Seanday Extra: Europe Bound

I was travelling through Europe, and crossed into Serbia. But instantly felt out of place. Although I was six foot, and 190lbs there was something about these people--particularly those in their early 20s that unsettled me.

I wasn't prepared to move on quickly, I wanted to learn about their culture--like all the other countries I'd passed through on my journey. Making my way through the busy streets, I tried to remain inconspicuous but it was difficult.

Stopping at a grocers, a watched a group of men who seemed to be waiting. After a couple of minutes a minibus arrived, and an older man walked through the small group and tapped a number of them on the shoulder. They in turn got into the minibus. A few moments later it left, I guessed it must be people looking for casual labour.

The remainder of the group started to disperse, and one of the prospective workers headed towards me. He was about twenty, maybe younger and looked a bit shorter than me. He was wearing a hoody, sweatpants with a padded jacket to protect against the harsh weather.

He looked tired, but a strength in his features showed he was a strong, hard worker. As he passed me I grabbed his sleeve, he spun around and scowled at my muttering something in a language I didn't understand. "You speak English?"

"Yes."

"Are you looking for work?" I asked. He nodded. "I'm looking for someone to work for me for a week."

Caption This (30th May)

Saturdays the readers get a chance to write something, use the picture as inspiration or perhaps suggest something for others to write.  Two pictures, but check in the new comments section you can add pictures now so post your own stories/pictures!

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Seanday Shorts: Observe and Report, Pt2

Read Part One Here

I gasped drawing air through Stanchik's lungs--my borrowed body. He had the stamina for another session with Reynolds, but I had a schedule to keep--Britain was waiting. My orders were to take the place of a British agent. S.C.A.R.P., they trusted no-one with their skin-suit technology.

"Ok, enough," I said pushing him away. He fell backward and looked at me.

Reynolds sat on his bed, a grin on his face. "I never guessed you were--"

I cut him off, "I'm not. Just wanted some relief before I left." Reynolds nodded, but I could see he doubted my words.

After cleaning myself up, I pulled on the dress shirt and pants. In the mirror I plucked at the seams, the appearance was important to Stanchik.

"Reynolds, wash my kit. Make sure you put it away--tidy." He collected my discarded fatigues, saying nothing.

---

It was a brisk, confident walk to the officers quarters to meet the developer. Keeping in character I saluted all the officers I passed.

I arrived to find an older man waiting by the jeep. He was in his early forties, with a heavy build--a soldier that had let his physique slip from his hands. I tossed my luggage into the back and he offered a hand. "Richards. Greg Richards," he told me as I shook his hand.

Driving to the airfield, he asked my name. "Seth Stanchik," I replied.

I loaded our luggage into the waiting transporter. Its interior was vast and filled with cargo destined for an American base in Britain.

The crew was small, just four people located towards the front of the aircraft. We sat in some temporary seating among the freight.

As we reached cruise height, Richards leaned forward. "Who do you work for?"

"I work for the president," I replied, drawing it from Stanchik's personality. I never give away my real identity. Richards leaned back and nodded thoughtfully.

An hour into the flight, I could feel my legs tingling--I needed to stretch them. I walked towards the rear of the aircraft running my hand along the covered freight and come across one of the crew. He continued to check a linkage in the floor, I nodded and turned, starting to walk back to Richards.

I heard a noise behind me, and then a striking pain ripped through my head before I fell into darkness. I flinched  inside Stanchik, I tried to move, but I was unable to move. I had no option and pulled myself from the soldier's body.

Caption This (23rd May)

Saturdays the readers get a chance to write something, use the picture as inspiration or perhaps suggest something for others to write.  Two pictures, but check in the new comments section you can add pictures now so post your own stories/pictures!

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Guest Post: Surston Hall

by Anon

Surston Hall Boys Academy had a knack for football. Rain or shine, night or day, the Surston Blue Devils always blew away the competition. It even had a way of bringing out the "best" in it's students. Matt had applied early action to Surston Hall, and got accepted with a full ride scholarship; showing the highest test scores the school had ever seen. The only problem was this: Surston Hall was all the way in Vermont, and poor Matt was worried about leaving his family all the way in Oklahoma. But there was something about Surston Hall that peaked his attention: their sports teams.

When his plane landed in Burlington, Matt was greeted with a private chauffeur and towncar. It took a staggering 2 hours to get to the campus of Surston Hall, just outside the city of St. Johnsbury. When Matt looked out the window, he was amazed by what he saw.

The school was gigantic. Towers and spires, gables and lawns... It was an incredible sight. There was one foreboding aspect of the school: all the students were hot. It seemed as if every sport on earth had a club, and they were all practicing at once. Sexy soccer guys, football jocks, smokin' basketballers, and hot lax bros littered the grounds around the dorms. When Matt pulled up, a huge sense of isolation set in. Matt wasn't by any means unattractive, but he definitely was not the type of guy that would fit in at Surston Hall. He wore only black, he gauged his ears, dyed his hair... It just was a different lifestyle.

The towncar pulled away and ran off into oblivion, and Matt stood on the sidewalk with his bags, not knowing what to do with himself. Pressing through, he gathered all his strength and checked into the school. Walking into the atrium of the main administrative building was like walking into a different time. Giant gothic arches and wrought iron chandeliers gave the main hall a very ominous air. Behind a small, dimly lit desk was a very old woman typing away at a laptop. She looked up somberly, and asked for Matt's papers. He handed them over to the old woman and waited for her to say "Welcome!" or "Nice to meet you!" But, alas, nothing came. She handed him a blue manila folder, with the school emblem on it, and shoo'ed him away with her hands.

Seanday Shorts: Observe and Report, Pt1

It was a new technology, a tool for undercover work--for norms, those who weren't lucky enough to have a 'talent'.

I'd been working for S.C.A.R.P. for the past six years, one of just a handful of agents plucked from the real world to work for the agency.

My next assignment read like a holiday; no danger, no killing, just observation. But even so, being a professional there was no time to relax.

Flipping through the paperwork I familiarised myself with the assignment. S.C.A.R.P. had developed a process for creating skin-suits. A way to copy someone's physical identity--I chuckled, that would upset the shape-shifters. The skinsuits would give the ability for regular operatives to go under cover, relieving the pressure on the team.

I skimmed over the details but stopped when I noticed the skinsuits flaws: they needed operatives of approximately the same build and they didn't give the wearers any memories or skills of the originals. Although there was a note about a neural link to the originals.

A couple of pages on I found the details for my part. It described a partnership with similar agencies in the Britain who would be testing out the suits, and in return they would share their neural technology.

The senior developer was going out to join the small team already setup, and escorted by a soldier who would act as a nontechnical assistant. This was my first hop, British intelligence had no idea the skills S.C.A.R.P. agents had. I was to use this soldier to get into the country undetected, from there I was to engage one of the British agents testing the suits. The brief explained that the agency wanted accurate feedback from the agent, but reading between the lines I knew they didn't trust the British and just wanted their own man on the inside.

I handed the brief back and followed my handler. "That's your man," he told me pointing at a soldier.

He was at a counter, checking in some gear. He wasn't heavy built, but tall and lean. His shirt suggested a sinewy strength of a swimmer. The profile said he was twenty-four; his name was Seth Stanchik.

Caption This (16th May)

Saturdays the readers get a chance to write something, use the picture as inspiration or perhaps suggest something for others to write.  Two pictures, but check in the new comments section you can add pictures now so post your own stories/pictures!

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Sam’s Adventure: Old Friends

Read the prior parts: Sam's Adventure: Sam Remodeled & Sam's Adventure: Time Out

The two old friends were sitting in the park talking on old times and watching a group of young college men playing an impromptu game of touch football.

“Remember when we were that young and energetic?” Derek said as he scratched his beard. “No need for glasses, canes, or all these danged pills they have us taking now.”

“Ah, the good old days,” answered Kurt, slightly amused at watching his friend’s big belly bounce as he talked. “Not a care in the world and all the women thought we were hot.”

Both now in their 80s, they had been through much together, growing up as neighbors in a small town, going to school together, off to war after college, and even being each other’s best men for their weddings.

Kurt shed a tear as he thought back on their wives, both long since passed. “Remember when Sarah and Beth played that prank on us in the gymnasium? Sure got us good that time.” They were continuing their reminiscence when suddenly a football came hurtling towards them, barely missing Kurt.

“Are you both okay? That was a close one. For a first stringer my bro can’t throw a ball for shit.” said the young stud that approached them. He had no shirt on, exposing his exquisitely built torso which only made the two men sigh all the more for their lost youth.

“We used to play ball too, one day long ago.” Derek answered. He couldn’t help but notice the sweat trickle down the kid’s chest and impressive abs. Ah to be that young and built again. Kurt started to stand to throw the ball back to the guy but as soon as he did he was besieged by his arthritis and in agony fell to the ground.

“Are you alright sir?” The young guy rushed over to Kurt, visibly concerned and ignoring the ball. “Can I help you?” The young guy offered Kurt his arm as he bent to assist him up.

“I’ll be okay in a minute. Damn joints don’t work as well as they used to.” He grabbed the arm offered, thankful for the help but his pride slightly wounded at showing his helplessness before the guy. Derek and the stud bumped heads as Derek took Kurt’s other arm to help him stand.

“Sorry again. Hope you are okay mister.” The guy waved back at the two men as he hurried back to his game.

Seanday Swaps: Another Secret

Richard finished showering and towelled himself off when he noticed a mobile on the countertop. He recognised it instantly, it was his sons.

He sighed heavily, James was always leaving stuff around but was rarely parted with his mobile. He picked it up and felt a tingle, and then a spasm raced its away up his arm. He dropped the mobile.

Shaking his head, he finally focused on his reflection. A broad grin drew across his face. Gingerly he reached up and touched the thick heavy pecs that hung from his ample frame. His hands traced their way down his torso feeling the tight abs just below the surface. Turning left and right he studied his physique and sniggered as he flexed a bicep.

He cleared his throat and then spoke, "My name is Richard Mason." He laughed again, "This is totally awesome."

Caption This (9th May)

(2) Quick Start Story in the comments

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The Boost - Part 2

Read the first chapter.

Jay escorted his former boss Henry into the health club like a proud tour guide showing a foreign dignitary around the White House. Henry was awestruck -- not by the building, which was a bit run-down and grungy, at least compared to the slick and sanitary big-name chain gym his wife had bought him a membership to a few years ago (and which he visited a handful of times before deciding he was a lost cause). No, what caught Henry's eye was the clientele. He was practically getting whiplash noticing all of the stunningly well-muscled guys circulating around him. The place was hard-body heaven.

Henry only had a single boosted smoothie the day before, a freebie that Jay had given him at the office, and his response was essentially the same as Jay's after his first one. Henry had become incredibly energetic and productive on the job, his instincts keener and reflexes sharper than he had ever experienced. Even colors and sounds seemed more vivid than usual. This was followed by a wave of overwhelming fatigue that set in with a vengeance around suppertime. All afternoon, the rejuvenated Henry had hoped to surprise his wife Diane with an uncharacteristically vigorous night in the sack, powered by his sudden surge of virility, but he was already snoring on the sofa before Vanna lit up a single letter on "Wheel Of Fortune". Diane dutifully dragged her near-comatose hubby into the bedroom and hooked him up to his sleep apnea machine, where he remained deep in slumber until dawn.

So much for romance.

Caption This (2nd May)

(6) Stories and Quick Starters in the comments

Saturdays the readers get a chance to write something, use the picture as inspiration or perhaps suggest something for others to write.  Two pictures, but check in the new comments section you can add pictures now so post your own stories/pictures!

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