Naughty or Nice - Naughty - Part One

As the doughy old man places the small gift box on my coffee table a mug is jostled, the ceramic soon tumbling to the floor with a loud crash.

I lurch up from my strained and light sleep, the smashing of the mug against the wooden floor ripping me from a dream already fading from my mind. The footfalls quicken in pace in the living room down the hall, the soft steps soon disappearing out the window before the sound of bells begin to pull away and into the distance.

Despite the freezing temperature I leap from my bed, pulling open the draw of my bedside table as I grab out the heavy metal torch sitting within. Armed to the best of my ability and with a stream of harsh light in hand I begin to tentatively pace towards the bedroom door.

Hunched low I slowly open the door with a painfully long creak, my bleary sleep filled eyes straining to see in the darkened rooms despite the harsh stream of light pouring from the powerful torch. Creeping down the hallway I careful step into the combined living room and kitchen. The window sits up, snowflakes slowly falling in as a harsh and painfully cold breeze billows inside.

Whipping my head around I soon find my torchlight pointed towards the shattered pale green coffee mug, my attention soon turning to the coffee table on which it once sat. My eyebrow cocks in confusion as I aim the torchlight at the object sitting in the center of the old low wooden table, my eyes squinting as I stare at the stark grim coal black present.

The scent of ash and fire hangs heavily in the air, an undertone of dirt wafting up to me as I inch towards the box. I swear that in the harsh light of the torch and the striking shadows of the dim apartment around me the box appears to shift, the pristine cardboard sides bulging and almost breathing and hiss like the bestial thing is alive.

Fountain of Youth - Part Three

Looking around the clearing I try to find the source of the noise, my gaze soon falling on a lithe redhead with engorged veiny breasts. The shafts of light streaming down from the canopy illuminate her, the light bouncing off the small pond before her acting as an additional fill light.

Behind her sits a large handwoven basket, the rough-hewn container resting be the rocks as various mushroom and wild root vegetables sit inside the bundle of shaped dry reeds. A light dress sits beneath the basket, the wrapped-up fabric working to hold the basket in place. The dress itself looks to be hand-made, the uneven stitching bridging a section of robin's egg blue and crisp white fabric drawing my eye.

Fountain of Youth - Part Two

"I can't believe I finally found it" I chuckle, opening up my journal to the last page and the glued-in picture of the globe. Taking my pencil I hastily make a tiny cross over the fountain of youth on the map, leaving an 'X' to mark the spot like the treasure it truly was.

"To think, all this time it's been hiding in France" I chuckle to myself, shifting to sit up on my elbows as I look about the small clearing.

I had always figured there would be one of these bodies of mystical water somewhere in Europe, the prevalence of stories in continent as well as it's size making it a prime location for some secluded spring to hide.

I had been winding my way through the regions for weeks now, from Aquitaine to Alsace, wandering the back roads and woods in search of this hidden treasure.

I had almost moved on, my mind turning to which country to cross into next when I woke up this morning. However, I still had one more stretch of forest to check through and I had known it would have driven me mad knowing I left without actually taking the time to search it.

Fountain of Youth - Part One

Moving slowly through the underbrush I trudge up the steep incline towards my goal. Rocks and soil beneath my boots shift and move with each step, my gloved hands reaching out to branches and tree trunks as I pull myself up towards the crest of the hill in the distance.

Sweat runs down my face, the heavy pack in my back and the hours and hours wandering the wilderness having left me exhausted and drained beyond belief. Still it would all be worth it if I could just find my target, the whole reason I had been traveling so far from my tiny apartment.

Wiping at my eyes with my arms as I reach the top I lean up against one of the old trees that had once blocked my line of sight up and over the steep hill. I had intended to climb up here to get a better view of my surroundings, to better see over the hills and trees in search of my prize or at least some nearby roads or paths to point me in the right direction or help get me back to my hotel.

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

However, one thing quickly snaps me back into focus. My eyes fixate on the last page, my gaze locking to the number of signatures at the bottom of the agreements. Swallowing hard I read it over, finally internalizing the three potential clients.

The signatures vary wildly in nature, from elegant and swirling calligraphy-like loops to jittery chicken scratch and the simple printed name 'Mary-Anne' sitting in between. My stomach sinks at the sight of all the names, my hand absentmindedly shifting to my hairy stomach at the thought of what it could mean.

As Pam returns, clutching the clipboard beneath one arm with a glass of whiskey in each hand, she is followed by a small group of people. The sound of slow footsteps, heavy set stomping, and the sound of creaking wheels reach my ears before the sight of any of the potential clients.

Pam quickly passes me one of the glasses, taking a sip from the other herself as she revels in the perks of her position, the sight of the first client causing me to take a long drawn-out sip as well.

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

Sitting on a small stool I glance around at the shelves surrounding me, the towering frames reaching up to the metal roof and the hanging lights that poorly lit the space. It wasn't like they were intended to properly light the place at night, with the workers having cleared out hours ago.

The shelves are lined with various boxes of parts and pieces of machinery. Without any knowledge of the location one could easily just think of the place as some dispatching hub for some home improvements or tech store. However, I had not only seen the sign out front but also one of the bare devices in the back with each pointing to the same business.

The Swap Clinic

The Trait Exchange - Part Three

My body finally wins out, causing me to race to the fridge and the build blocks I so desperately craved. As I rip the door open I barely even notice six new offers come in.

I'm practically drooling as I stare inside the fridge, my gaze rapidly racing over each of the scant few essentials I had left. I had been needing to go shopping, to refill my shelves with the necessities I had been living off of thanks to my limited budget.

The Trait Exchange - Part Two

"I mean... What's the harm in just looking?" I mutter to myself, my teeth clenched as I knew just how impulsive I could be with other purchases. "I'll need to open it anyway to try and block these stupid fucking..."

I stop mid-sentence, my eyes going wide as I recoil at the sight of the offers that had been made just between last night and this morning. As the app loads, I find myself staring at six new offers.

The Trait Exchange - Part One

Wandering past I the kitchen counter, a plate of breakfast in one hand and a mug of piping hot coffee in the other, watch as my phone light's up once again. The screen flickers on, the notification leaving me sighing and rolling my eyes as I read the phrase I had seen what feels like a thousand times before.

New Offer Made: Open Trait Exchange App to View Details

Inhaling deeply I just walk past, not wanting to engage with this nonsense so early in the morning. As I drop my plate of plain and cheap buttered toast on the coffee table I take my seat, grumbling under my breath.

"Stupid fucking... Things..." I huff, looking down at my slender pale arms and the partially revealed shoulder beneath my loose black cotton shirt. "I mean... they're worth it but... I need to work out how to set them to private."

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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Mix & Match - Part Three

The sound of morning birds rouse me from my sleep, the piercing chirps and tweets carrying effortlessly through the crisp morning air. Gone were the usual sound of my upstairs neighbors, of people out in the hall, of cars on the street and commuters on the sidewalk.

I had expected to wake up on the floor after last night, to feel the carpet and chalk beneath me thanks to my sudden collapse. However, I instead find myself in an extremely comfortable bed and tucked in under numerous warm blankets with care. The gears in my head begin to turn, rusted up by my morning malaise, as I try to work out what the hell had happened.

Mix & Match - Part Two

"Well...Maybe just one" I say with a smirk, reaching into the water-like mass as I begin to paw around.

As my hand passes into the partially transparent wall of features I begin to strain my eyes, searching for something to test this whole thing with. Waving my hand around I finally wrap my fingers around something, ripping it out of the cascade as I bring my hand back up to my eye level. Resting in the small glowing orb is an image of wavy dark red hair, hanging around some unidentifiable person's neck in an array of curls.

Mix & Match - Part One

Pacing around my meager apartment I constantly glance between the kitchen window and the clock on my phone. Beyond the clean pane of glass I can see the intense glow of the moon outside, a dull red color beginning to overtake the bright white of the full moon.

"Five more minutes" I mutter breathlessly, grinding my teeth as I find my gaze drifting to the torn and aged page resting on my coffee table.

Walking over I snatch up the large and fragile piece of paper, straining my vision as I try to read it in the dim light of my living room. Moving slowly about the small apartment I begin to light candle after candle, the large black wax cylinders giving me barely enough light to read the page.