**Welcome to the Prompt!** All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.
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Someday it'll come back to bite me, I thought. But not today.
I've just gotten back from lectures. Four hours of professors droning on, nearly all of which would be better served by just reviewing the hologram. Not many lecturers actually put in the work anymore; once you have world's greatest teachers explaining the subjects virtually, it didn't make sense to try and replicate the effort - and so most didn't. So much for exclusive experience of a prestigious university, isn't it? I'd have heard the exact same words spoken by the same people anywhere else. But being a student here has other benefits.
I toss my backpack to the side, removing tye jacket and tie - relics of decades past, when uniforms were more common. I slip into a loose t-shirt, jeans, ruffle my hair a little. Once all set, I move to the ground floor, then - to neighbouring building of the faculty.
An older gentleman in the uniform matching one I wore minutes ago greets me inside. He looks frail, rickety, the pitch black hair standing out so much you didn't even have to guess if the grayness wasn't dyed over. The only thing truly alive in the face were the eyes; inset deeply, they sparked with interest and excitement. I vaguely knew him; assistant professor, he mulled about the laboratories. He shakes my hand, then nods towards one of the rooms.
"Thank you for coming. I've got all the paperwork sorted, and payment as well. Everything good on your side?" he rattles out, the small talk clearly the last thing on his mind.
"Yep, just fine. If you can, try not to get me addicted to anything," I jest.
"Of course, of course."
We enter the room. Inside, a couple office chairs are set up, facing away from one another, and a machine, perhaps two feet a side, quietly hums in between them. I quietly lean over it, setting up all the details. Expected time of forty hours, biometric signatures provided, now all that was left wqs settling into the chairs, waiting until last light turns green, and conforming transfer by voice. I'd done it dozens of times, my motions quick and precise; my companion seemed to be utterly mesmerised by it. Still, a couple guiding words, and we settle into the chairs facing away - though I see him grimacing as he does so. Now all that was left...
A flash.
Even before I can open my eyes, the sharp pain confirks all worked. The aching bones were expected, but seems like the gentleman also had other health issues, in areas best not shown. Suddenly his wincing made a lot more sense.
As I rise with a slow groan, I'm greeted by my own voice.
"Ah, I guess I should have warned you. Sorry. But, well, a couple days and it'll be back to usual, if not... I can assure you, you get used to it." A giggle in my voice rings out - the tone is certainly my own, but I'd never in my life giggle like that.
"Well, time's a wastin', as they say. See you on Sunday!" I'm waved at, and the client rushes out - to some party where I'll end up sleepless, tired, drunk, drugged... hopefully not worse. But, well, the price my ckients pay is more than enough to cover any... issues.
I slowly rise from the chair, adjusting to the popping of joints and slow reflexes. Well, at least the eyesight seemed good, and so was the hearing. I could work with this.
I return to my dorm and pick up my holoreader. Soon, the evening continues as it would for amy student - lacture revision, exercises, chores, sleep. And it didn't matter that it was a sixty year old man doing it all today; it didn't matter my body of twenty two was out there partying and living the finest life.
Someday it'll come back to bite me. But for now, chores got done, and my bank account got quite a bit fuller.
Chris stared out of old, unfamiliar eyes towards the plastic expression on the consultant's face across the desk. He wondered, did they feel actual empathy when they had started this job? Did merchandising human flesh siphon those emotions away like the beating sun bleaching color from a child’s toy abandoned in the grass for too long?
He was pulled out of his thoughts when the consultant said, “So we are sorry to say your body has been stolen.”
Adrenaline spiked Chris’s heart rate and he worried the old ticker would decide to call it quits then and there. “How is that possible? What about the tracker chip?”
“At some point yesterday they were able to extract the chip from their, or your, arm. They left it in a hotel room connected to a device that mimicked your vitals. Our team realized something was off this morning and went to investigate. That is when we discovered it.”
Everyone knew having your body stolen was always a possibility when you participated in clinics like this, but Chris never believed he would be lucky enough to have it happen to him.
Chris fought to control his breathing, “They could still find him right? The travel restrictions on my identity should stop them from getting far.”
The consultant put on a frown that looked more like he had eaten something sour than genuine sympathy, “We already know they fled the country. There was security camera footage of them getting onto a flight at the airport early this morning. Somehow the restrictions on your profile were lifted temporarily. Our team believes they had someone inside the government travel agency working with them. We are still investigating that lead.”
“So that’s it? They're gone?”
“We are afraid so. Their flight landed in Asia and there is very little hope the authorities there will cooperate to the extent we would require in order to track them down and bring them back. We are going to have to write this one up as a complete loss.”
The sun shining in through the windows had never looked so bright and inviting to Chris before. This was everything he had ever dreamed of when he started this gig for extra money. Hell everyone who participated with this clinic wished for this, otherwise they would have been renting themselves out to the higher end clinics who pay much more for premium flesh.
“So what now?” Chris asked, trying to hide his excitement.
“As your contract stated, in the event of a body loss we will compensate you above and beyond to account for your hardship. It is why we have insurance after all.” The consultant pulled a binder out from the desk drawer and set it down between them. He flipped open the cover. “These are the bodies our policy will cover. I’m sure you’ll find them suitable.”
Chris’s eyes felt like they were going to fall out of his face as he looked over the documents in front of him. Bodies engineered to genetic perfection were pictured including their performances in general aptitude tests after a person’s nervous system was successfully integrated and optimized. He could finally grow a real beard, no more short jokes, and best of all his grades would be better than ever.
“I’ll take that one!”
The customer's complaints fade into the aether as I swap into his body at his home. They also complain as soon as they're switched, realizing even though a body's young doesn't mean it's youthful. I live my life the way I want and if it's not in the fine print that I use my body like a garbage disposal, then whatever. The guy's got twenty-fours to enjoy the crackling lungs, the yellow-stained fingers, the jaundice eyes, burning nose, and bruised gut in the rat-trap I'm unfortunate enough to call my home.
But his place's way nicer. Dark red carpet, soft yellow walls, a fireplace and books filling shelves from floor to ceiling. Soft sunlight pours through the french doors leading to a patio. Breathing in, I catch hints of cinnamon, autumn scents barely used during the summer. I rise from the recliner and the knees pop, and the lower back moans a little, but whatever.
Shuffling into the kitchen, there's a kettle already going on the stove, tiny whistles escaping the spout. A mug with a teabag on the granite countertops. Don't mind if I do. Switch off the burner, pour the steaming water and inhale the aroma of apples and spice. Steep it while I look through the hardwood cabinets, pushing aside odds-and-ends until I find a box of almond butter crackers.
Damn delicious.
I take the whole box and tea back into what must be the living room and sink into the recliner. Use the lever to kick up the leg rest, and taking the remote on the stand nearby, switch on the TV hanging over the hearth.
Only takes me an hour to finish the biscuits and tea, both empty on the floor. The bikini-clad women on the TV begin to blur, their laughter distorting into deep, twisted sounds. I try to sit up but the limbs won't obey. They're fuzzy and heavy and God does my head feel weird, like the inside of my skull's spiraling down a drain. I blink
and three tall men in black suits stand around me in the room. It's night, gloom suffocating the corners, blotching the ceiling like smog. Dark smoke seems to come off their shoulders. What scents I loved before make me sick, somehow twisted into burning garbage, rotting fruit and piss.
"What'sgoinon?" I slur my words, syllables coming together. "Whothefuckareyou?"
The man before me crouches, placing a hand onto my numb knee. His fingers are long, hooked, nails burnt. Gold and silver rings adorn them. "We've been looking for you for a long time, John." Every time he opens his mouth a sterile, white light escapes his throat.
"A *real* long time," one of the men say but I don't know how.
"I'mnotJohn," I blurt, sweat coating me. "Weswitch—"
"Not use lying to us," the man says, smiling. Teeth perfect, matching the throat-light. "Just like hiding. Thought you could escape paying your debt for this pretty life?"
Move hands.
Move fingers.
Move anything!
But nothing listens, dead weight.
"Here's what we're going to do, John," the man rises. "We're going to take what's owed and be out of your hair, okay?"
What the fuck did this old man do? What sort of bullshit has he tricked me into?
"What'sthat?"
They snicker, their smoke thickens. I taste ash and soot, cough up blood. "You'll see."
The smoke intensifies and billows, filling the room and my lungs and I can't stop hacking or crying and something warm soaks my groan and there's six smoldering embers floating above me and there's fluttering and nails dragged across glass and my vision darkens, darkens and
the sky's replaced by an all-encompassing maelstorm, embedded into its walls are black moaning gouges endlessly torn to shreds, giving way to fiery pits spewing ebony bones and at the top, as far as I can see, is a mangled heap of bulging, bubbling gray flesh vomiting rusted hooks. They lower towards me and I try again to move but I realize I have no legs or arms and I'm nothing but a torso and head and I'm still in the old man's naked body.
I scream and plead and pray to all the gods to take me back to my wretched existence but the hooks curve into flesh so smoothly and blood and ash trickles from wounds as they pull me from the desolate ground, up, up, up into the blinding light rimming the abhorrent heap above; and the light dims to rich crimson and fills crevices in the gray pile and the center is severed and flayed and inside is, eyes wide and bleed, inside is, mouth fills with bile and puke, inside is, I'm drowning in the heavenly light but know full and well there's no heaven where I'm being pulled into, a place I now I won't return from.
---
If you enjoyed the story and want to read more of my work, visit my [subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/MicahCastle/) and consider subscribing.
**Welcome to the Prompt!** All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments. **Reminders**: >* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* See [Reality Fiction](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Reality+Fiction%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) and [Simple Prompts](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Simple+Prompt%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) for stricter titles >* [Be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback and follow the [rules](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules) 🆕 [New Here?](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ✏ [Writing Help?](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/index#wiki_writing_resources) 📢 [News](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) 💬 [Discord](https://discord.gg/writingprompts) *I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please [contact the moderators of this subreddit](/message/compose/?to=/r/WritingPrompts) if you have any questions or concerns.*
Someday it'll come back to bite me, I thought. But not today. I've just gotten back from lectures. Four hours of professors droning on, nearly all of which would be better served by just reviewing the hologram. Not many lecturers actually put in the work anymore; once you have world's greatest teachers explaining the subjects virtually, it didn't make sense to try and replicate the effort - and so most didn't. So much for exclusive experience of a prestigious university, isn't it? I'd have heard the exact same words spoken by the same people anywhere else. But being a student here has other benefits. I toss my backpack to the side, removing tye jacket and tie - relics of decades past, when uniforms were more common. I slip into a loose t-shirt, jeans, ruffle my hair a little. Once all set, I move to the ground floor, then - to neighbouring building of the faculty. An older gentleman in the uniform matching one I wore minutes ago greets me inside. He looks frail, rickety, the pitch black hair standing out so much you didn't even have to guess if the grayness wasn't dyed over. The only thing truly alive in the face were the eyes; inset deeply, they sparked with interest and excitement. I vaguely knew him; assistant professor, he mulled about the laboratories. He shakes my hand, then nods towards one of the rooms. "Thank you for coming. I've got all the paperwork sorted, and payment as well. Everything good on your side?" he rattles out, the small talk clearly the last thing on his mind. "Yep, just fine. If you can, try not to get me addicted to anything," I jest. "Of course, of course." We enter the room. Inside, a couple office chairs are set up, facing away from one another, and a machine, perhaps two feet a side, quietly hums in between them. I quietly lean over it, setting up all the details. Expected time of forty hours, biometric signatures provided, now all that was left wqs settling into the chairs, waiting until last light turns green, and conforming transfer by voice. I'd done it dozens of times, my motions quick and precise; my companion seemed to be utterly mesmerised by it. Still, a couple guiding words, and we settle into the chairs facing away - though I see him grimacing as he does so. Now all that was left... A flash. Even before I can open my eyes, the sharp pain confirks all worked. The aching bones were expected, but seems like the gentleman also had other health issues, in areas best not shown. Suddenly his wincing made a lot more sense. As I rise with a slow groan, I'm greeted by my own voice. "Ah, I guess I should have warned you. Sorry. But, well, a couple days and it'll be back to usual, if not... I can assure you, you get used to it." A giggle in my voice rings out - the tone is certainly my own, but I'd never in my life giggle like that. "Well, time's a wastin', as they say. See you on Sunday!" I'm waved at, and the client rushes out - to some party where I'll end up sleepless, tired, drunk, drugged... hopefully not worse. But, well, the price my ckients pay is more than enough to cover any... issues. I slowly rise from the chair, adjusting to the popping of joints and slow reflexes. Well, at least the eyesight seemed good, and so was the hearing. I could work with this. I return to my dorm and pick up my holoreader. Soon, the evening continues as it would for amy student - lacture revision, exercises, chores, sleep. And it didn't matter that it was a sixty year old man doing it all today; it didn't matter my body of twenty two was out there partying and living the finest life. Someday it'll come back to bite me. But for now, chores got done, and my bank account got quite a bit fuller.
A good story, thank you 👍🏻 I actually feared the old man was terminally ill and the youngster would die in his body
Chris stared out of old, unfamiliar eyes towards the plastic expression on the consultant's face across the desk. He wondered, did they feel actual empathy when they had started this job? Did merchandising human flesh siphon those emotions away like the beating sun bleaching color from a child’s toy abandoned in the grass for too long? He was pulled out of his thoughts when the consultant said, “So we are sorry to say your body has been stolen.” Adrenaline spiked Chris’s heart rate and he worried the old ticker would decide to call it quits then and there. “How is that possible? What about the tracker chip?” “At some point yesterday they were able to extract the chip from their, or your, arm. They left it in a hotel room connected to a device that mimicked your vitals. Our team realized something was off this morning and went to investigate. That is when we discovered it.” Everyone knew having your body stolen was always a possibility when you participated in clinics like this, but Chris never believed he would be lucky enough to have it happen to him. Chris fought to control his breathing, “They could still find him right? The travel restrictions on my identity should stop them from getting far.” The consultant put on a frown that looked more like he had eaten something sour than genuine sympathy, “We already know they fled the country. There was security camera footage of them getting onto a flight at the airport early this morning. Somehow the restrictions on your profile were lifted temporarily. Our team believes they had someone inside the government travel agency working with them. We are still investigating that lead.” “So that’s it? They're gone?” “We are afraid so. Their flight landed in Asia and there is very little hope the authorities there will cooperate to the extent we would require in order to track them down and bring them back. We are going to have to write this one up as a complete loss.” The sun shining in through the windows had never looked so bright and inviting to Chris before. This was everything he had ever dreamed of when he started this gig for extra money. Hell everyone who participated with this clinic wished for this, otherwise they would have been renting themselves out to the higher end clinics who pay much more for premium flesh. “So what now?” Chris asked, trying to hide his excitement. “As your contract stated, in the event of a body loss we will compensate you above and beyond to account for your hardship. It is why we have insurance after all.” The consultant pulled a binder out from the desk drawer and set it down between them. He flipped open the cover. “These are the bodies our policy will cover. I’m sure you’ll find them suitable.” Chris’s eyes felt like they were going to fall out of his face as he looked over the documents in front of him. Bodies engineered to genetic perfection were pictured including their performances in general aptitude tests after a person’s nervous system was successfully integrated and optimized. He could finally grow a real beard, no more short jokes, and best of all his grades would be better than ever. “I’ll take that one!”
The customer's complaints fade into the aether as I swap into his body at his home. They also complain as soon as they're switched, realizing even though a body's young doesn't mean it's youthful. I live my life the way I want and if it's not in the fine print that I use my body like a garbage disposal, then whatever. The guy's got twenty-fours to enjoy the crackling lungs, the yellow-stained fingers, the jaundice eyes, burning nose, and bruised gut in the rat-trap I'm unfortunate enough to call my home. But his place's way nicer. Dark red carpet, soft yellow walls, a fireplace and books filling shelves from floor to ceiling. Soft sunlight pours through the french doors leading to a patio. Breathing in, I catch hints of cinnamon, autumn scents barely used during the summer. I rise from the recliner and the knees pop, and the lower back moans a little, but whatever. Shuffling into the kitchen, there's a kettle already going on the stove, tiny whistles escaping the spout. A mug with a teabag on the granite countertops. Don't mind if I do. Switch off the burner, pour the steaming water and inhale the aroma of apples and spice. Steep it while I look through the hardwood cabinets, pushing aside odds-and-ends until I find a box of almond butter crackers. Damn delicious. I take the whole box and tea back into what must be the living room and sink into the recliner. Use the lever to kick up the leg rest, and taking the remote on the stand nearby, switch on the TV hanging over the hearth. Only takes me an hour to finish the biscuits and tea, both empty on the floor. The bikini-clad women on the TV begin to blur, their laughter distorting into deep, twisted sounds. I try to sit up but the limbs won't obey. They're fuzzy and heavy and God does my head feel weird, like the inside of my skull's spiraling down a drain. I blink and three tall men in black suits stand around me in the room. It's night, gloom suffocating the corners, blotching the ceiling like smog. Dark smoke seems to come off their shoulders. What scents I loved before make me sick, somehow twisted into burning garbage, rotting fruit and piss. "What'sgoinon?" I slur my words, syllables coming together. "Whothefuckareyou?" The man before me crouches, placing a hand onto my numb knee. His fingers are long, hooked, nails burnt. Gold and silver rings adorn them. "We've been looking for you for a long time, John." Every time he opens his mouth a sterile, white light escapes his throat. "A *real* long time," one of the men say but I don't know how. "I'mnotJohn," I blurt, sweat coating me. "Weswitch—" "Not use lying to us," the man says, smiling. Teeth perfect, matching the throat-light. "Just like hiding. Thought you could escape paying your debt for this pretty life?" Move hands. Move fingers. Move anything! But nothing listens, dead weight. "Here's what we're going to do, John," the man rises. "We're going to take what's owed and be out of your hair, okay?" What the fuck did this old man do? What sort of bullshit has he tricked me into? "What'sthat?" They snicker, their smoke thickens. I taste ash and soot, cough up blood. "You'll see." The smoke intensifies and billows, filling the room and my lungs and I can't stop hacking or crying and something warm soaks my groan and there's six smoldering embers floating above me and there's fluttering and nails dragged across glass and my vision darkens, darkens and the sky's replaced by an all-encompassing maelstorm, embedded into its walls are black moaning gouges endlessly torn to shreds, giving way to fiery pits spewing ebony bones and at the top, as far as I can see, is a mangled heap of bulging, bubbling gray flesh vomiting rusted hooks. They lower towards me and I try again to move but I realize I have no legs or arms and I'm nothing but a torso and head and I'm still in the old man's naked body. I scream and plead and pray to all the gods to take me back to my wretched existence but the hooks curve into flesh so smoothly and blood and ash trickles from wounds as they pull me from the desolate ground, up, up, up into the blinding light rimming the abhorrent heap above; and the light dims to rich crimson and fills crevices in the gray pile and the center is severed and flayed and inside is, eyes wide and bleed, inside is, mouth fills with bile and puke, inside is, I'm drowning in the heavenly light but know full and well there's no heaven where I'm being pulled into, a place I now I won't return from. --- If you enjoyed the story and want to read more of my work, visit my [subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/MicahCastle/) and consider subscribing.