Shout outs go to Akemi, for always being the most confusingly sometimes-a-pain-sometimes-a-genius Eternalae on several planes of existence, and to Duck, for a cute little piece of writing that inspired the method of transformation in this piece. I am writing under time restraints, so its not too thoroughly gone-over; I hope to come back and do that maybe tomorrow.
Otherwise, enjoy your dose of inanima!
A Day For Fate
Freefall, October 19th, 2005
(Kudos to Akemi for the concept, Duck for some inspiration)
I woke up to the graceful thump of my side hitting the floor through a foot of comforters. I coughed, rolled over, and went back to sleep.
That was how I knew today would be a fateful day.
Some hours later, as the sun crept towards its apex and my parents finally gave up on pounding on my bedroom door, I opened a groggy eye to the fifth or sixth scream of my alarm clock. I sat up, wiping sleep from my eyes, tossed the alarm against a wall, and stumbled downstairs.
Hmm. My parents sat reading at the table, and they didn't say anything when I stumbled in. "What'd I do?" I asked from deep in the pantry, scrounging for some poptarts. Before they could begin a tirade, I waved a hand. "It's alright. Coach said no more practices on Saturday."
"It's Tuesday," noted my father icily.
Today would be a fateful day, but today was most certainly not my day.
"Your father and I expect you to be at school for third period, David," said my mother, never looking up from her book. "No note. You have half an hour till lunch break ends."
I ripped open the package, took a bite of my poptart, and savored its sugary taste dissolving into a gooey mess on my tongue. Mmmm...
"Sure," I said. Taking another bite, I waltzed up the stairs and into the bathroom. Opening the mirror, I grabbed a bottle of pills labelled "Mr. Mark Herners", shook two Vicodin into my hand, and swallowed them whole with poptart to wash it all down. Considering how things were shaping up, I needed them more than Dad.
Next I surveyed myself in the mirror. Unwashed brown hair, specially bred to destroy combs? Check. Gritty eyes from staying up late and sleeping later? Check. Three days' stubble? Double check. Still, I wanted to make a good impression today, so I splashed some water on my face.
Perfect. From my room I obtained a mostly-clean "NIN" shirt, some half-stained blue jeans, and Converse shoes with holes through both tops. My ragged backpack and musty books I slung over my shoulder, then headed down the stairs and out the door, taking the last bite of poptart and leaving the wrapper on the table in the entryway.
Fifteen minutes wasted. So far, so good.
My high school was a five minute walk. I managed to make it in eleven. No parole officers harassed me, though, so maybe things were looking up?
With three minutes to go, I stopped to chat to my friends in the parking lot. I swapped three of my perscribed-but-never-taken Adderol for a hydrocodone and a valium, then swung by the geeks' table to trade those for the answers to the quiz in a minute and a half. With thirty seconds to go I passed through the front entrance into the school, surrounded by floods of teenagers racing for class. Fifteen seconds later, I ambled into the stairwell; my class was on the opposite end of the third floor.
The bell rang just as I passed the second floor. One girl hurried past me, books clinched against her chest, without looking back.
Twenty seconds late, I opened the door onto the math level and discovered a deserted hallway, every door shut. A little strange, I thought. But then again the math teachers were real sticklers about being late, and those two Vicodin were dancing their distracting way into my brain. I managed to stretch the hallway to a full minute and three seconds, stopping before Mr. Clark's Calculus III class. My favorite class to be late too; I had the highest average by half of a letter grade.
I twisted the doorknob as hard as I could, anticipating Mr. Clark's hateful glare on the other side.
Instead, I got a walk-in closet, large enough for two dozen girls to hold every outfit and every pair of shoes they owned in the left half alone, which eminated a smell somewhere between mothballs, canned air gone stale, and one of those expensive, nice-smelling laundry detergents.
A smart person would have closed the door, a little weirded out, and moved on. Mr. Vicodin and I, however, decided that what with the tingly tickly goodness running through our muscles, why not explore? I hadn't got the chance to steal a girl's panties since sixth grade. Therefore, curious and abuzz, I stepped through the door.
I'm sure that somewhere, that giant, bloated spider Fate grinned.
The door swung shut behind me, the sound of locks clicking and deadbolts turning reaching my ears, even as a wave of sheer bliss ran up from where my suddenly bare feet hit the plush carpet to the crown of my skull. My eyes rolled back in their sockets as I emitted a soft gasp, barely able to breath. Vaguely I was aware of my knees giving way beneath me, but I was being given a spongebath by Lady Opiate and her six sexy siblings, and everything went black.
------
I woke up to a thumping pain in my chest, like someone had pulled out my pecs and used them to grind flour. My whole body felt fuzzy, disconnected. My arms and legs responded when I told them to move, but they took their time and whatever path they pleased. Finally, I managed to get myself cooperating and sat up on thighs that felt entirely too rounded, too soft for a track star. Opening my eyes, I saw a pink babydoll T-shirt covering two mounds on my chest and sandy blonde hair spilling over my forehead.
Apparently Mr. Vicodin had decided that his job was done, because all I felt was the kind of tremulous disbelief one got when they heard a cherished love one had died. Groping around my crotch, down the zipper of jeans that were way too tight, I simply winced. I was a girl.
After this, I didn't really think tomorrow would be my day either.
"Excuse me!" piped up a squeaky voice from somewhere ahead of me. "I understand that you most likely are shocked, appalled, and possibly aroused by the recent changes to your physical appearance, but it is inconsequential!" I jerked up - the way my breasts jiggled ever so slightly alerted me to a bra around my chest and the reality of my condition - to see a small audiocasette player hovering in the air in front of me.
"However," continued the recording, "due to recent revisions in the Guild of the Keepers' charter thanks to various whimpy, fun-hating liberals, I am obliged to inform you that you have one hour's time to find an exit or else remain here indefinitely in whichever function is deigned most fitting."
"Huh?" Jaw dropped, I twisted around. What was this place? It looked like some kind of a mall, a multileveled stack of shopfronts, each open and with lights on, but there wasn't a person in sight.
The tape began to sputter, shaking. "According to these same revisions, I am obligated to inform you that most of the Caretakers have been deactivated until the end of our session. However, some Caretakers' functions are vital to the health of our guests, and as such could not be deactivated. Interaction with any Caretakers, while unlikely, is viewed as cheating, and shall result in immediate penalty. We of the Guild of the Keepers would like to wish you a good st-s-taaaaYYYy...." Smoke leaked from the edge of the casette as it convulsed back and forth through the air.
"As AAaaas a Fi------" For a second I heard only static. "...hint, the way o000----ttt is the ------ obviou---UUuu---SsSSSSssss...." With a sharp crack, the casette player caught on fire and vanished, leaving me to cough in its wake.
Guild of the Keepers? Remain indefinitely? An obvious out? Maybe if my jiggling chest weren't so distracting, I could concentrate on what the hell was going on instead of how weird it felt to even have breasts! Still, I got to my feet, noticing the pink, inch-thick foam sandals on my toes, and surveyed the landscape.
No, not a mall. Glancing inside one shop -- I steadfastly refused to look at my reflection in the glass -- I saw rows and rows and rows of clothes. The mannequins wore kimono, Chinese dresses, even that orange and blue jumpsuit from Dragonball Z. There was no cash register and no changing rooms. Next door, except for the Asian stock being replaced by children's wear, the layouts were identical. This place wasn't a mall. It was like one giant glass closet!
In the distance the faint trickle of running water reached my ears, alongside the smell of roasting pizza. With that heavenly scent in my nostrils, my stomach gave a loud and sudden protest. Had it been a month since I last ate? I was starved! With no other indications to go on, I started walking in that direction. My hips swayed like a rollercoaster, at least to my male mind, and all the jiggling was quickly beginning to grind on my nerves.
"Beep! Beep!" the watch I hadn't even noticed chirped after a couple more stores and the food still out of sight. I glanced down at it and frowned. It didn't show the time of day or even have any buttons. It said 55:00 and after the second beep ticked down to 54:59.
A shiver ran across my neck and down my spine. This place was definitely not right. Picking up my pace, I cast around for any sign of person or object that could give me a clue.
My watch beeped again before the small food court appeared. One second, I thought this dull hallway would never end. The next, storefronts fell away before a towering, crystalline fountain from which water fell in six separate waterfalls, tables scattered around, and four food shops arranged in a circle. Only one, a Pizza Hut, was active. Pizzas hung steaming on their racks even though not a soul was to be seen. A little sign by the cash register said "Eat your fill! On the house!"
"Yes!" I hissed, running to the counter and piling up several slices. I could down a sixteen inch or two and still have room for more, the way my stomach hurt. It felt like I had a rumbling, empty hole in my abdomen instead of organs. I grabbed a chair and started stuffing my face, only getting up to grab a soda before returning to eat more. Ah, that was the spot! I hadn't realized just how ephemerial I'd been feeling until I got some solid mass in me!
Halfway through my sixth slice, my watch suddenly began to shriek like a banshee, rumbling on my wrist. "45:00!" it warned in great, flashing red letters. "45:00!"
"Oh, shut up!" I snapped, blushing at how high my pitch was even in anger. I would have turned back to the food, but the slice I was holding simply fell right through my hand.
"Holy..." My throat clinched against the desire to vomit as I watched my fingers' color leech away. Then my palm lost it as well, spreading up my wrist and towards my elbow. While I watched, gasping, my fingers just....faded away. I tried to clinch my fist, but none of the muscles responded, not even with numbness. Soon my palm followed suit, and my entire upper right arm evaporated into nothing.
Then I did vomit, falling from my chair and trying to catch myself with a stump of an arm. Hysterical sobs racked my form and I could taste panic swallow me into its embrace. I was vanishing! I was vanishing! I was going to disappear! I was going to die!
"By now you have most likely felt the first side effects of destiny," played a new tape recorder with the same squeaky voice. "Please do not be alarmed, as once they are complete you will no longer worry for your Fate." Someone on the tape smacked the speaker. "Er! That is, you have fourty five minutes to exit the facility. If you do so, the side effects will disappate and your life will be your own. Please have a nice day and enjoy your stay."
Launching to my feet, I grabbed the casette and flung it with all my might against the wall. "I'm gonna die!" I shrieked, hurling obscenities at the casette as it vanished. "Who do you think you people are ?!" No one answered.
Calm down. Calm down. There had to be a way out. The tape had even said so. There must be a way to get back at those vicious little punks for pulling this.
I swallowed against a dry tongue, already hungry again. The pizza didn't even dent the ache of my empty insides anymore. Half of me wanted to curl into a ball and laugh until I disappeared like that tape. I would not give up so easily! Scanning the environment, I hissed in victory. There, down a side hall from the food court, I could see sunlight coming through a set of double doors! The exit!
The watch's beeping spurred me into a dead run. Ignoring my alien gait, I flew past store after store of women's clothing ranging from the cute to the adulterous, the young to the maidenly, and all those silent mannequins that were my only visible witnesses. My ragged breath and the slap of my sandals echoed for a long time.
Two minutes later, I barrelled into the double doors at full speed, and they didn't move an inch. The impact threw me off my feet, and I pushed up off my good arm, madly pressing the bar. "Open! Open! Come on, open up, please!" Through the door, I could see the third floor hallway where I'd wandered into this whole mess. It was packed, everyone moving between classes, but when I banged on the glass not a person responded.
"Well, aren't you beautiful? I'm sure that some little magical princess will look absolutely adorable with you on! Don't worry, there'll be a girl just for you soon."
I spun around, searching for the voice. I could hear it echo at least twice, but where was its source?
"And you, ah, what a wonderful pattern! You're going to make some girl blush in delight to show you off to her Prince Handsome."
It sounded like it was coming from nearby on the second level. Half a second's scan revealed a stairwell to my left, and I bolted up it and out onto the second level, trying to silence my thundering heart to hear better.
"Oh, no, a spec of dirt!" said the voice. Definitely female, sweet and high-pitched sugar like you talked to a dog with. "Let's fix that."
A shadow moved across the window of a store labelled "Magical Girls: Ages 5-12". Into the store I ran, but I jerked to a stop when I saw a young lady with outrageous green hair and glasses in a maid's outfit dusting off a little girl's costume with all the care she could muster. For a moment, she ignored me, concentrating on some work with a glowing silver needle and thread. Then she put the costume back on its rack and smiled at me.
"Ah, hello. You must be a participant." She bowed, tugging her skirt into a curtsey. "However, I am a Caretaker, and as per the rules of this area, we are not permitted to interact yet. Please understand that any attempt to force me to aid you will be cheating, and you will be punished as such." Bowing again, she turned back to the rack.
My watch beeped, and before my eyes my babydoll T-shirt's straps thinned, turning a luxurious black that extended down the breast and wrapped around the top of my breasts. Another black line with small silver beads emerged at the lower strap of my bra, and the area in between softened, soon becoming a rosey pink satin. My shoes vanished, and my pants rolled themselves up my legs and billowed out into a pink satin skirt with black lace trim. Finally, the waistline melded together, leaving me into a modest-cut satin nightie.
"Oh, dear!" said the Caretaker with a degree of regret. "I'm afraid that we won't be interacting after all. My charges are nowhere near that mature!" Once again, she ignored me, snipping a stray thread from a Cardcaptor Sakura outfit I'd seen once.
Growling, I stomped towards her, the blush on my cheeks testament to just how snug the outfit fit. Almost like a second skin, even with a skirt. Opening with a line of fericious obscenities, I grabbed the Caretaker's arm. "Just what are you talking about, and who the hell do you think you are?!"
"Miss, please! No interaction is allowed between --" the Caretaker stuttered, trying to pull away.
I let go of her, stepped after her, and slapped her as hard as I could with my remaining hand. I wanted to beat her to death, but then my watch let out a skull-grinding shriek and began to glow violent red. "Cheater! Cheater!" it beeped accusingly. "Purposeful interaction with a caretaker! Penalty: fifteen minutes! Twenty minutes remaining!"
"Oh, dear. I tried to tell you," sighed the Caretaker, moving on to the next outfit. Her bruised cheek wavered mirage-like before my eyes for a second, then returned to perfect complexion.
Then I began to glow. The first thing to hit my mind was the relief of hunger. Why would I even need to eat food? I'd just stain. Then something worse replaced the hunger, a longing so intense it drove me to my knees. I felt hollow; I felt alone; I felt like a bag being blown before the wind in the desert with no one to mourn its fate. There was something I needed, something that would fix me and make me totally satisfied like I had never known.
Groaning in absolute longing, I tried to get up. The fingers of my left hand pressed against the plush carpet, and wrinkles appeared at my joints. I had to strain myself to keep my fingers from crumpling. It took me a full minute of huffing and puffing to stand up, only to find that the nightie didn't just cling to my chest...it was my chest. All of my skin had turned to satin, even my lips against my tongue. My hair didn't swish around my neck; it had become a pattern etched onto my skin, a memory and nothing more. When I touched my stomach, the nightie gave way slightly before my fingers.
"Oh no!" I whispered, barely managing to catch and hold a clothes rack to remain upright. Gasping, glaring at the Caretaker, I forced out, "How...do...I open...the door?!"
"The door?" For a second she froze, a look of concentration on her face. "Oh! The front door? Why, you just have to know the keyword."
"What's the keyword?!" I nearly screamed, fist crumpling against the clothes rack.
Again she froze, eyes far distant. "The Guild informs me that you are allowed a hint." She listened to nothing, and a second later in that squeaky cassette voice said, "The name of your Keepers shall set you free." A cheesy smile formed on her face. "That will be three minutes! Thank you for participating."
The watch beeped just as well for being made of satin, flashing "15:00" in the boldest lettering yet. My guy folded in on itself, forcing me to exhale a huge breath, and the area underneath the nightie simply vanished. I was a pair of legs, an arm and a half, and a head sticking out of an empty nightie. Almost as if Fate were mocking me, the air conditioning chose that moment to snap on, and a strong gust of frigid air easily pushed me into the rack of clothes. My folds caught several hangers, bringing me down in a heap of fabric.
Some distant part of me noted that every one of the outfits was warm to the touch.
I could barely feel my own weight. The air conditioning rippled the folds of the nightie's back, a sensation somewhat like a backrub but nauseatingly without volume inside. Then the world went dark, and a long second passed before I realized a pair of girl's panties had fallen onto my head. Ripping them off, I wanted to cry, but my eyes wouldn't form moisture anymore.
"Lost Souls Inc." said the tag on back of the panties in elegant cursive.
Like a company name. Like the name of a company brand. Like the name someone gives something they own.
I tore through the clothes, half-mad. Lost Souls Inc! Lost Souls Inc! The tag of every single piece of every single outfit had somewhere on it that name! That was the name of my keeper!
I pushed upright with enough renewed vigor to even resist the air conditioning that made the nightie billow backwards. "I've got it!" I screamed to the world, ignoring the useless Caretaker as she straightened the clothes I had disarrayed. "I've got it!" The air conditioner was a hurricane, forcing me to bend forward and tuck the nightie in with my hand as I struggled for every step, but I grit my teeth and in two minutes made it past the billowing grate. I could jump the railing and be at the door in a minute, and free with eight minutes to spare!
Beep! Beep! Beep!
Oh, god, what now? My legs started to drain of color. My face did the same out of horror. No! Not when I was so close! Gathering myself, I leaped for the railing....and coasted about a foot, coming to a gentle landing without any sensation from my skirt down.
"No no no no nooo!" I shrieked, pounding my right arm stub against the floor. "I'm almost there!" I would never make it over the railing like this, but I couldn't let them win! Using my remaining limb, I grabbed onto the floor tile and began to pull myself to the stairway. Inch by bloody inch, I scratched my way to the steps, using my arm stub to push myself down them. How could my arms burn so much if I didn't even have muscles anymore? If I had tear ducts, I would have wept from the pain of keeping myself rigid.
To the stairs: two minutes. Down the stairs: thirty seconds. Another inch, another foot. To the doorway: two minutes.
Heaving, I threw myself against the door and fell limp, my insides -- as they were -- collapsing into wrinkles, just in time to listen to the beeping of that horrible watch and watch my arms disappear into thin arm.
"Ha!" I screamed, the sound soft and more like passing air than a voice no matter my effort. "You didn't get me! I know the key! I won't become a nightie for you maniacs to put on a rack! I won't!"
"If you know the answer, then say it," said a vexed, squeaky voice. "Don't leave us...." Her voice rose in a cruel, pleasured twist. "...hanging..."
"Fine!" I drew in a deep breath. "The name of my keeper is Lost Souls Inc! Lost Souls Incorporated!"
I waited for the door to open, the wind to sweep me through into the hallway, whole and male and full of life once again.
Nothing happened.
"Actually, my dear..." An outline appeared before me, quickly filling in the silhouette of a shapely young woman in a business suit. Then color came, drawn in by an invisible maker, until a cherry-lipped secretary smiled at me like dinner. "My name is Meredith."
"And I believe your time...is up."
There was no watch to beep in warning, only the satisfated grin of a cat who always won. My efforts for one last one expletive, one last plea, or even one last breath failed. Nothing responded, and as my eyes evaporated everything once more became night.
--------
A cold hangar ran through my straps, keeping me firmly in place while Meredith picked at my satin surface. First, I could feel her, every touch amplified so much that I counted the groves of her fingerprints. Then, I could hear her, humming a perky little song to herself as she worked. Finally, light entered my mind, revealing a three hundred and sixty degree view of the world. I could see Meredith on her stool with a shining silver needle, the door across from her that stood closed, the lights above that showed off every minute detail of my pattern to her discerning eye.
"My, my, you turned out quite appropiately. Plain, yet luxurious. Sexy, but mostly teasing. All surface and nothing underneath."
I felt fuzzy. Somehow being a luxurious nightie was good. No one wore ugly fabric.
I used to be someone, but who? It didn't seem important.
Some of the threads on my skirt were loose. Important! I traced myself down each thread, tightening their wrappings until I was completely satisfied that not a hair could get through such weaving.
Then, as time passed, the concept of satisfaction lost meaning. The touch of a woman dominated my mind. I was used; that was good. When finally the idea of "good" passed, all that remained was the fact of touch.
I touched a hangar. I touched a silver needle working through my folds. I touched a woman's fingertips.
"Mmm...so warm. Like towels just out of the dryer."
Hands touched me, the hangar disappeared. I rocked slightly in the air, suspended by arms. Then I was crumpled, twisted, and against a warm body, swinging lose from a warm bust and rubbing against a stomach.
I touched.
"Ah, a perfect fit! A definite Keeper."
--End--
