Ok, as DISQUS appears to have removed the voting and replaced with a 'favourites' button I've searched the Interweb and thankfully found a rating widget which allows the person to remain anonymous.
It looks like this, and you can find it at the bottom of each post.
Can you start to use the rating, and visit some of your favourite post from the past and rate those as well.
Any questions, let me know.
So Since Sean is taking his sabbatical, I thought it would be nice to support him and come out of hiding myself and publish a quick Seanday Bonus just for you lucky lot… ENJOY
but first a little comment of my own!
I’ve seen the comments between you (the readers) and Sean. And i have to say i agree with Sean – i think its why I haven’t bothered posting for so long – it feels like there is no support out there. Obviously as writers we communicate and give each other feedback, but its nice to get a third persons prospective. Feedback – even the negative side of it can be constructive. So please give the stories a like or even a comment – we are not easily hurt…
When Katie came to me asking me to punish Jamie for his recent naughtiness with a previous girlfriend she told me that she wanted to punish him without her actually knowing what had been done. She knew I had the ability to trade peoples bodies or make amendments to them so she knew it would be along those lines, however, she didn’t want to know what I would do.
“Jamie, as punishment for your recent crime against Katie I hereby sentence you to 12 months away from your own body and life; You are sentenced to become someone else who’s life is much worse than your own but has done similar crimes.” I told him.
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I was ready.
Mason was an easy catch. He was half asleep when I came across him in the park slouched on a bench. With a concerned look on my face I put an arm around him and pushed a thumb into his neck.
He groaned under his breath, and I knew he was mine. Pulling him to his feet I helped him to the restrooms. He staggered a little and I rested a hand on his stomach and felt his tight abs through his t-shirt.
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“Good boy,” I said, fully enjoying the show that Wyatt was putting on, “Now the right leg.”
He obediently shifted his weight and presented his right leg forward, flexing his powerful quads. Quads that had proven him equally valuable both on the football field and the wrestling mat.
“Now let me see those biceps again,” I encouraged him, “You’ve been working on them, haven’t you?”
“Yeah, Coach” he said, as if he was talking to one of his best friends, “Just like you told me to. Been hittin’ ‘em real hard. Tryin' some new stuff.”
The results of his hard work were apparent. Oh, to be a teenager with a body that was almost instantly responsive to a new workout routine. I smiled to myself as he continued to hold his double biceps pose, twisting and turning under the light to make sure I was getting a complete view of his progress.
“Good boy,” I told him, “You’ve been a very good boy. I think you’re ready now.”
“I am?” he said, with a light of excitement on his face.
A golden tenor voice sang out as I was returning from lunch.
“This one’s for you, wherever you are…” an old Barry Manilow tune back from my college days. I was enfolded in a sudden wave of nostalgia listening to that voice sing. I had seen him on the street corner many times before but never heard him. He was the one they called “Magic Man”. Why “Magic Man”? Perhaps it was the way he could wrap his voice around a song and take you anywhere he chose. Dressed casually, wearing sunglasses and a hat, he was the epitome of a street performer but that voice was pure heaven. And for some reason that song connected to me, called me to him, compelling me to listen to what he had to say.
Even when the song ended I was suspended standing on the street corner. I knew I had to get back to work but something held me in place, an expectation of more yet to come. His voice softly stirred the air as he began “Fly away”… I was hearing the melody but the words were not those I remembered of the song. He sang as though to entice me…
I balled up a wad of paper towels and threw it at the pool of beer on the floor, with a sigh I toed it around and threw it back at Danny. "Asshole," he growled as it caught him square in the face.
Danny handed me another beer. "This is so fucked up," I muttered taking a gulp. "Just how many of these fakes are there?"
"Dunno, at least two I guess."
I looked at my mobile: 17:23. "I'd better go home; the fake-Gordon's picking me up at six." I stuffed the suit that looked like me into the kit bag. "Can you look after this; I don't want to leave it at home." I looked him in the eye, "No fucking about with it ok?"
"Believe me it's the last thing on my mind," he retorted as I left.
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When I pulled into the drive my gut knotted; Gordon's car was already parked outside. As I opened the door, I felt myself tense hearing voices from the kitchen.
"Oh there you are Sean, we were just talking about you," my mom said with a touch of pride in her voice. "Gordon tells me that the coach was really impressed with your wrestling and he's made you co-captain."
I felt my cheeks flush. "Oh yeah, good news huh?"
Mom beamed at the fake Gordon Black and touched his arm. "He's always so modest."
Gordon chuckled at my embarrassment. I sighed knowing Ryan Schuler was trapped and unconscious inside the suit, a pang of guilt cut through me knowing I'd put him there only an hour ago.
I checked the time; I wanted the fake out of the house. "Shouldn't we be going?" I said nodding towards the door.
Gordon tipped his glass. "Oh yeah gotta go, thanks for the juice Mrs. M."
"You're welcome Gordon, you should visit more often." My heart dropped, this fake was perfect. What hurt even more was knowing that for the past two weeks, it was me in that suit, and totally unaware of the whole masquerade while someone else pretended to be me.
I trudged after Gordon, going into the unknown. What was this meeting about? Who would I find there? Would I get discovered?
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The clock in the old town square struck midnight. When I answered what sounded like a desperate knocking on my door, my closest and dearest friend Garrett stumbled in, bleeding profusely from multiple stab wounds. I caught him in my arms as he passed out. I didn’t know what had happened but I knew I had to do something, anything, to save him. I couldn’t call the police or ambulance until I knew what caused his injuries and right now he wouldn’t be telling me. Then an idea struck me.
Lying on my bed was my nemesis, Brad. At 21 he was one of the hottest studs around but was an arrogant jerk to say the least. He was the typical spoiled rich kid whose father owned the firm where Garrett and I worked. He was there learning the business so one day he could take over from daddy. He had made it his special project to annoy me every day just because he could.
I found a serum on the internet that would make a body suit out of anyone. I had lured him over, promising him something beyond his wildest dreams. He had been an easy target. All I had to do was appeal to his very large ego. The serum worked quickly and now his lifeless naked shell was in my bedroom. I had already resigned from work, intending to put the suit on myself but now Garrett needed it more. I could save him if I could get him into the suit.
“Hey man, I hate to be that guy, but you could totally be working out with heavier weights.”
“Huh?” Jared removed his earbuds and turned his head to see a much smaller guy standing beside him.
“I mean, obviously, I’m the last guy who should be giving workout advice,” he stammered, “But look at you. You’re huge.”
“I’m Jared,” he said, extending his hand, “And I’m kind of new at all of this.”
“You’re joking,” the smaller guy laughed, “I’ve seen you in here tons of times before. Not to be weird, but you’ve kind of been an inspiration to me. I mean, I’d love to be your size. Sorry. I’m Mike.”
Jared smiled confidently. On his handsome face, it almost came across as a sneer.
“It’s just, I noticed the past couple of times you’ve been here, you’ve been working out with much lighter weights that usual,” Mike continued, “And not really doing your usual routines. Sorry. That really makes me sound like some sort of a stalker or something. It’s just, like I said, you’ve been kind of an inspiration to me, and maybe this is just part of your training or something? Working out with lighter weights and practicing form? Sorry, I really shouldn’t have said anything.”
Across the parking lot Chris stood confident, shirtless, laughing and pushing around his... brother. Dan wasn't meant to be there, he was going to ruin everything.
Chris spotted me, and his eyes glinted and focused on me--just for a moment--then he turned his attention back to Dan. My gut knotted: he could easily beat me to a pulp, either of them could. It was a risk I had to take.
"Oi," I shouted across the lot. The brothers turned and looked at me with stony faces. "Yeah! You heard me; you're both a pair of fuck-wits."
Chris's eyes turned to fire, and his face creased into murderous anger. "Leave it Chris, he's not worth it," Dan growled under his breath pulling at his brothers shoulder.
"Yeah, it's all for show isn't it. How did you get that place on the football team? Service the coach?" I sneered, "Nah, you'd have to do the whole team, damn you're such a pair of losers."
"You fucker, I'm going to kill you," Chris snarled pulling himself from Dan's grasp. "You'd better start running."
"Forget him," Dan pleaded, but I'd pushed Chris too far, and his face was painted with venomous anger.
