Build-a-Mom (Swap Clinic) - Part Four

"Thanks..." Kelly whispers, grinning nervously from ear to ear as she practically squirms with excitement where she stands. She grips my hand ever tighter, her palms growing sweaty from the anxiety bubbling up inside her.

"We just need to sign... thing... I think, to make things all legal and stuff for the new... you" she states, simply eliciting a nod and a warm smile from me as my stomach grumbles distractingly. "Once we're done we can... can..." she muses, trailing off as her eyes dart around in deep thought. It's as though she is searching for the answer to come to her, to find it floating around the front desk or behind the counter.

"Ma'am..." calls the chubby young man as he plods back over to us, two plain-looking folders in his pudgy grip. He places one folder in front of each of us, one labelled 

'Kelly Richards'

As he slides the other in front of me my eyes go wide, my heart hammering so hard in my chest I can hear it in my ears. With my free hand I reach up, pointing to the label as I look at a deeply nervously Kelly.

'Evelyn Richards'

"Are we..." I whimper, stepping closer to her as I lock eyes to the brunette beside me. Kelly's face burns a deep tomato red, her mouth hanging open as she blabbers ineffectively through the nerves.

Build-a-Mom (Swap Clinic) - Part Three

I squint, the motion forcing my eyelids to lock into a partially closed state. My breath catches in my throat at the sight of the page, the image of a computer generated woman in her late teens to early twenties  barely making its way through the bubbling viscous goo.

The wall of roiling bubbles quickly becomes to intense to read through. Before long I'm merely left to ruminate on the image I had seen on the page, the sight of a slender pale redhead with sharp and striking features along with perfect modest curves.

Build-a-Mom (Swap Clinic) - Part Two

I watch as a shadow creeps into the room, the thick dark lines spreading from the bright light beyond the door as my future partner slips into the room. I swallow hard, gagging and squirming weakly as my eyes lock to figure as they approach the tank.

My eyes go wide along with theirs, my pathetic squirming growing more pronounced as I set my gaze on Kelly Richards, my petite artsy neighbor who just started college looking downright shocked.

The young brunette stands in the doorway, her mouth agape as she stares up at my bobbing form. Her hazel eyes, shimmering in a blending of light browns and dull greens, dart around in a frenzy as she tries to reckon with the sight before her.

Her petite five foot seven frame is cloaked in a blend of think and flimsy clothing along with a warmer and cozy outer layer. A gray beret sits atop her shiny brown hair, the long luscious locks draping down over her shoulders. A black spaghetti-strap top clings to her slender frame, adhering her to pert and slightly more than modest bust. Her legs seem to be poured into a pair of jean shorts, the worn and weathered material sporting innumerable splotches of random paint.

A long shawl cardigan drapes down from over her shoulders to past her knees, the heavy and thick moss green wool providing warmth in all the rainy frigid weather we had been experiencing of late. Water droplets cling to the fabric, a black umbrella clenched in her left hand leaving a trail of water behind her wherever she walks.

Build-a-Mom (Swap Clinic) - Part One

Breathing deeply from the tube crammed down my throat, my vision blurred as I stare through the thick green ooze encasing me, I try to keep calm. It had been hours since I had climbed into the tank, stripping myself down completely before diving into thick and oddly electrifying goo, and with each passing minute the fear of being forgotten grows and grows.

As I try to move and shift in the heavy goop I find my arms and legs barely responding. The subtle tingling from the electrified substance surrounding me seems to deaden my muscles and dull my senses, causing the faint warmth spreading through the tank to lull my limbs into a practically limp state.

The faint beeping of a heart rate monitor barely manages to reach me inside the tank, the heavily muffled noise increasing in tempo as I cast my mind back to how I had ended up inside the terrifying tank. It had sadly only taken a single ad to get me on this path, one little email to capture my thoughts for the preceding weeks.

 

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