Caption This (21st Oct)

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Seanday Shorts: Strained Friendship, pt2

Read pt1 here

He pulled up the back of the shirt, and waited. "Comm'n bro, jump in, thanks to you I'm running late. Still go to pick up Sam."

With a groan, I pushed into my roommate, and again he grew to my size. He fixed the shirt, and pants. "Need to get some decent clothes, these really don't show off my physique that well," he muttered. I chose to ignore his insult on my choice of clothing.

As he left, he grabbed the keys to my Lexus. "You don't mind, right?" he asked.

"I guess not," I grumbled in his head.

Caption This (14th Oct)

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Demon Moon

Bryan had always been jealous of his big brother Stefan. As seemed to be quite stereotypical, one brother had been blessed with the good looks and body of a model while Bryan was destined to be the brainy skinny nerd of the family. And of course, their parents had given him the cool name as well. Plain old blah Bryan. While the brothers were not that far apart in age, Stefan never let him forget just who was the alpha in the family, which only made Bryan even more despondent.

Stefan had been particularly cruel today, taunting Brian mercilessly when he had caught him trying on some of his clothes.

“Hey twerp! Maybe you should go shopping at babies are us. You probably could find something to fit you there. Leave the real clothes for the real men.” Stefan had left laughing to go meet his buddies. Humiliated once again, Bryan ran to his room to hide away from the world. Still, while he might not have his brother’s good looks, he wasn’t the dumb jock. He had an actual future that he wouldn’t trade for anything.

His cell rang - his only friend Nicholas, or as everyone called him, Nick. Even Nick had a way cooler name. Life just wasn’t fair. Nick was popular, cool, and, like Stefan, a great looking jock. Bryan could never figure out why he had ever chosen Bryan to be his friend. He could tell Nick anything and he wouldn’t get laughed at or teased. Nick stopped the bullies from pounding him into oblivion. He would even take Bryan for rides on his hot motorcycle. Stefan certainly would never think of doing something nice like that.  Somehow Nick always knew when he needed someone to talk to, someone who could always make him feel better. Bryan adored Nick and only wished he had been his brother instead of Stefan.

Seanday Shorts: Strained Friendship, pt1

"Just hurry up," Greg demanded. "I'm seeing Sam in twenty, and I don't want to be late!"

I looked at Greg's back, he'd been trying to beef up, but he just didn’t have the genetics. I on the other hand was just naturally large. I'd trained hard and my efforts had built something I was proud of--much to Greg's annoyance.

He pulled at the shirt he was wearing in disgust; it was one of mine, and way too large for him.

A week ago, he was in a deep depression and I was worried where it might lead. In a moment of stupidity I revealed that I had the ability to get inside people, and I thought I could help him get over his depression.

He didn't believe me of course, but I told him I could give him a body--well, just like mine.

"I wished," he'd muttered. I knew he'd always envied my physique, but my power had nothing to do with my size, it was just hard work. I knew Greg just wanted to be big, without the effort.

I told him to trust me, and let me just show him. He conceded, and I told him to remove his clothes--it didn't phase him, we shared the apartment and see each other naked all the time.

We stood in front of the mirror. As soon as I touched him, I made sure he couldn't struggle by freezing him in place. He watched with eyes wide as I began to push myself into his back, but he started to freak out, shouting and yelling.

Caption This (7th Oct)

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Replay, Chain Letter pt4: A New Year

Taking votes for the next story in the comments.

It was the next morning; Saturday. I vaguely remembered chatting to Brooke's mates on the computer, bitching about being taken off the team. The night ended up surfing his favourite porn sites and jerking off. Through tired eyes I glanced around the room, shirts and sports gear scattered across the floor. My head dropped to the pillow again. An itchy irritation prickled across my face--I rubbed it with the heel of my hand. "Fuck it."

The discomfort intensified, it felt like thousands of hot pin pricks sweeping across my skin. I yelled and ran to the bathroom splashing cold water over my face, I looked up and saw Brooke's reflection. "Good, now I've got your attention," a waspish voice echoed through my head. "You need to understand--your purpose."

"My purpose?" I questioned, rubbing at my eyes. "What do you mean?"

There was a soft chuckle. "You're working for me now--my soul collector."

I choked shaking my head. "What are you, the devil?"

"No, just one of his associates," the voice replied as a prickle etched its way across my face again.

Brooke's face had changed, staring back at me was the mask that I foolishly used yesterday. I wanted out of this forced partnership, I pulled at the edges for the mask desperately trying to free myself. "I can't get it off," I yelled only feeling more pain the harder I tried.

Eventually I surrendered to the fact I was trapped. "Finished?" The voice echoed again. "You are bound by the mask, to fulfil its demands or suffer the consequences. It was in the contract you signed."

"I didn't sign anything," I muttered.

"But you did, yesterday when the previous owner handed you the mask."

I blinked, the long list of names. The short guy I thought was the courier. "Shit!"

Replay, Chain Letter, pt3: The Placeholder

I scratched my ass and paused for a moment looking at the young face in the mirror. I cocked a grin again and raised an eyebrow it felt so right in this guise, young cocky and overconfident.

The strength in this kid seemed boundless; I started to duck and weave shadow boxing with my reflection, it felt natural as if my newly acquired muscles somehow knew what to do.

Picking up the notebook I tapped at the name ‘Alex O’Brian’ wondering if it would be possible to get his memories at a later date, “Of course.” Whispered the voice.

I looked at my reflection again, smiling I rifled through Chapman’s clothes and found a green vest similar to the one the kid was wearing. Quickly I swapped it with the t-shirt; I loved its tightness, and the way it hugged my borrowed body.

Grabbing the notebook and heading out the door, I returned to my own house. Inside I spent a good couple of hours exploring the kids body, it would have been longer but my enjoyment was disturbed by someone ringing that damn doorbell again. To be on the safe side I checked out the window, it was a police officer. Quickly I shifted back to my own identity before opening the door.

Caption This (30th Sep)

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Playing Jax

Stewart began to panic when he wound up at what was obviously a motorcyclists’ hangout after taking a wrong turn on one of his infrequent outside forays. He approached a group of bikers checking out one guy’s new tattoo.

“Uh… excuse me. Hi, I’m lost. Can you please help me?” Stewart tried to hide his nervousness but he sounded more like a shy school boy than a confident young man. The men turned to stare at the intruder. Soon he was surrounded by big burly men who looked like any one of them could snap him in half with their pinkies if they so desired.

They started to taunt the thin lad, pushing him around and generally roughing him up. Stewart had no idea how he was going to get out of this mess. He was ready to accept that he was dead meat when the sea of men parted and a ruggedly handsome man, probably somewhere around ten years older than Stewart and obviously someone of standing in the club, made his way towards him.

“What’s going on?” He demanded as he looked Stewart over.

“We thought he might be a spy for the Feds. Like that guy before.”

“Him? A spy?” A murmur of agreement ran through the group. “Don’t make me laugh. Let him go.” The man commanded sternly. The man holding Stewart immediately let go, Stewart’s shirt now crumpled with specks of red showing on the white fabric. Other than a cut lip and a bloody nose, Stewart was fine and very thankful the man had come along when he did.

“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to come here. I lost my way while walking.”

Without responding, the man grabbed Stewart by the arm, making Stewart wince in pain from his strong grip. Now even more scared and nervous than before he wasn’t at all sure what would happen next. “Come with me.” He roughly commanded as he pulled on Stewart’s arm. He led Stewart into a garage and then into a room with a large table. The man sat down and motioned for Stewart to sit.

Replay, Chain Letter, pt2: There Goes the Neighbourhood

Throwing on some sweat pants and a cotton t-shirt I picked up Chapman's keys and went to leave, but something tugged at my subconscious, and a soft voice in my head told me take the notebook, shrugging I picked it up and left the house.

It had been the first time I'd been inside Chapman's house, even though we'd spoken many times; a big, strong guy kinda dwarfed me a bit and always seem to talk down to me with a 'grin of superiority'. He told me that he'd broken up with his wife soon after he moved in and since then he'd been living alone.

The heavy door swung open after I'd found the right key for the lock. Inside I was a little surprised, not the tidy well presented home I would have expected but a bit of a mess. Discarded workout clothes and a kit bag lay in the hall, in the bigger room there was a huge TV with a couple of takeaway cartons on the table. What looked like a protein drink half finished sat on the floor. In the kitchen the sink was full of unwashed plates and dishes, some cooked chicken still in the pan.

Tentatively approaching the bedroom, I slowly opened the door; the blinds were still closed so I couldn't see much only dark shapes. Flicking on the light surprised me further; It was completely different to the turmoil of the rest of the house, everything was clean, and in its place. A huge double bed with black satin sheets dominated the room, evident that Chapman thought he was a bit of a stud and needed an appropriate stage to impress the fact. There were huge mirrored doors opposite which led to his closet and a personal gym. There were a number of framed pictures on the dresser, mainly of Chapman posing in what looks like some kind of contest.

Replay, Chain Letter, pt1: A Year and a Day

RIIIING, RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!

I turned over and looked at the clock, "6am? What the fuck?" I groaned and turned over.

RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!

"THE FUCK?" it suddenly dawned on me that there was someone at the door. Throwing the sheets off I sat on the bed gathering my thoughts.

RIIIIIIING!

Looking out the window I tried to see who had disturbed my morning sleep but couldn't see anyone. RIIIIIING! "Who the hell is down there?"

A guy stepped back into my view, "Delivery for you sir!"

"Just put it down somewhere. I'll get it later," I groaned.

"No can do sir, needs a signature."

Letting out a groan, I pulled on some discarded shorts and made my way down the stairs. Yanking open the door revealed the culprit: a short stocky guy wearing a blue and red uniform grinned at me. Rolling my eyes, I frowned at him, and his plastic smile dropped a little as he handed me a box about eight inches square.

I was surprised when he unrolled a long sheet of paper, easily a couple of feet long. "Sign here sir." He pointed to a line right at the bottom. There were hundreds of names, and many didn't even appear to be from this country.

He thanked me heartily and shook my hand, and as I pulled away I felt a tingle creeping up my arm. His smile curled into something quite different as he left.

Still a little dazed by the whole experience, I put the package on the table and returned to bed. But as I slept a nightmare of giant, toothed beasts chased me through the darkness of never ending tunnels woke me with a start, and I had the feeling of an icy hand gripping my heart. Groaning, I rolled over and with a thump fell to the floor; then just as suddenly as it appeared the pain was gone.

Making my way to the kitchen, my eyes were drawn to the package. I glanced at the label. The text was blurred, and almost seemed to move. I rubbed my thumb across the label and snapped it away again, for it felt like something had just bitten me. A spot of blood bloomed from my thumb and dropped, hitting the surface of the label where it was absorbed almost instantly. The characters jumped and darted across the label and then pulled into focus; my name, my address. I gingerly turned the box on its side. The return address only had the name of some obscure building in New York, but as soon as I'd read the words they disappeared.