i'm Back!

 

In hindsight, I probably deserve what I got.  I'm the one who slammed fifteen beers before slamming my fists into every person and surface I could find.  Waking up the next morning in a jail cell, I paid the fine I had accrued.  I was notoriously undefeated at poker, so money wasn't exactly a problem for me.  It was a week later that things went awry.

I wasn’t supposed to go back to that bar in the first place, but I figured that I’d just pay off the bartender and be done with it.  The reaction to me coming through the door with a mighty “I’M BACK, BITCHES!” was met with eye rolls and groaning.  Behind the counter, the bartender was crossing her arms, oddly silent.

Unperturbed, I took my usual place at the counter, suddenly finding the barkeep looking me in the eye.  “You’re Back, huh?” she said, unamused at my antics.  “Well, in that case, nice to meet you.  I’m Witch.”

In the moment, I thought she was just trying to scare me off.  When I started feeling woozy, eventually blacking out, I realized far too late that she was being serious.  She was a witch.  And my own words had just sealed my fate.

Waking up, I knew something was off.  First of all, everything was dark.  Not quite what I would call pitch-black, but dark enough where I couldn’t make out any details of my surroundings.  Something soft was brushing against my entire body, like a layer of silky cloth.  I had no clue what that could be, since last I knew, I had somehow passed out in the bar before having a single drop to drink.  There was a constant movement, though extremely slow and methodical.  Ever so slightly side-to-side, although I wasn’t entirely sure which way was up.  And it felt like the movement was coming from… me?  Something behind me?  Or maybe more like something behind me that I was somehow attached to…

Speaking of which, nothing about my body felt right.  It was almost like I had somehow been completely flattened.  Or… well, not completely.  There were definitely contours to follow and define my shape, although that shape definitely didn’t feel particularly human.  It was like there was a slight valley running down the middle, curving in before jutting out.  Two flat surfaces plateaued near the top of my form.

Finally, my… ears?... picked up on something entirely unexpected.  Slow, soft breathing, high-enough pitched to be obviously feminine, and perfectly in sync with the odd side-to-side movement I was experiencing.  It sounded like it was coming from behind me.  Was I somehow actually in bed with someone?  Was the silken substance a sheet, or a nightgown perhaps?  Above all else, why couldn’t I force myself to move?  It was like I was paralyzed; any movement I experienced was completely outside of my control.

Suddenly, my efforts to figure out what the hell had happened to me was interrupted by the irritating sound of a ringing alarm.  A soft groan was uttered somewhere above me, and my world was launched into a whirlwind of motion.  Something underneath me tensed and shifted, and everything tumbled to the side.  Or was I now upright?  God, all of this was so confusing.  It felt like something fell against me from the other side of the silken substance.  One side of me stretched backward, pulled by an unseen force, and the sound of the alarm was cut off.

“Ugh... fuckin’ alarm... Not ready for this shit…”

The obviously female voice above and behind me certainly took me by surprise.  It had a slight accent to it, an accent I had definitely heard before, but couldn’t quite place.  My entire world suddenly shifted upward, the silk covering me never quite staying still.  More uncomfortable unwilling movement forced my entire body to bend to something else’s will.  Finally, the upper corners of my form stretched upward, then scrunched in a seemingly inhuman way.  I felt the silk slide across my body, and I was finally greeted with sight.

I was in someone’s bedroom, obviously female, although cleanliness didn’t seem to be a high priority.  Various pieces of sportswear were scattered around the room.  Leggings thrown into a corner, a sports bra hanging from the handle of a small treadmill, other pieces of clothing littered the floor, all tossed with no care to where they landed.  My vision swung around, letting me see a large bed that someone had clearly just gotten out of.  On the floor next to the bed was a light blue silk pajama top crumpled without a care.  Was that what was covering me?

It was weird that I had that thought at all, but something else had become clear to me.  I was smaller than I was before, and by quite a bit.  Most things in the room dwarfed me.  I moved backward, and my vision turned again, bringing me face to face with a body length mirror.  What I saw confused me more than anything else thus far.

I couldn’t see myself anywhere.  Instead, there was the reflection of a woman facing away from the mirror, clad only in a pair of panties.  She was completely topless, although it was only her back in the reflection.  Her skin was a light brown color, looking well-suited for time in the sun.  The woman clearly worked out, the muscles in her back being incredibly well-defined.  I saw her reach over her shoulder to scratch an itch high on her shoulder blade.  At the same time, my upper left side stretched weirdly before I saw a light-brown-skinned feminine hand enter my vision, and I felt the fingernail scratch uncomfortably against my surface.  As the itch was taken care of, the impossible truth of my situation finally dawned on me.

I wasn’t human anymore.  In fact, I was only a part of someone else.  The concave line running down my middle was the outline of this woman’s spine.  The plateaus on top were her shoulder blades.  Every move she made had some sort of effect on me, whether big or small, all completely outside of my control.  I had somehow been transformed into this woman’s back.

The sound of a drawer scraping open shook me out of my shocked state.  I couldn’t see what the woman - my owner?  Host? - was doing, until she finally pulled out a clean sports bra from her underwear drawer.  Not immediately realizing what that meant, I was along for the ride as she lifted her arms above her head, stretching me upwards along with her.  A lot more unusual movement later, and she slid the sports bra over her chest.  Rather suddenly, there was a network of cloth straps partially blocking my vision, the black fabric tracing over me.  In the mirror, I could see the back of the sports bra criss-crossing the woman’s upper back, further confirming my transformation.  How had this happened?

Before I could ponder that question, the woman walked to a different part of her room, taking me along with her from behind.  No longer having the mirror for reference, I had no clue what she was doing.  All I could do was have my muscles involuntarily pulled this way and that as my owner (I guess…) did something beyond my perception.  Quite unexpectedly, my vision was further obscured by a layer of fabric, a bit rougher than the silk nightshirt had been.  I wasn’t left in complete darkness - there was still a fair amount of light filtering through the sky-blue fabric.

After this, my knowledge of what was happening became maddeningly vague.  There was a lot of movement, but without being able to see, I had no clue what my owner was doing.  I didn’t even know her name yet, and yet I was along for the ride with everything she did.  A change in air quality, followed by the unwanted motion speeding up, and I still had no idea where I was.  Where we were.  In the meantime, I let my mind wander.

First of all, how and why did this happen to me?  I searched through my memories as best as I could, considering the circumstances, when one little exchange ran through my mind.

You’re Back, huh?  Well, in that case, nice to meet you.  I’m Witch.

Oh fuck, she was serious.  I didn’t think magic was even a possibility, and yet here I was, staring out of some random woman’s back.  That bartender was actually a witch, and in going back to the bar I was banned from, I made my last mistake.  She had turned my words against me, and now I existed as nothing but a barely-cared-about detail of someone else’s body.

By now, I had deduced that my host and I were outside.  The little air around me was warm, humid, almost salty.  It had been the middle of winter when I had made that final mistake, so wherever I was, it was either naturally warm year-round or somewhere in the southern hemisphere.  The sound of my owner’s footsteps sped up, and I could feel what must have been her hair bouncing against me, probably tied into a ponytail or braid.  The fabric of the sports bra never quite kept still, the light shirt fluttered against my surface, and the sensation of my entire self being manipulated by another meant that I didn’t really get much time to think.  Soon, another sensation came to the forefront.

Beads of moisture had started collecting on my surface.  Salty liquid that had forced itself through my pores in response to the heated air around me, exacerbated by the exercise my host was clearly participating in.  In short, she was starting to sweat, and I could feel, smell, and even taste every bit of it.  As much as I had been hoping that being part of a woman would be sensual in some way, obviously that wasn’t going to be the case.  This person was a fitness fiend in a tropical setting, and it was my curse to unwillingly suffer through it.  Above all else, something else sailed through the air around me:  someone else’s words.

“Aloha kakahiaka, Emalia!  Up pretty early today, aren’t ya?”

Even with the buzz of my host’s talking emanating from beneath me, I paid no attention to what she was saying.  Number one:  I had a name.  My host was a woman named Emalia, and she had just met up with a friend for a morning jog.  Two:  the friend’s words told me a lot.  I didn’t know what the second word was, but I certainly knew the first.  Not only had I been transformed into a random woman’s back, but I had been transported to Hawai’i.  That’s why the air was so warm, tinged with the saltiness of the ocean.  Why my host - Emalia - had the darker skin of a native islander.

I’ve long since lost track of how long I’ve been here.  To this day, I’ve never seen Emalia’s face.  It was a glorious day when, due to a backless dress, I finally saw other people at a party.  It made me feel like I was actually a part of it, even if the reality was that I was staring out of someone’s back.  I occasionally get glimpses of the outside world depending on what my host happens to choose to wear, and I can’t help but consider myself lucky.

Sure, I’m literally someone else’s back.  Sure, I’ll never have any level of autonomy outside of having my own opinions on what Emalia chooses to wear.  And yes, I have no choice but to silently observe someone else going through their own life, with absolutely no input from her unknown passenger.  But at least it’s a surprisingly relaxing existence.  I don’t have to worry about a job.  No taxes.  No consequences of my future actions, seeing as there will never be future actions from me.  I’ll never go hungry, never get thirsty, never have my heart broken by another person…

Naturally, there are some annoyances to my new existence.  I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the sweating.  Not being able to see about 75% of the time isn’t what I would call an upside, either.  And while showers are largely fine, baths are still terrifying.  Imagine being dunked into hot water with no ability to breathe, and you should get the idea.  But any and all cons are thoroughly outweighed by one massive pro.

I’m in fuckin’ Hawai’i!  Sure, I don’t get to see much, but it’s not like I haven’t seen anything.  It’s like I’m living my own tropical paradise - with a woman, I might add - and I don’t have to do a thing.  Tropical jungles, beaches, the ocean… It's like a dream come true!  To be honest, this doesn’t really feel like a punishment the way it was probably meant to be.  Almost like a reward, if anything.  Either that, or my mind’s acclimating to my new form.

Right now, it’s about time for my favorite kind of day.  It’s not often that Emalia starts making breakfast while only wearing a sports bra, which means it’s a warmer than usual day.  That means I’ll be left mostly uncovered for the day, so I’ll get to see where we are.  Maybe she’ll throw on a swimsuit later to take a dip in the ocean?  While the initial shock of being submerged isn’t something I’ll ever get used to, the feeling of the seawater against my skin is always exhilarating.  Not to mention having the day’s sweat washed off.

Twisted Wishes: Christmas Self-Gifting

  Quincy and Clara were at a loss.  The two had drawn names for Christmas with their family, and they each got a younger cousin.  Unfortunately, Quincy had drawn the name Flora, and Clara got Oliver.  They wanted nothing more than to trade names, but alas, the ritual of name-drawing was binding.  They had to come up with present ideas for the opposite gender, and neither had any clue what their rarely-seen cousins would want.

It was December 23rd when it happened.  The siblings were walking to the local supermarket to see if they could find anything that caught their eyes, when something caught Quincy's eyes.  A glint coming from the snowy bank prompted the 22-year-old to start digging through the snow, eventually uncovering the slightly ice-encrusted lamp.  Made of black metal with fancy red accents, Quincy and Clara weren't sure if they had ever seen something so expensive-looking.

As Quincy rubbed some of the ice off, the two were rather shocked to see a muscular gray-skinned man manifest in front of them.  Easily double the height of Quincy and truly towering over his 19-year-old sister, the genie offered them one single wish.  Not one for each, but one wish for both of them.

After some thought and discussion between the siblings, they decided to wish for something rather simple:  to know what Flora and Oliver wanted for Christmas.  They were supposed to get the presents themselves after all, and wouldn't it be nice if they could just walk straight to the areas of the store where the currently-unknown items were kept?

The genie thought to himself.  How would he twist these young adults' words against them?  After a few seconds, he came to a decision.  He smiled wickedly, said a decidedly sinister 'Wish granted,' and snapped his fingers.  With a flash of light, Quincy and Clara blinked out of existence, completely written out of reality.  Smirking to himself, Siraj returned to his lamp, teleporting elsewhere to interfere in more worthless mortals' lives.

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Quincy woke up in darkness.  The first thing he noticed was that his body felt... weird.  His limbs felt longer and thinner than they should be, and he seemed to be a lot skinnier overall.  It wasn't like he needed to lose weight before, but now he felt absolutely emaciated.  Not to mention the scratchy feeling of hair against his back, longer than he had ever let it grow.  And what was the weird feeling on his chest?

The next thing he noticed was that he couldn't move.  He couldn't budge any of his muscles a single inch.  He wasn't breathing at all, and it didn't even feel like his heart was beating.  Even if he could move, he wouldn't be able to go anywhere anyway, since he could feel something wrapped around various parts of his body.  Wrists, ankles, neck, impossibly thin waist... all restrained for no apparent reason with his complete immobility.  There was also something behind him that he seemed to be lying on, something that felt weirdly like the smooth cardboard you would find as toy packaging.

Quincy laid there in darkness and silence for what felt like weeks.  Left with only his own thoughts and absolutely no sensory stimulation, his mind wandered to the wish he had made.  How was he supposed to find out what Flora wanted for Christmas if he couldn't even move?  Was he even himself anymore?  He found himself wishing that something, anything, would happen to free him from the suffocating darkness that made up his world.

Finally, something happened.  He was still trapped in darkness with no movement, but he could hear muffled voices somewhere.  Whatever was blocking his vision was obstructing his hearing as well, but at least something was reminding him that he still existed.  He wasn't so sure he could call himself alive, though...

What little bits of the far-off conversation he could pick up told him it was now Christmas Day.  It was only two days later, not weeks like he felt it should've been.  He could hear a woman's voice that he couldn't place, and a much higher-pitched voice that sounded vaguely familiar.  It reminded him a bit of Clara's voice when she was a kid, which made him wonder where his little sister was.  He had always been fiercely protective of his younger sibling, and not knowing how she was doing right now was torturous for him.  Quincy could only hope she was okay.

Finally, he heard a clue.  The woman's muffled voice was just clear enough for him to understand the name Flora.  Was he in his aunt and cousin's house?  How did he get here?  Did the genie do this to him?  And why couldn't he move?!  Quincy wanted nothing more than to shout out to his aunt for help, but deep down he already knew it was pointless.  He couldn't move or breathe; what made him think he could still talk?

At long last, something happened.  The high-pitched voice that likely belonged to Flora got significantly closer, louder and clearer.  She sounded really excited about something near him...  Then, with no warning, Quincy heard a loud crinkling sound accompanied by the slight crack of thin plastic bending.  His world suddenly went tumbling as his prison was lifted by an unseen force.  The movement of his surroundings combined with his complete blindness would've made him sick to his stomach if he still thought he had one.

An unbearably loud ripping noise rang through his ears, and light finally flooded his eyes.  As the gigantic hand left his view, many of Quincy's unheard questions were answered.  The giant hand tearing away the wrapping paper that had blinded him was attached to his little cousin Flora, looming over his obviously shrunken form.  The little girl could hardly be described as such, big enough to easily hold him in her hand.  She seemed excited to see her big cousin, even though he could already tell she didn't see him as such right now.

At last, with an exclamation from Flora about how much she loved her new Barbie doll, Quincy's remaining questions were finally answered.  He now knew what the girl wanted, and he was sure Clara probably found out what Oliver wanted in a similarly horrifying way.  The skinnier limbs, impossibly thin waist, scratchy hair against his back, the weird feeling on his chest... even the restraints around his wrists and ankles along with the cardboard to his back and the weird glare on the clear plastic in front of him.  He had been transformed into the Barbie doll that Flora got for Christmas.

Flora's excitability certainly didn't make Quincy's vision stable, as he was shaken to and fro while the titanic child tried to pry open the packaging that isolated him from the outside world.  With the mighty tearing of the cardboard backing being separated from the plastic, he was surrounded by fresher air as he was turned toward the floor.  He could only stare at the light cream-colored plush carpet below as he felt the unseen ties being undone behind the cardboard.  The one around his left wrist came loose first, followed by the right.  The process was repeated with the ties around his ankles, and he started shifting against his will.  His waist was freed next, and Quincy was left with the uncomfortable - but thankfully not painful - sensation of hanging from the cardboard by his neck.

By now, Quincy's head was being tilted slightly to the point that he could start taking in his new form.  He couldn't see much, but the yellow plastic sandals adorning his similarly-plastic feet had entered his view, along with a tiny amount of yellow fabric right at the bottom of his field of vision.  A few slightly wavy strands of long brown hair hung over his unmoving left eye.  The giant hand of Flora also entered his vision, wrapping around his plastic body as the tie around his neck was finally loosened.

Quincy never thought he would ever be thankful for a giant hand wrapped around his torso, but the cardboard backing falling away made him grateful to the giant girl anyway.  He was turned toward his cousin, and he was suddenly thrust against her chest as she hugged her new doll and thanked her parents for the present.  They reminded her that she still had more presents, and she set her big cousin face-up on the floor next to her.  With Flora being quickly distracted by the excitement of other Christmas gifts, Quincy was left alone for a few minutes.

With his slightly turned head, Quincy took in the gargantuan form of his little cousin-turned-owner.  How was it possible for someone who was barely four feet tall to be so much bigger than him?  Even her forearm was about the same length as his entire new, unwanted body.  He realized that he was entirely at the mercy of a girl who could easily snap his new limbs off, or even his head if she wanted.  Quincy was completely powerless in this new form, and it was all because of that stupid genie!  He could only hope that Flora would be a gentle owner.

Being carried into Flora's bedroom was certainly disorienting for Quincy, being held by the waist and swung back and forth at the girl's side.  With a quick motion, he was clipped onto a stand near her child-sized vanity, watching as his new owner found a doll-sized hairbrush.  As Flora brushed his artificial hair, he took in his full reflection in the nearby mirror.  The mirror image of a mere Barbie doll.

He had long, skinny arms and feminine legs.  They were attached to his torso with painfully obvious joints, the balled shoulder joints allowing for easy posing.  His narrow shoulders led down to plastic lumps that passed as breasts, then to the impossibly thin waist that flared out into fairly wide hips.  The pelvic region was hidden from his view, but he knew it would be entirely featureless, aside from the slight definition of his new rear.  His new hyper-feminine outline was utterly foreign to the former young man, yet he couldn't deny that it was definitely his own.

The light tan of his plastic skin was adorned by a yellow, pink and purple tie-dye bikini, along with the high-heeled yellow sandals that he saw earlier adorning his permanently pointed feet.  A pair of yellow goggles was clipped loosely to the top of his head, barely hanging on in the mass of wavy brown hair sprouting out of his hollow head.  Most disturbing of all was his new face staring back at him.  The green eyes surrounded by painted-on eyelashes, eyebrows and pink eye shadow was second only to the permanent vacant smile adorned with light pink lipstick that could never be removed.  That face certainly didn't reflect the emotions Quincy was feeling, knowing that the blank, pleasant stare would be the only expression he would ever have.

His unwanted new hair finally straightened to his new owner's liking, he was unclipped from the stand and carried away by Flora.  Quincy was set face-up on top of her dresser, and he could only listen as she walked away to play with some of her other presents.  Was this really his life now?  Completely at the whim of the child who now owned him?  Would she be a gentle owner, or would damage from rougher playtime take its toll on his plastic body?  And most importantly for him right now, where was his sister?  He supposed she was probably with Oliver right now, if their wish was granted the same twisted way for both of them.

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Clara woke up in darkness.  Her fear of the dark kicked in immediately, and she tried to struggle, to shout out for help.  Unfortunately for her, she quickly realized that none of that was actually going to happen.  Not only couldn't she budge an inch, or utter even the quietest squeak, but it didn't feel like she was even breathing.  Panic began setting in as she started realizing just how weird her current situation really was.

She wasn't sure how it was possible, but she realized she didn't exactly feel human anymore.  It felt like her head and torso were part of one solid mass, and her pelvis, arms and legs were all somehow tucked into each other and inside her torso, with a little bit of her legs sticking out.  She even felt like her arms were combined into one piece, as were her legs.  Her arms weren't connected to her torso, instead being sandwiched between her pelvis and legs.  What the hell had happened to her, and why were her apparently severed body parts so jumbled together and weird-feeling?

Taking over her assumed body horror in her mind was the unbearable silence around her.  The quiet, combined with the pitch-black darkness, felt suffocating to the already-panicked young woman.  She always felt that her older brother was a bit overprotective, but at this moment she would've given anything to have him by her side.  Where was Quincy when she really needed him?

Realizing she wasn't getting any answers, she felt her panic begin to subside.  She tried to gather as much information about her surroundings as she could.  Clara could feel something wrapped loosely around her torso, almost like a strip of cardboard that was holding her against a flat sheet of the same material.  And... aside from the darkness and silence, that was about it.  She wanted to figure out more about her new situation, but there just wasn't enough to feel when her vision and hearing had been deemed useless.

An indeterminate time later, she finally experienced sensation other than feeling.  There were muffled voices somewhere far above her, a woman and what sounded like a small child.  Clara tried to shout out for help, even though she knew by now that they were highly unlikely to hear her pleas.  She was no longer expecting an answer.

Imagine Clara's surprise when another voice piped up, clear as day.  It seemed like the new voice was inside her mind, unheard by the other unseen people.  "Hello?  Is someone else there?" inquired the voice of another young woman, possibly a girl at the tail end of her teenage years.  Clara called out to her new friend, asking what was going on.

The voice identified herself as Tanya, a girl who would've turned 18 recently if she was still human.  Asked by Clara what she meant, Tanya explained that she had been transformed into a pair of boys' underwear about six months ago by a genie from a lamp.  She was being worn right now, unseen under her owner's red plaid pajama pants.  Clara asked if the lamp was red and black with a gray muscular genie, and Tanya confirmed that it must have been the same genie.

"Hey, Ollie just sat down," Tanya explained to her newfound friend.  "I have a hunch that you're one of his Christmas presents.  I wish I could tell you exactly what you are when he unwraps you, but I'm trapped in the dark just like you.  Even if there's a little bit of light filtering through his pants...  Get ready; the light's gonna be blinding after a night of complete darkness.  I'm used to it by now, but I bet you're not."

Clara wanted to ask Tanya why she seemed so relaxed, but she was interrupted before she could start by her world suddenly being put into motion.  Her pelvis, arms and legs all slid into, out of, and against each other as her entire existence was shaken violently while a now less muffled young boy's voice wondered what was inside his present.  The motion settled somewhat, but an ear-splitting tearing noise filled her likely no-longer-existing ears.  She guessed that the noise was from the boy tearing away wrapping paper from the present she had become.  Weirdly, she still didn't see any light come in.  She asked Tanya why that would be.

"I'd guess that you were put in a box at some point," Tanya explained as if what she was saying was the most normal thing a person could possibly say.  "You're probably something with a shape too awkward to wrap without one."

Clara very quickly discovered that her fellow transformee was right.  A lid was lifted away, light flooding her surroundings.  Tanya was right; the light streaming in was absolutely blinding.  It took a few seconds for her non-existent eyes to adjust, which was long enough for a hand to wrap itself around her pelvis section.  Finally able to see a bit better, she just managed to get a glimpse of the shoebox that had acted as her prison before her vision swung around to face her handler.

The boy would've been adorable if he wasn't so freaking huge.  He was definitely Caucasian, a medium smattering of freckles scattered across his face.  Short, jet-black hair framed the head of the ocean-blue-eyed 6-year-old.  He was dressed in a set of red-plaid pajamas, matching his mother's nightgown.  There was no father in sight; maybe the woman was a single mother?  Not like the mother was important to Clara right now, roughly handled by her little cousin as she was.

"Wow, Anakin's lightsaber!  Awesome!" the boy shouted excitedly, ear-piercing to the older cousin he unknowingly held in his right hand.  At least Clara finally knew what she had turned into, but the knowledge that she was a toy weapon made her nervous.

"Hey, Ollie's been asking for a toy lightsaber for a while!" Tanya said.  "I bet you're gonna be his favorite toy for a while.  He tends to hyper-fixate on things, and that thing right now is Star Wars."

"Thanks a lot, Tanya, that makes me feel so much better," Clara responded sarcastically.  She was glad that she still had someone to talk to, but why did her new friend have to be so nonchalant about the idea of being an inanimate object?  Was that what she was in for a few months down the line, too?  Would she also adapt to her new existence as a child's toy, let alone one built to be repeatedly swung around and slammed against other toys similar to herself?  Jeez, if she didn't know any better, Clara would say that Tanya even seemed happy to not be human anymore.  She certainly hoped that she would never stoop to that level of humiliation.

The strap of cardboard was removed from her torso, and Clara was lifted away from the cardboard packaging that had held her hostage.  Not that a six-year-old boy's hand was necessarily preferable.  With a disorienting flicking motion, the tubes she once called her pelvis, arms and legs smoothly slid into place, making up the blade portion of her new body.  A mirror on the wall on the other side of the living room gave her an idea of exactly what she looked like, the translucent blue 'blade' now extended out of the silver handle with black accents.

Her brother Quincy had been quite the Star Wars fan, and while she wasn't as big of a mega-fan as he was, Clara definitely wasn't a stranger to the series.  She easily recognized her new body as a toy version of the iconic Skywalker lightsaber.  More worrying was the realization of what exactly that meant.  Was being used in a play duel going to hurt?  She wasn't exactly looking forward to finding out.

After opening his other presents, Oliver was told by his mother to put his new toys away before they had breakfast.  The boy grabbed Clara's torso-turned-hilt and carried her to his bedroom.  She couldn't see much as one of Oliver's fingers had crossed her line of vision at the end of her hilt, but she could at least see the display board on his bedroom wall.  There was already a Darth Vader mask hanging from a hook, as well as TIE Fighter and Star Destroyer stickers dotted around the display.  She could just barely make out the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to the ceiling before her new owner clipped her pelvis section onto the display, thankfully turning her sight line away from the wall.  The child then ran back out of his room to enjoy his breakfast, something the new lightsaber would never be able to do again.  Tanya's voice faded as her wearer dashed further away.

Clara was left in relative peace to ponder a single question:  Where was Quincy?  She could assume that he was probably turned into Flora's Christmas present, but she couldn't necessarily be sure.  She just hoped he was having an easier time than she was, and that he would lead a less rough life than she was bound to.

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Quincy knew it had been about a year since his transformation.  New Christmas presents drew Flora's attention away from him, and while he hated himself for thinking it, he wished they hadn't.  The former man had grown used to his life as a Barbie doll.  Hair brushing, new outfits, playful 'dates' with her only Ken doll, playdates with her friends and their own Barbies...  While everything was girly to the extreme, his mind had adapted.  Unfortunately, that meant he was starting to grow jealous of her other toys when she started paying more attention to them than him.

Over time, his hair had become increasingly unruly through repeated brushing and styling.  His right arm was bent slightly out of shape, and the paint on his lips was slowly fading.  Flora had been as gentle an owner as an eight-year-old girl could've been, but time was taking its toll.

Now, Quincy laid in an awkward position buried in Flora's toybox.  Most of it was filled with other Barbies, with a layer of doll clothing collecting on the bottom.  Not that he could see it, trapped in the darkness as he was.  He could just about make out the dark brown of an African-American Barbie's arm, and he could feel another doll's legs laying across his own, along with another's hair resting against his plastic abdomen.  Once a man, he was now just another Barbie to bring fleeting enjoyment to his owner.

He hadn't thought of Flora as anything other than his owner for a few months.  After all, he couldn't possibly consider her his cousin anymore.  She was human, and he wasn't.  Simple as that.  He no longer felt like he was intruding on her privacy, as he was simply another of her possessions now.  Why should he care that he lived in the girl's bedroom?  He lived where she wanted him to.  He saw what she wanted him to see.  He did what she wanted him to do.

There were a few things Quincy tried to hold onto as he tried to keep hold of his lost humanity.  His name was something he needed to keep reminding himself of, since Flora had given him the new name Sandra.  He kept running through other memories in his head so he couldn't forget who he used to be.  And he always made sure to think of his lost sister, even if her name had finally faded from his mind.

His efforts to keep his sanity were beginning to fail.  His tactic of running through memories wasn't working, as the number of those memories slowly shrank over time.  He had already forgotten the name of his sister, and even his own name was in danger of slipping.  He caught himself thinking of himself as Sandra on a regular basis, it being the only name he was referred by out loud.  Quincy could only do so much inside his own hollow head, and he was starting to wonder if it was even worth it anymore.  Maybe it would be better to let go, and let himself be nothing but the Barbie doll he now was.

For now, Sandra Quincy would try to hang on...

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Clara laid in silence on Oliver's bedroom floor as he opened this year's Christmas presents.  He had forgotten to put her back on the display she now called home after playing with her in the backyard the night before.  He and his friend had a blast dueling, and Clara had found a way to share their fun, even if the repeated impacts against Zeke's Obi-Wan lightsaber still hurt a bit.  She had mostly gotten used to it.

Clara had indeed become her former cousin's favorite toy, and that hadn't faded the slightest bit over the past year.  Her blade definitely had scratches, some of the paint on her hilt was worn away, and the sound effects her body produced were starting to malfunction.  The light inside her had been replaced once, the sensation of being taken apart and repaired not exactly pleasant for the transformed woman.  Having her batteries replaced was never a great feeling either, but she knew that each replenishment meant Oliver would play with her even more than usual for a few days.

She didn't even have the company of Tanya anymore.  Oliver had finally outgrown her in October, and the slightly stained, stretched-out pair of star-print underwear was thrown away without a second thought from her owner.  Once the bathroom garbage bag she suddenly called home was taken out, Clara never heard from her friend again.  Tanya had served her purpose.

Clara also never heard from her brother again, although she had forgotten his name a couple months prior.  She still wondered how he was doing, but she was sure he must have been just as content with his new life and owner as she was with hers.  Even now, her name was slipping from her mind, and she was fully prepared to let it happen.  The toy lightsaber that needed new batteries was ready to let go.  Maybe it would happen the next day, maybe next week, maybe months or years from now.  Only time would tell.

Amalgamation 5/31: Intestinal Drama

 Originally by SportsTF; rewritten by me

A Random Bout of Frugality (also, I'm back!)

  32-year-old single father Howard never fully understood exactly what happened.  One moment, he was shopping with his 8-year-old son Malek, and listening to some Hispanic woman muttering about her daughter needing a new school uniform.  The next, Howard, Malek and several other people around them found themselves falling to the floor.  Most gently fluttered, though Howard fell quickly and landed with twin 'thunk' sounds.

Now utterly disoriented with his vision pointed in two very different directions, he watched as several items of clothing were picked up from the near-eye-level ground.  A white hair scrunchie, white blouse, dark blue dress, white training bra and panties, black spandex shorts... A pair of white socks was lifted, and Howard heard the unmistakable voice of the Hispanic woman from earlier speak up.

"Oh look, I seem to have captured a little family.  How cute!  How about I let the two of you talk?"  She snapped her fingers, and Howard could suddenly hear Malek's voice ringing in his... ears?  He didn't really feel like he had ears anymore...  "There we go, isn't that better?  Oh, look at the time!  I'd better get these new clothes to my Isabela before anyone realizes anything weird..."

The assortment of clothing had been shoved into a bag by now, including the pair of socks that Malek's voice seemed to be emanating from.  Finally, the woman reached down toward Howard, her massive fingers hooking inside some unseen part of his body.  He felt his form move randomly and separately, so perhaps the term 'bodies' was more accurate...  He was dropped on top of the clothing in the bag, with a sharp "Ouch!" from Malek as he landed on top of the socks.

A confusing collection of light, color and rough movement followed as Howard and the other contents of the bag were carried through the store.  The only break in the next half hour was the face and hands of a male worker checking to make sure the items of clothing weren't being stolen.  By now, Howard had realized that his 'bag-mates' were, in fact, transformed people, and that he and Malek had been transformed as well.  He tried to wrap his clearly non-existent head around the undisputable fact that his young son was now a pair of girls' white socks as they were carried out of the store.  The woman would drive them to their new home, and by extension, their new owner.

As it turned out, their owner was an 11-year-old girl by the name of Isabela, and she attended a nearby private school.  Clearly this small family was wealthy; the woman had merely decided she didn't want to pay for her daughter's newest uniform this time.  It didn't seem like she used her otherworldly abilities very often.  The people around her that day had simply been convenient victims to her random bout of frugality.

Their first day being worn wasn't exactly pleasant for anyone involved not named Isabela.  Howard couldn't speak for most of the fellow clothing, although he couldn't imagine the person-turned-panties was having a good time.  He and Malek had the unique perspective of being split into two bodies each.  Howard listened as his son was pulled onto the older girl's tan legs, feeling as her newly-grown leg hair poked roughly into his fabric.  Finally, it was his turn.

Howard's left half was picked up by the gargantuan Hispanic tween, and slipped onto her left foot.  The Malek-covered appendage fit perfectly into Howard's inner cavity, and he felt his unwanted metal piece be buckled into place, locking his strap in place.  The process was repeated with his right half, and Isabela stood upright, ready to start her day.

The girl probably only weighed about 90 pounds, and yet Howard felt as if he was being crushed by a near-infinite weight.  The gentle thuds of his rubber soles hitting the ground were the only reminder of just how light she really was, and how insignificant he had become.  He thought of his son, partially contained within his own father and stretching a mere inch or two above the girl's ankles.

Howard's vision was locked to the front-facing toe region, so the world passed by in a disorienting whirl of fast-moving shapes, too quick for him to fully comprehend.  The girl simply continued with her morning routine, eating breakfast and donning her backpack, completely oblivious to the torture she was putting her new uniform through.  The group of eight former humans acted as unwilling passengers to a perfectly average school day for their 11-year-old owner.

Today is another school day, and Isabela is waiting at her bus stop.  Howard tries to enjoy the brief break from her walking, even if she still moves her feet around in the restless manner he has grown used to over the past few months.  He has no way of knowing if the rest of her outfit today is made of ex-humans, but he knows the socks contained within him definitely aren't.  After all, he was being worn the day the basic socks were bought from the very store he and Malek were taken from.

Howard has gotten used to seeing from the girl's toes as she walks, to the point where it's no longer disorienting for him.  The weight, although slowly increasing, is certainly bearable, and the repetitive impact of her footsteps no longer bother him in the slightest.  The only thing he struggles with is the fact that Isabela obviously has no idea what her mother did, and doesn't know that she wears transformed people on a regular basis.  Oh, and the fact that Malek has gone missing.

In reality, Malek was packed in Isabela's suitcase when she and her family went on vacation.  On the final night, a small nick in her big toenail tore a hole in his fabric.  The new hole bothered her more than the one that had formed on the bottom of his other half, so she took him off.  Having returned home the day before, Malek's twin cotton bodies rest in a small garbage can in the hotel room, along with a discarded box, a couple tissues, and a pair of Isabela's tights that developed a bad run.  The former boy now waits for hotel maintenance to come in and seal his final fate...

Twisted Wishes: A New Start

  45-year-old Morgan was on a routine trip to the local Wal-Mart with her husband and kids.  They were only really there for groceries, but Alma, her 6-year-old daughter, had demanded that they check out the toy area before they left.  The girl had developed a bit of a spoiled attitude, but Morgan really didn't want to cause a scene in the middle of the store.  Her teen son Ray had wandered off to the nearby video game area while Alma browsed for a new Barbie doll.

While her husband Liam handled their hyperactive daughter, Morgan couldn't help but notice an out of place glimmer in the middle of a bunch of stuffed animals. Pushing them out of the way, the tired mother discovered a fancy red-and-black lamp that looked straight out of the movie Aladdin.  Realizing that this metal object definitely wasn't a toy, she grabbed it, planning to turn it in to customer service.  Turning it over in her hands, she noticed that it didn't have a price tag, and absentmindedly rubbed the area where the sticker should've been.

Suddenly, the entire store seemed to freeze around her as an actual genie appeared before her eyes.  The large, muscular gray man shrouded in smoke seemed to study the middle-aged woman in front of him, then addressed her in a booming, thunderous bass.  "Greetings, mistress.  You have summoned me from my lamp, and I shall grant you one wish."

Morgan regarded the genie with skepticism, wondering why she was only getting one wish instead of three.  Also the fact that there was a freaking genie floating in the air in front of her.  Deciding that she was, in fact, in the middle of a crazy dream, she quickly decided what her wish would be.  "Well, I've only ever been tired since I had my first kid, and I've always wished I could just... start over, you know?  Have a fresh new start, live a different life, without my husband and kids dragging me down."

The genie considered the woman's wish for a second.  It was one of the most selfish wishes he had heard in a long time, but searching her memories, he understood why.  Her husband was a lazy man who enabled the little girl's bratty behavior, and the teenager had started acting out as well.  He came up with a way to grant the wish while also enacting a bit of twisted justice, and finally replied to the woman.  "Your wish is my command, mistress."  With a snap of his fingers, the woman and her family vanished, their previous lives erased from reality.

A few aisles away, a young woman's unspoken wish was granted as well.  In this new reality, 21-year-old Maya now remembered a positive pregnancy test taken 2 weeks ago, learning that she was about a month along.  She and her fiancée had been trying for a child since they got engaged, and they were finally going to start a family.

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Morgan and her family woke up in darkness.  As the others began shouting and screaming, all somehow in her mind, the fatigued mother began gathering as much information about her surroundings as she could.  Wherever they were, it was wet everywhere, as if she was floating in some kind of warm liquid.  It didn't quite feel like water, perhaps a little bit thicker and slimier.  She felt like something was attached to her, a sentiment that the others shared.

Suddenly, a muffled-yet-booming voice rang out from somewhere above them.  "I just can't wait to meet our new baby!" the feminine voice said, and suddenly Morgan realized what had happened.  Her wish had been granted, and her family had been dragged along for the experience.

'Everyone, be quiet for a moment!' Morgan cried out mentally, and her husband and children thankfully complied.  'I know what's going on.  I made a wish for a new beginning, and now we're zygotes inside a pregnant woman.  We're going to be reborn as new people.'

A pause commenced, followed by complaints from her new womb-mates.  Morgan's family didn't seem too pleased by the revelation, but she was perfectly fine with it.  Although, she was wondering why her family had been roped into it as well.  She had specifically wanted a new life WITHOUT the others, so why were they here?  Regardless, she settled into her new existence, waiting to develop into a form more recognizable as human.  She guessed their new mother was about a month along in her pregnancy, and she couldn't wait for the new quadruplets to be born.

As days turned into weeks, the transformed family started realizing that Morgan's revelation wasn't entirely accurate.  As the former mother excitedly detailed every development on her new body, the others discovered they weren't actually going through the same changes.  Liam felt like his body wasn't solid, and something was growing inside him while he was confined in a fleshy sack.  Ray felt a slimy liquid contained within him, and he himself was slowly expanding, pushing other things around him slightly out of the way.  Finally, Alma felt like she was attached to two different things, wrapped around something else.  She also felt like something was flowing through her, her body feeling more like a flexible tube than anything else.

Morgan realized exactly what everyone else had turned into, but she decided not to tell them, especially not wanting to send Alma the umbilical cord into a panic.  Liam had turned into the amniotic fluid she was floating in, and Ray was the very uterus they were confined to.  She had quickly figured out what each of their futures had in store for them, and she didn't want to deal with the fallout of revealing that information.  She simply stayed quiet as her former family chattered around her.

It was hard for the transformed family to tell the passing of time, with only the occasional utterances of the woman they were inside of to help.  It was after the woman's four month checkup that an interesting development came about.  Morgan had felt the unfamiliar appendage beginning to grow between her developing legs, but the doctor's muffled voice confirmed her suspicion.  "You're going to have a boy!" he said, which also cemented in the others' minds the fact that they weren't in the same boat as the former mother.  The woman was only going to have one baby, not four.

Within the woman's uterus, Morgan felt her former daughter's long, winding body wrap around her left leg.  Alma was the tube that fed the borrowed nutrients from the future mother to the male fetus that was once a mother itself, and she was beginning to figure out what she was.  The girl didn't know the word for it, but she had seen pictures in one of her mother's books before.  The fact that she couldn't feel arms or legs finally made sense to her, not that it was any comfort to her.

Ray hadn't quite figured out his form yet, but he knew he was one of the woman's organs.  He felt the other organs around him be pushed out of the way by his ever-expanding body, yet he was just a bit too dense to put the pieces together.  The transformed teen was certainly annoyed at the movement of the liquid inside him.

Speaking of which, Liam knew exactly what he was.  The movement of the humanoid shape inside him meant he was nothing but a bunch of amniotic fluid, and the knowledge of what would eventually happen to him was terrifying.  He was a liquid now, and once the barrier keeping him contained was broken...  He would've shuddered at the thought if he had retained the ability.

Morgan continued developing, the nutrients provided by her daughter-turned-umbilical cord contributing to her growth.  The uterus that was once her son began stretching even more in response to her growing body approaching it's size, and she heard Ray's complaints every time she kicked with her legs.  She could hear her future mother's happiness every time she felt another kick, so she made sure to do it fairly often, much to Ray's chagrin.  Alma felt herself wrapping around different parts of the baby's body, having figured out that the fetus was her mother.

The most interesting development for Liam, Ray and Alma was the introduction of light.  It was dim, being filtered through several layers of skin and other tissues, but it was a nice change from the constant darkness they had known for the last few months.  They could now vaguely see Morgan's developing body, still upset that she seemed so happy about the situation.

A total of eight months went by.  Ray was stretched pretty much to his limit, simply wishing for relief.  He had figured out he was the woman's uterus, and that he held his entire former family within him.  His father was the annoying slimy liquid, his little sister the weird tube attached to him, and his mother the soon-to-be-born baby boy stretching him thin.  He wasn't exactly happy about the revelation, simply looking forward to the birth so he could shrink to a normal size.

Liam's liquid body had increased in pressure, the growing fetus displacing him more and more as time went on.  He counted himself lucky that none of him had leaked out, but he knew his luck would soon run out.  Above all, he just wished his wife-turned-infant would stop wiggling around, constantly mixing his form around.  His form was confusing to a once-solid human, but he'd honestly take it over what he knew was coming up.

Alma kept supplying her former mother with nutrients from their host, having absolutely no control over the process.  She was annoyed by the sensation of being wrapped around the baby's limbs and torso, but knew she couldn't really do anything about it.  The former girl remained unaware of what her own future would entail, since she didn't know what would happen to a body part like her once the baby she was attached to was born.

All the while, Morgan had instinctively turned her infantile body upside-down, in preparation for her rebirth.  The fact that she would be born as a boy hadn't quite sunk in yet, but she was looking forward to her new life regardless.  She would finally be free from her old family, just like she had wished so many months ago.  Who cared if they hated her by this point?  She was the human now, not them.  The former woman tuned the others out of her mind, eager to meet her new mother.

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Maya was waddling toward the kitchen when it happened.  There was a sudden lurching in her swollen abdomen, and she heard a splash underneath her.  She knew her water had broken, and called out for her husband to rush her to the hospital.  The woman who was about to officially become a mother decided that she would ask her older sister to stop by her house to mop up the mess, and braced herself for the glorious hardship to come.

It was a long night of labor, but it was absolutely worth it as she gazed upon her son's face for the first time.  The umbilical cord was cut, the remaining end forming the little boy's belly button.  Any remaining amniotic fluid was gently washed off the fragile infant's skin, and the newly-named Emmett drifted off to sleep as he was breastfed for the first time.

Morgan felt the fluid around her suddenly drain away, her former husband's unimportant shrieks not bothering her in the slightest.  As she began sliding out of the fleshy sack her son had turned into, and into a tight slimy tube, she knew her new life was about to officially begin.  She heard the screaming of the woman she would soon call her mother, in pain from her own body painfully exiting the larger human's body through the tight canal.

Morgan relished in the feeling of the top of her head poking through, the cool air signaling her entry into the world.  The tube that was once her daughter was dragged along with her, and what remained of her former husband helped lubricate the tunnel as she continued being pushed through.

She soon left her former son completely behind, and her feet were finally pulled out of her new mother's vagina.  The doctor's utterance of "It's a boy!  What's his name?" reminded her that she should leave her feminine pronouns behind, in preparation for a new life growing up as a boy.

"His name is Emmett," his new mother replied with relief, and the adult mind inside the tiny newborn left his old identity behind for good.  He could vaguely feel his umbilical cord being tied and cut, a small shriek being one of the last reminders of his old life for the time being.

Emmett felt the soft cloth wiping off the remnants of his former husband.  He was passed into the warm, comforting arms of his mother, and felt the large nipple brush against his lips.  The newborn opened his mouth, and instinct took over as he suckled the warm milk from his mother's breast.  He was vaguely aware of the soft whimpering coming from his abdomen, but he chose to completely ignore the former girl, unable to speak through his mind anymore anyway.  With that, the boy drifted off to sleep in his new mother's arms.

Liam felt a barrier give way, then screamed in panic as a large portion of his liquid body drained from the area, splashing on the hardwood floor below.  His vision was now split into two areas, the puddle on the floor and the portion that still remained inside.  Focusing more on the portion outside, he looked up at the woman that had unknowingly played host to his family for the past eight months.  She was wearing a loose dress with nothing underneath, making him realize he was lucky to not have part of him stuck as a stain on a pair of panties.  The woman looked down at him with a mixture of disgust and excitement, then called for her husband.

She finally stepped away from the man-turned-puddle, and Liam got an even better look.  The bulging stomach that contained the rest of him - as well as his family - was attached to an otherwise fit-looking young lady, her honey-blonde hair hanging perfectly straight from her head.  That was all he could gather as the woman and her husband rushed out of the house, leaving his pathetic puddle body sitting on the floor.

After a long wait of absolutely nothing happening in the house, Liam decided to focus on the part of himself still inside the woman.  He was mostly a thin layer of amniotic fluid coating the infant boy that used to be his wife, and she was being squeezed through the woman's vaginal canal.  Annoyed that his current purpose was only to make the baby's passage a bit smoother, he soon felt the cold air on the baby's head.

Eventually, the baby had fully exited the new mother, and Liam was left freezing in the cool air.  He could feel every little movement the newly-named Emmett made, but he hadn't thought of what would come next.  He saw the soft cloth approaching, and he realized that it would soon be his temporary home.  The cloth wiped his remaining fluid layer off of the infant, and he felt himself being quickly absorbed into it.  He didn't really want to deal with being washed out of it, so he decided to leave his old family behind and focus on his puddle portion.

He quickly discovered that every part of him was going to be dealt with in different, equally horrifying ways.  With his vision focused entirely on the puddle of slowly drying amniotic fluid, he watched in horror as an unfamiliar woman began pushing a wet mop along the floor.  As the first threads of the mop flicked against his edge, the former man felt a small portion of his body be absorbed into it.  With three more swipes, Liam's puddle body was absorbed entirely into the mop, mixed in with the water and mild soap.  Parts of him were contained within, left in darkness for the time being.

Liam watched as the mop was carried outside, the woman holding it headed for small shed on the property.  It looked like a larger than average yard, and it took a couple minutes of violent shaking and swinging within the mop's threads to reach her destination.  'At least Morgan will have a joyful, pampered second childhood,' he thought to himself bitterly as the head of the mop he was absorbed into was placed into a plastic vice.  He heard water running somewhere above him, and he felt as his liquid body was slowly washed out of the mop.

With a sudden extreme pressure, the plastic vice squeezed hard on the mophead, twisting lightly as the former man was wrung out.  His diluted body hit the bottom of the floor sink with a splatter, then began being pulled toward a drain in the middle.  Liam wanted to get a good last look at the woman, but his vision was too distorted by the water he was mixed into.

His vision distorted even more, pulled into a swirl as his liquid body was washed down the drain.  As he traveled through the pipe system to the sewer that would be his new home, Liam's only thoughts were of his children, trapped as they were in their own new forms.

Ray felt the amniotic fluid that was once his father suddenly drain from his body.  He felt his form begin squeezing rhythmically outside his control, slowly forcing the baby boy contained within out through a tight tube connected to him.  As the infant was pushed out, he was left with an increasing and uncomfortable emptiness, having been filled with fluid and fetus for eight long months.

The former teenager had mostly accepted his new lot in life, realizing there wouldn't be any escape from it anyway.  The baby he once called Mom continued being pushed out of his convulsing body, and he finally felt the tiny feet exit his chamber.  Ray wasn't completely finished contracting, and he found himself mentally apologizing to his screaming host for the pain he was causing her.  After all, he felt the pain even more strongly than she could, and it was absolutely excruciating.

His body finally slowed it's contractions, coming to a stop as he heard the woman name her newborn son.  He could just barely hear the metallic noise of a pair of scissors underneath the sudden screech of pain from the umbilical cord, with a significant portion of his former little sister's body being rapidly pulled back into his chamber.  Ray couldn't hear anything coming from the now-useless tube, so he figured Alma had chosen to focus on the portion of herself still attached to the infant.  He couldn't blame her; if he could, he would choose to exist in the outside world as well.

Days went by, and he felt something inside him begin to loosen.  Ray knew it was the placenta and remains of the umbilical cord getting ready to be expelled from his chamber.  Even more days later, and the last of the signs of his host's pregnancy was finally gone, the shriveled portion of his former sister going with it.  With that, he was left completely alone for the first time since they had been transformed.

Ray would exist in permanent darkness from then on.  Three weeks later, he began contracting again, being forced to give his host her first period since giving birth.  He apologized profusely, even with the knowledge that she couldn't hear him.  In fact, no one would ever hear him again.

Months went by, with a week of painful menstruation contained within each.  After the tell-tale movements of his host and her husband's intimacy, he felt something in particular change within him.  Somehow, Ray instinctively knew he was about to have another child growing within him, but this time he would go through the process alone.  He wasn't looking forward to it, but he knew it was entirely out of his control.  He was just a uterus after all, and would be until the day his host died.

Nine months later, Ray began contracting painfully once again as the soon-to-be-born little girl was forced out of him.

Alma felt her father's liquid body drain out of the area around her, and she started hearing the muffled sound of a woman screaming in pain.  She had a strong idea of what was happening, but wasn't entirely sure until she felt her ropey body being pulled out of her big brother's chamber.  Connected to her former mother as she was, she was dragged along with the baby boy, squeezed between his chest and the tight tube they were being pushed along while still being partially wrapped around the infant's left leg.

She heard the voices and screaming become clearer and clearer, until she finally began exiting the woman, still connected to the new baby's stomach.  Part of her tube body remained inside the new mother, the difference in temperature being deeply uncomfortable for her.  Alma would've been happy to be able to see the outside world again, but not only was the world infinitely larger from her new perspective, she also saw the doctor's gloved hand approaching.

She felt the latex-covered fingers take hold of a portion of her body, right up against the crying baby's stomach.  The doctor then tied that part of her into a tight knot, leaving her in mild pain with the blood flow from the new mother mostly cut off.  Finally, Alma watched in horror as a pair of scissors was lowered toward her, opening  with the blades on either side of her.  She felt the cold metal come into contact with her just above the uncomfortable knot.  With an unbelievably quick motion, the sharp steel blades cruelly sliced through her, severing the connection between baby and mother once and for all.  She shrieked in pain as she felt the larger part of herself be drawn back into the mother's womb.

A cream was applied to her stub of a body, quickly dulling the pain from being cut in two.  Alma's vision was partially obscured by the substance, but it did nothing to hide the knowledge of her new existence.  She may have been turned into an umbilical cord (not that she knew the term), but she would now live as nothing but her mother-turned-baby's bellybutton.  Her consciousness now confined to a tiny divot in the infant boy's abdomen, she would be an unwilling passenger in the newly-named Emmett's life.

Days went by, the girl-turned-bellybutton quickly healing from the process that left her in this pathetic new form.  Alma tried to get her new host's attention, but the infant gave no sign of being able to hear her.  She found herself considering herself lucky the newborn was rarely fully dressed, giving her a decent view of the world, however terrifyingly large it may have been.  She relished in whatever enjoyment she could pull from her new life on the boy's belly, especially the soft baby blue blankets he was regularly wrapped in.

-------------

Years later, Emmett was celebrating his 5th birthday.  He'd had an amazing second childhood, with a large group of friends he met in preschool currently gathered around him.  The boy was eternally grateful to the genie who gave him this new life, and he was looking forward to starting kindergarten at the end of the summer.  For now, he was more focused on opening his presents, eagerly awaiting the next part of the party.  It was mid-July after all, and his parents had decided on a pool party.  Emmett loved the water, and was doing well in his beginner swimming lessons.

His old family largely forgotten, he began tearing into the present from his best friend Cheyenne.  She and her parents had gotten him a cool shirt from his favorite TV show, and he couldn't wait to try it on after the party.  He looked up from the present, seeing his mother occupying his little sister out of the corner of his eye.  Her stomach was bulging more than ever from the twin girls contained within, less than a month from their due date.

Emmett thought of his old family for the first time since he relearned how to talk.  How was Ray the uterus holding up, stretched out twice as much as he had ever been before, while still confined in unending darkness?  What about Liam, his ever-increasingly diluted form circulating through the water cycle?  Not to mention Alma, trapped under his shirt as she was, a miniscule detail of the growing boy's body.

With a shrug, the birthday boy put those thoughts out of his mind for the last time.  He had a new family now, and he wasn't going to let himself be dragged down by the old one.  Oblivious to the heartlessness of that thought, he moved on to the next present, tearing into the wrapping paper with childish excitement.