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.
