set of shorts that made up part of a cheer uniform. As I grab the medallion for a brief moment I feel my whole body shudder as a static buzz crawls across my skin. "... This should have some options" I wheeze, my voice pitching up from what was once rich and full to a soft bubbly coo.

Making it with the Medallion - Part Four

"Okay..." I mutter, taking a mental note as I lean in to the mirror and look over my delicate lightly tan face. "Tall young woman... at least I could use some of my clothes I guess..." I muse, reaching over to the medallion as I grab it along with another item of clothing with baited breath.

"But what else..." I continue, my heart racing as the static charge rapidly shoots up my arm. "... Could I be..." 

As my grab the medallion I reach over to a bundle of stretch elastic beige fabric, the breathable material brushing against my long and delicate fingers. In an instant I feel my skin begin to burn, the light tan growing more and more pronounced by the second as the pale streaks on my shoulder rapidly vanish while the paleness below my waist heightens to a ghostly level.

My hips pop loudly, the pelvis rapidly flaring out as the waist band of my sweat pants stretch and side up and over the growing mass in my lower body. I can practically hear my thighs and ass gargle as soft squish fat pools into them, the taut skin fighting to contain the juicy flab and hold it in a delightfully plump and perky state.

As I hold up my t-shirt I watch as the defined abdominals vanish into a slim tan belly, my waist soon cinching in tightly as the air is forced from my lungs. My chest bubbles and grows, the fatty mounds growing more prominent as they push out at the dyed blue cotton before sagging just ever so slightly.

 I watch as the once delicate and slight youthful face in the mirror rounds out slightly, her cheeks growing more full and flushing as my eyes shift to a muddled hazel and grow to a delightful doe-like stare. My lips plump up, the pink cushions growing soft and enticing while the dark shoulder length hair curls slightly as it shifts to an auburn hue and rapidly descends down to my lower back.

Swappy Seconds - Part Two

My brow furrows however as I spot an image, the extreme distance on the picture making it fairly hard to make out. Tapping at the option on screen I watch as the app freezes for a second, the trait loading on my phone as the first thing to load is the simple button reading

'Purchase - $N/A'

Section by section loads into the profile for the trait, each broken seemingly by design as garbled text rests next to each identifier. "Can't be..." I mutter as I stare at the image of Megan, the tiny and mousey blonde grad student in her mid-twenties that Fiona and I mentored. The image on screen shows the young woman held standing by a series of padded metal cuffs, the frame behind her adjusted for her tiny five foot one build.

Her delicate pale chin shines slightly in the camera flash, a rivulet of drool having been wiped away from her brainless body in order to get her ready for sale.

Wild and curly sandy blonde hair puffs out around her head and drapes down past her shoulders in a massive yellow mane, the thick curly locks framing the dainty and delicate features of her face. Pale green eyes stare ahead through a set of small half-moon reading glasses, the pupils differing in size as they fail to focus without a mind behind them. Her nose is tiny and delicate with a slight up turn, the narrow and slight feature working in concert with her delicate jawline and faint cheekbones to leave her looking down right sweet.

Her build can best be described as 'tiny', her arms and legs lacking much in the way of muscle and sporting just the barest amount of fat to leave her with a soft feminine plush. Her torso is clad in a plain white button-up business shirt and a tight cream-colored cable knit sweater, her narrow waist and modest perky chest on display beneath the warm clinging fabric. Her legs are shielded from view, a long ankle length black skirt hanging from her flared hips in an attempt at some kind of modest yet professional look.

The Swap-Cation - Part Three

I quiver slightly as I feel myself get placed down on something cold and hard, the chilly sheet of metal beneath me waking me slightly as I realize just what I am sitting on. However, after a few moments of sitting on the metal plate nothing seems to happen.

"Carl?" calls the young woman, her shout coming through loud and clear as she stand over me. "Yeah... Yeah I've got the list... But I... Yeah...Is this blonde real or dyed?... No, I need to know otherwise the prom queen is going to be up there with exposed roots”

The woman quickly begins to pace away, the sound of her stomping boots piercing the obstructing flesh over my ears before vanishing entirely in an instant. Murmured voices rumble in the distance, a back and forth completely lost to me as some low voice chatters with the young woman.

As the voices die down I hear the boots begin to approach, a series of keystrokes soon following as I feel my pathetic squishy form become constrained by some invisible force. My mind swims and my blood boils as I feel the last of the slime over my skin dry up in an instant, the last vestiges of oxygen vanishing in an instant.

"Al...ght..." the woman coos, her voice distant and hard to make out. "Le... thi...the...ro..." she calls out, a sudden shock rippling through my terrible diminished form. With a gasping breath I feel two holes form in what I could loosely describe as my face, the small gaps quickly winding through my jiggling flesh into what feel like a pathetic and deflated set of lungs. The two little holes begin to shift as cartilage forms between them, my skin stretching out as a small and dainty nose is formed.

Booted by the Book Club - The Long Holiday - Part Five

With a coughing spasm I come to, my drenched naked body wracking itself with a violent bout of hacking coughs. Hair clings to my face and back, every muscle in my body aching from a full day of constant strain, and worst of all my sinuses feel filled to bursting.

With a deep breath I huff though my nose, my fit and firm abdominal clenching as I wheeze out another body rocking series of coughs. With a wet pop I feel something launch from my nose as I watch a thick clear glob of goo straight onto the drain, a loud slurping sound filling the shower as its sucked down the pipe.

My eyes go wide as the reality of the situation hits me like a tonne of bricks. With a shriek I dive at the drain, dropping to the tiled floor with a crash as I claw at the metal crate over the gurgling drain. The subtle blubbering of the thick ooze running through the pipes slowly grows distant, the sound eventually being drowned out entirely by the sound of the running water and approaching footsteps.

"You okay in there?" shouts a familiar voice, the same older and commanding shout now turning to a quieter yet still equally stern tone. "Heard you yell out."

Mastered PC - Part Eight

With the table set up I simply stand at attention behind it. Freed from the previous command I feel my body once more under my control, however, I remain still and silent out of fear of having Fiona make another demand of me.

Hours pass as students walk up and chat for a while, mostly men who who look over the curves on display between Fiona and myself before leaving once either of us ask for them to sign-up. It was obvious why I was hear, the Literature Club having been Fiona's baby since her first year even though it had barely managed to draw in enough members to be counted as a club at all.

With her new pupil she had at least found a second member, nearly halfway to the five required to hold the club together. However, as the sun sits high in the sky the sign up sheets still remain completely blank.

I hear as Fiona sighs next to me, my whole body shuddering as I hear the sound of her pen scratching out her thoughts in the notepad once again. Twisting in place I stare as Fiona's pen darts back and forth, the notepad getting filled with sentences before each is crossed out and another takes its place. Pursing her lips Fiona looks over me, only eventually piping up to mutter to herself.

Booted by the Book Club - The Long Holiday - Part Four

Once more I'm met with the loud squeaking of plastic and sloshing of our liquefied forms, the shadow of an arm wrapping around us and shifting as the lights overhead pass us by. I try to make things out, the thump of car doors and the roaring of an engine being readily recognizable while the muffled chatter around me simply fades into a wall of noise.

In a flurry of motion the packaging is torn to shreds as a hand begins to snatch out the bottles one by one. The constant sickening motion makes it hard to make anything else, the sight of other neatly stacked packs of bottled water only momentarily sticking with me as I feel myself churning and my vision blurring with the ever present movement.

With another loud thud I find myself finally being able to come to rest, my unstable and sloshing form stilling swirling for a moment as the world around me spins slowly back into view. Focusing my vision I strain to make sense of the world around me, my warped vision struggling to take in the Long running track  stretching out ahead of me, the bottle having been placed next to the finish line.

With a loud crack of a starting pistol the ground begins to rumble, a wall of sound and agitation causing my world to rock and shift into a distorted blur. Faceless figures shift in the crowed bleachers nearby, each wearing bright primary colors as they cheer on the oncoming racers.

In a flash its all over, the hammering footfalls growing terrifyingly close before racing past in a blur. As the runners slow their pace the violent shaking slowly comes to a quiet end.

"FUCK!" screams a voice, the sound coming from a stomping figure as they make their way over towards me. Her voice with bright and full of passion, a slight nasal whine whistling out as she shouts. My world suddenly shifts as a lightly tan hand rips me up from the ground.

"Nobody likes a sore loser Caitl..." another voice chides, warm and soothing yet with an obviously cocky energy.

Suddenly, I feel myself slam into one side of the the and then the other. The plastic buckles and crunches as it hits the ground, the rough dirt track providing little in the way of cushioning as the cheap plastic prison is pushed to its limit.

"RIGHT!" shouts a booming voice, my gelatinous body quivering on instinct as the commanding tones of the older woman ring out over the field. "Caitlyn Marshal Stewart! Go cool off!"

"But..." whines the chirpy voice, only to be cut off shouting of the older woman once again.

"Now!" she barks, my bottle quickly being snatched up from the track as I'm carried elsewhere.

The cheering of the crowd quickly fades as the sound of angry stomping footfalls soon take their place. From the dirt track, to grass and then to pavement, the steady and powerful strides ring out as I begin to spot a pair of heavily worn white sneakers lurching past the bottom of the bottle.

A loose neon green singlet acts like a curtain around me, my transparent cell being pressed and held against the poorly fitted top. Before long the harsh baking heat of the sun vanishes, the sound of a door being kicked open soon leading me into a quiet an echo-filled room.

"Fucking Marissa" the bright voice snaps, grunting as my bottle is hurled across the fluorescent light filled room. I clatter to the floor with another crumpling slam, the sight of pale blue tiles filling half my vision as lockers line the walls.

As my strangely warped vision slowly stabilizes, I watch as my seeming abuser rips open one of the lockers causing the thin metal door to shake and rattle. Scowling intensely she begins to search through the locker, grabbing a towel and bottle of soap before slamming the door closed again.

It's difficult to tell from my warped vision, but the young woman is undoubtedly on the taller side and easily stands at around five foot eight or even nine. Her long pale blonde hair is pulled back into the tightest of ponytails, a black hairband holding back any errant strands from getting into her dark brown eyes. She slender and narrow jaw line and dimpled cheeks give her an almost cute appearance, the delicate features marred by a bend in the bridge of her button nose and a small pink scar running across it.

As she strides over she quickly begins to rip off the green tank top, hurling the cheap synthetic and heavily worn garment aside. She toned and slender body is bound lightly in a set of skin tight running sorts and a top that could better be considered a bra. Each item is a blend of dark gray and black, sections of material and accenting lines. The top holds her chest seemingly painfully tightly, her breasts remaining almost rock solid with each of her steps. The shorts however reveal a set of long and powerful legs, her thick and muscular calves and thighs flexing as she stomps over towards me.

The girl barely breaks her stride as she snatches me up from the floor, another series of curse words ringing out as she pushes open a cubicle door revealing a small shower.

"That bitch didn't even need to run in the semis..." she huffs, slamming the door behind her as she violently grabs at the top. "I'm dehydrated Ms Cameron..." she chirps in a mocking and dismissive tone, whipping the sports bra over to a small wooden shelf as her perky sizeable bust falls free. "I'm tired  Ms Caaaaamron" she continues, wriggling her flared hips free from the tight confines of her shorts as they cling to her sweat drenched body for dear life.

Her athletic frame is covered in distinct tan lines, her light tan ending right where the running gear had been moments ago. Her sweat soaked skin is otherwise remarkably pale ,the subtle tan likely being the extent she can muster before burning to a crisp. With a slight yelp she tugs at the hairband, her long blonde hair tumbling down to her shoulder blades as she yanks out several strands along with the tight black band.

With a thud I find myself placed beside the discarded clothes as the bottle of soap is dropped alongside me. With a crackling hiss the room fills with the round of running water, the young woman jumping under the powerful stream with a wince as she begins to shiver. Her small ghostly pale pink nipples soon stand at attention in the frigid cold, her shaking hand reaching back to adjust the faucet as she cools herself off.

Finally, a sigh of relief slips from her lips as she flashes just the faintest of smiles. Her hand slaps over to the shelf, snatching up the bottle of soap as she begins to bring it to her lips. Catching her mistake she lets out a frustrated grumble, pouring out a small blob of faint purple goo into her hand as she quickly begins to lather herself.

"I'm so fucking..." she sighs with exhaustion, her voice sounded drained beyond belief once all the excitement and anger was gone. Her sud covered hand quickly snatches at my bottle, grabbing it from the shelf as she places the soap back. "...And still cold?" she muses, shaking me slightly before twisting off the lid.

As she bring the top of the bottle to her lips I feel something surge inside me, the feeling of warmth and of her breath against my liquefied form basically calling to me. For a second I hear a scream, my whole body lurching up and out the top of the bottle as I frantically begin to worm and writhe my way towards that cozy and desperately needed warmth, before suddenly the world goes dark.

Feeling around in the darkness my... hand? limb? something brushes up against... something else. It's hard to describe, the object feeling full to burst and imposing as I lazily slide over it. It's warm though, and comforting to he touch.

After a moment however I'm shoved back as something lashes out, whatever was housed inside and wrapping itself around... whatever it is sensing my presence and violently trying to force me back. However, as the strange force whips around it begins to feel my faint and the lashing more distant. With each growing frantic motion the presence begins to slip away, its grip on its home failing it bit by bit.

Inching forward as brush against the object again, my phantasmal limb feeling the large and homey thing properly for the first time. It feels almost hollow, or at least the various ridges and chasms carved into it make it feel hollow, the slowly emptying space practically calling out to me to fill it.

The other presence quickly begins to fade as I slink over to the object, wrapping myself around it as I feel a warmth in my chest and breath filling my lungs for the first time in seemingly forever. I ooze into the crevices and gaps, my entire form slowly coming to rest in he strange space as I feel as though I'm about to fall asleep in a warm and comfortable bed.

With a coughing spasm I come to, my drenched naked body wracking itself with a violent bout of hacking coughs. Hair clings to my face and back, every muscle in my body aching from a full day of constant strain, and worst of all my sinuses feel filled to bursting.

With a deep breath I huff though my nose, my fit and firm abdominal clenching as I wheeze out another body rocking series of coughs. With a wet pop I feel something launch from my nose as I watch a thick clear glob of goo...

RE: Second Skin, Second Life - Part Three

Bleary eyed I slowly feel myself coming to, my muddled and hazy mind struggling as my skull painfully throbs along with my heart beat. I sway slightly, my skin and muscles tensing as if to fight my subtle movements while I slowly come to.

"Why..." I blurt out, my lips slamming shut against my will as I find myself struggling to do much of anything beyond struggle back to a semi-wakeful state.

Suddenly, it all comes back to me in a rush. The rain, the lobby, the thing, and then the fall all as my head begins to pound and ache worse and worse by the second. Blinking rapidly I try to focus, clearing my vision as I feel my eyelids grow heavy and defiant.

As I come to my senses I find myself at my front door as a set of delicate fingers fumble with my keys, curly blonde hair and a massive weight on my chest shifting with each movement. I feel my hands trembling in the cold, delicate and slender fingers fumbling with the set of keys as they try to line it up with lock.

My other hand holds something against my bulging abdomen, wet and sodden fabric pressing firmly against the achingly distended flesh.

In the haze my haze I quickly force the key into the lock, turning it with a loud click as a squeak slips from my lips that is not of my making. As the door slowly opens I feel my heart quickly begin to hammer in my chest, the pounding force growing loud in my ears as I realize just how much bigger my apartment looks.

Soulless and Sentient - Part Three

I begin to shiver in the cold night air and the rain, the tight and revealing clothes leaving me with little to combat the cold. My mouth hangs open, whimpering half words slipping out from my lips as I try to comprehend just what was happening.

I watch as the hands flutter about once more, patting over my body as if to take stock before pulling a phone from my top and typing.

'Spare key under mat, go home'

 I feel a shiver run down my spine, the feeling of the petite hand plunging unto the cavernous cleavage inside the tight teal top only acting as a part of the strange sensations wracking my rebellious body. The feeling of the hot and sweat-soaked phone clinging to the soft and supple fatty flesh bound inside the top, the device causing my skin to catch and cling thanks to the warm moisture, causing my mind to reel.

Covering the phone screen with one hand, fighting to keep the rain away from the already sweat coated device, my body rapidly begins to type out yet another message in a clumsy frenzy with the other hand.

'Please, I help'

'Promise'

Soulless and Sentient - Part Two

"Perfect..." drones a tired disinterested voice, a set of hands clutching at my collar.

In the faint light of the side street, the street lamps from the main road doing their best to try and illuminate the shadowy alley, I find myself freezing up as I look at one of the girls I had lingered on during my walk home.

My mind struggles to snap from the mixture of shock and the heady haze of liquor as she tugs herself closer to me, my eyes darting over her in the dim light as I finally find myself recognizing her from inside the gym.

Rain and sweat soak her teal top, the tight spandex struggling to restrain the immense bust beneath. Her rack rises and falls rhythmically with her heavy breathing, the race to catch up to me leaving her panting after her vigorous workout. Strands of shimmering platinum blonde hair cling to her vacant face, her plush lips twitching slightly as they struggle to even weakly smile up at me.

I stare into her unfocused hazel eyes, her long lashes fluttering on occasion due to the drizzling rain. The heady scent of built-up sweat blends with the chemical yet floral smell of women's deodorant, the latter seeming to have been poorly or lazily applied before her workout.

Soulless and Sentient - Part One

However, seeing was believing. My world turning upside down when I came face to face, lips to lips, with one of these poor creatures as I stumbled home drunk one night.

A slight drizzle comes down outside in a misty haze, the window by my seat fogging up as the warmth inside the bar clashes with the frigid cold outside. The whole place is abuzz, my usual nerdy haunt hosting an afterparty for a local convention, with people in various costumes and cosplay staggering about with new friends and acquaintances.

Soulless and Sentient - Prologue

They shamble through life, the not-quite-walking dead. Their eyes glazed over and unfocused without that certain vital spark behind them. Grunting and mumbling out one-word answers through strained tones they shuffle about as though on rails, looking for something.

While many move about this way, life getting them down or simply due to a rough night's sleep, there are some with some greater issue. These scant few can only grow in number, though their affliction is normally simply spread.

The lack of one's soul.

Equivalent* Exchange - Part Three

My mouth hangs open for a moment in a stupefied fashion, a low gurgle rising from my throat as I struggle to string even two thoughts together. Staring down at the tiled floor I watch as the dark lines between blur and fade together, my vision waning by the second. Coughing to clear my throat and focusing my sleepy mind, I finally manage to croak out "Tr...Tracy... I'll..."

"Fan-tastic" the technician muses in a chipper manner, her fingernails clicking against the plastic keyboard as she makes some new notes.

It was a tough choice, the idea of becoming far younger than my current body was all too enticing. However, each left me worried from the keywords mentioned.

'Easy' was hard to interpret, the fear of becoming some office slut overwhelming the idea that her life was simply easy.

Living with someone's parents was a no after over a decade of enjoying my independence. I cringed at the thought of asking for some allowance, living under the rules of another person, and playing by their rules.

Finally, the word 'Taken' sent chills down my spine. The other women had more neutral and less possessive terms, leaving me fearful of what being 'Taken' might entail.

With those worries in mind, the only option left was Tracy. Her job meant she had her own money, and living in a larger home meant she was hopefully somewhat well off. The 'Kinky' tag worried me, but certainly not as much as the rest or as much as having to deal with her fiancee.

Equivalent* Exchange - Part Two

"Don't worry love, I managed to track down some available folks that meet at least some of what you asked for" she explains, the sound of her heels clicking growing further away as she speaks. "I'm just going to step out for a smoke, I'll be back in a minute. Just give those a chance love, give a look at those five."

My gaze turns down towards the sheet of paper in my hand, my head banging lightly against the large device still covering me from the temples up. The text on the page is relatively small, a cost-cutting measure to save ink, and the descriptors are rather sparse.

When I had heard there would be five to choose from I had figured there would be more to go off of than this, a few little words designed to give just a brief glimpse into the lives of these people.

"I guess..." I mumble to myself, bringing the page closer to my face so I'd have even the slightest chance to read it. "I guess they don't want to be giving out too much information."

My eyes scan the page taking in what little I had been provided.

Equivalent* Exchange - Part One

"Alright" chirps the gravelly and tired voice behind me, likely a once bright and luscious tone slowly brought down by years of smoking and exhaustion. "Let's start with something easy, how about education"

I listen for a moment, the quiet room filling with the sound of typing at a keyboard. Nothing changes for me however, my gaze still largely filled with the sight of a large flat screen showing what I could only assume was brain activity. Blobs of color ebb and flow on the television, a reflection of what was occurring inside my skull as I sat inside the odd-looking device.

It looked more like one of those old-style salon hairdryers than anything else, a chair with a towering column of plastic in which I was to place my head. The whirring as it started had been distracting to say the least, but as the image had started to come through the device had grown whisper quiet.

The Lottery - Part Six

"That it is Trailer Park Barbie" Micheal chuckles, pulling around out front before idling. "Welcome to your dream palace." he continues, obviously enjoying the situation. My jaw drops, my eyes darting over the weather-worn exterior of the trailer. The untended grass surrounding it practically seeks to consume the trailer, the wheels and the small set of steps to get inside being all but obscured by the greenery.

I whimper audibly as I open the door, swinging my bare feet out of the edge as they dangle over the dirt path that carved its way up to the shitty trailer.

"Wait" calls Sara, reaching into the various compartments around her as she gathers up snacks and water bottles. Grabbing a small plastic bag from under her seat she drops it all in, a care package from the concerned looking young woman. "Here, take it" she states, pushing and struggling to get the bulging bag through the small gap in the wire fence separating us.

Sighing to himself Micheal grans the bag, rolling down his window before holding it outside. "Come on you two, we don't have all day" he groans, glancing between myself and Sara.

I slide from my seat, my feet hitting the dirt hard as I feel chest and rear jiggle with the impact. I'm forced to cover my shield my eyes, the afternoon sun bearing down hard above me. Despite that the air feels rather pleasant, the trees around me providing a natural shade and the lack of black asphalt roads leaving little space to absorb the heat.

With my lips still quivering and tears forming in my eyes I mince over to the driver's side window, reaching out for the heavy and overstuffed plastic bag. I barely have enough time to get my fingers under the straps before Miceal lets go, a whimper escaping my plump lips as I feel the thin bands of plastic dig into my soft and sensitive skin.

"Where're ma keys?" I choke out, taking the beg into two hands as I squish my breasts together with my upper arms.

"No clue" Micheal says with a shrug, "shouldn't be too hard for you to break into that piece of..."

"They are on the kitchen counter I think" Sara interjects, leaning over to speak to me through the window. "I think I saw them when I... we... well..." she mutters, rubbing the scratch marks on her neck.

"Sorry 'bout..." I begin to mutter, still feeling awful for what Alison had done to Sara. Micheal and Sara soon reply, speaking over each other before glaring at one another.

"You should be" Micheal coldly states, moving to roll up the window. "Do not worry" Sara coos, waving her hand at my apology dismissively. "It was not you who did it, remember that" Sara chirps, her face soon becoming obscured by the heavily tinted windows.

"Thank..." I begin to say, the car quickly pulling a U-turn as it flings up a cloud of dirt around it. I watch as it practically races to get back towards the entrance, Micheal still desperate to make good time in getting back home after our long drive out here.

With the heavy bag in hand I turn towards the small dirt path up to the trailer, my eyes darting over the numerous discarded bottles and cans scattered around the unkempt and wild lawn that surrounded it. As I walk up I find the feeling of the dirt and pebbles beneath my feet not being all that bad, my body apparently being used to wandering around barefoot.

"Maybe she jus' had a party or somethin'?" I meekly squeak under my breath, something about the state of my new home telling me that this simply wasn't an out-of-place occurrence. The cheap plastic folding furniture looks well worse for wear, having been left out to the elements for god knows how long. I worry that if I were to even touch it, let alone sit in it I would simply break the fragile plastic.

The old pickup truck near the trailer, while rusted and looking a little disused, appears to be of rather solid construction. The older model looks built in a better era, the quality showing in the fact it would still likely run perfectly after all this time.

As I reach the trailer I carefully pace up the small fol- out steps leading to the wire door. I feel them flex slightly underneath me, the thin sheet metal bending slightly as I put my whole body weight on it. The feel the paint peeling beneath my feet, my cold running cold as everything begins to sink in about my new body and life.

"Dis...dis is bullshit..." I whimper, wiping away tears on my heavily tattooed upper arm before opening the wire door. It sticks for a moment before popping open with a rattle. A flimsy wooden door sits behind it, the white paint peeling back around the edges of the aging wood.

As I turn the door handle I find it unlocked, the door swinging inwards as I'm met with a barrage of scents that leave me gagging. The smell of stale beer clings to the musty and sweat-laden air, the smell of moldy food and decay clinging to it all as an undertone to the general funk. The rattle and clanging of cans rattle their way across the floor as I push open the door, a sign of things to come that leaves me crestfallen.

The interior of the trailer is several outdated, the design looking more akin to something from the seventies compared to anything else. Think moss green shag carpeting stretches across the whole floor, much of it having been worn down and stained heavily over years of use. The walls are covered in a layer of fake wooden, likely some sort of cheap paneling covered in linoleum.

The entrance leads to a room that is both living room and kitchen rolled into one, the cramped space barely having space for a couch and a small TV while leaving room to move. The dark navy blue couch, much like the floor, is covered in empty cans of beer and vodka pre-mixes along with the occasional bottle of harder spirits. The tv resting against the right hand wall is also surrounded by booze, the tiny table it rests on doubling as a liquor shelf.

To my left sits a row of slender kitchen counters, an old gas range stove sitting between them as a small sink lays next to it. The countertops are covered in some kind of fake marble, heavily worn and scuffed after decades of use. The counters are painted a bright sickening orange, the contrast between them and the carpet making my eyes hurt. The sink and counters overflow with dirty dishes, flies buzzing around the fetid food clinging to the mismatched bowls and plates.

Deeper inside I notice the living area branching off into three distinct rooms, though one is merely a continuation of the living space more than anything else. Two small rooms act as a separator of the trailer, both on the far side and about halfway down the length of the aging structure. They each have a sliding door leading inside, the closer one being slightly smaller and appearing to be floored with blue and white tilling.

Wandering inside I place the bag on the kitchen counter, my eyes darting to the set of keys resting by the door. My hands clamp over my nose, the scent of my sweaty body being leagues better than that of the trail. As I tentatively pace my way down the length of my new home I open all the windows I can, the ones overlooking the kitchen soon letting in a cool breeze as the fetid air is shifted and pulled out.

To my right I glance inside the tiny room, finding the smallest bathroom I had ever seen. The folding door appears segmented, allowing it to curve around as it slides into the walls. A simple shower and toilet sit in the room, the cramped space bearly allowing for both to exist side by side. There is no sink, the kitchen sink apparently serving the purpose, leaving the pale blue water-damaged walls on full display. Mold clings to the edges of the shower and around the drain, the small fan above the tiny frosted window either not working or never being used to keep the moisture at bay.

The next room down appears a little larger, the same folding sliding door being used to keep it hidden from the rest of the house. I slowly open it up, the slats of wood clacking loudly as they slide into the wall. Inside I'm met with the sight of filing cabinets, over a of them, all placed haphazardly around the room. A small folded-up single bed rests squished up against the far wall, the thing likely barely fitting in the room despite its tiny size.

"Are these da cab'nets dat Al'son was takin' 'bout?" I mutter to myself, reaching out to one and pulling open a single draw. Paper, stacks and stacks of paper sit inside with large dividers separating them for one reason or another. My eyes glance over it all, my headache and temporarily dulled mind struggling to really take it all in.

"Dat's a later problem" I sigh, stumbling out of the room and towards the last room at the end of the trailer.

The last room is a mess, the cans extending out this far as they pool around the sides of a large disorganized double bed. The sheets appear stained and filthy, weeks or months of use without a single washing slowly adding up. Clothes litter the bed, various items of cheap and tight clothing having been left out either due to laziness or not being sure what to wear. The walls are painted a dark red, the almost purple color giving a moody and almost sensuous feeling to the bedroom as a whole. A feature wall of the same fake wood sits to the right, a large wardrobe and small vanity sitting pressed flat against it.

The vanity is covered in various letters, most of which lay torn open. Approaching them I pick up a few, my eyes darting over them as my jaw drops.

 

Ms. Alison Mae Daniels

We are writing to inform you that the plea you have made with the DA has been accepted. While your license will still be revoked for a period of (14 Months) for your offense (Dangerous and Reckless Driving Whilst Intoxicated) no such offense will be listed on your criminal record. 

You have been added to the Lottery pool, and will be in such pool for a period of (14 Months). 

The fines relating to this offense and those outstanding have also been waived as a part of this deal as well as a sign of good will. 

We hope this is the last time you will be hearing from us.

Joanne Williams,

District Attorney's Office

"Criminal..." I whimper, my hands shaking as I read the letter. While the current offense had been looked past thanks to joining the Lottery I couldn't help but worry what else she had done.

My eyes quickly move to the next letter, finding several essential-looking documents inside. While the letter is rather short I find myself immediately moving to the two formal documents in the back, a pair of death certificates dated for only a few months back for a Mr. and Mrs. Daniels. I feel my heartache as I read them, a pang of sadness being felt for the young woman who had apparently lost both her parents at the same time.

"Da poor darlin'" I mutter under my breath, my face softening before I remember that she had escaped that life and into my own thanks to whatever fuck up had occurred with her rating by the Lottery.

Lastly I turn to another formal-looking letter, immediately recognizing the letterhead at the top as belonging to a big three law firm.

 

Dear Mrs. Daniels.

We regret to inform you that you uncle, Mr. Walter Riley, has recently passed away without leaving a will. As those managing his estate we have been searching for his next of kin and have, after no small amount of effort, found that you are to inherit his estate intestate.

We will be delivering to you all documentation relating to the estate, including all deeds and transactions, for your perusal. Updating document registers and resolving now dissolved trusts relating to these assets may take some time however, so please in the meantime try to come to an understanding of the estate to the best of your ability before contacting us to discuss where we are to go from here.

We wish to repeat our condolences once more, and hope to hear from you soon. 

Best regards, Mathew Colbyn,

Principal Attorney - Wills and Estates

I quickly drop the letters back on the vanity, racing back through the trailer towards the cabinet-filled room. I wince and groan as I feel my chest bounce achingly as I run, my hands reaching up to cradle the heavy mounds as I attempt to stop their jiggling.

As I reach the room I quickly rip open a draw, pulling out the first stack of files as my eyes dart over them. I feel the gears in my had grind together, the mental rust in Alison's underused brain making it hard for me to really move through the documents with any real speed.

Long lists of transactions and emails fill page after page, a long stapled-together section of documents resting at the end with a settlement and deed from some property I had never heard of before. A small plan sits along with the deed, the quaint little home apparently having quite the nice backyard and what appeared to be three bedrooms.

I quickly place the files back where I found them, moving on to the next soon after before repeating the task with each one in the draw. House after apartment after house all appear to be neatly organized and detailed in the folders, the full history of the communications leading up to the transaction being meticulously kept along with all the documents relating to the property and its sale. Each has the same name appearing multiple times, Walter Riley, as the buyer or the owner of the property on the deed.

It soon all starts sinking in. There were at least a dozen of these filing cabinets in this room, with four draws apiece and god knows how many properties in each one. If they were all the inheritance, all the properties of this Uncle Walter, then that would make her wealthy beyond my wildest dreams.

I drop to the floor, feeling my plush plump behind acting as I pillow against the plush shag carpeting. Chewing at my bottom lip I try to focus, thinking back to my law degree as I pray it wasn't lost in the transfer. Reading over more and more of the documents, fishing them out of the bottom draws of the nearest cabinets, I try to wrap my head around just how much needed to be done.

"Reg'ster needs ta be changed... bank 'counts need ta be updated... an' like they said, trus' need ta be dissolved or updated ta reflect da new ben'ficary" I mutter, barely paying attention to my voice as I butcher the words leaving my mouth.

"They prob'ly 'ave more 'sperience dan me, but..." I muse, frowning heavily as I try to focus on the rough timeline on my head. "To get me 'outta 'ere? Should prob'ly only take..."