LIFE IN THE PLEASANT BECOMING

Being Pleasanted wasn’t as terrible as she’d always thought it would be. It wasn’t good, but it wasn’t like her skin was burning and tight or her hair felt like a big clown wig. She simply felt as though she was wearing a costume she couldn’t take off.

There were times when she wanted to do one thing, but her body chose to do another. She would find her thoughts clouded and strange; time would jerk and she would find herself in different places and it would be an hour or two later and she would have no idea what she had done in the interim.

She would look in the mirror more than she had ever done, examining herself for any flaws. Gazing at her somehow flawless skin, glossy lips, and shiny hair. She would smile and show her perfect teeth in a perfect smile. Her own beauty was enthralling.

She was enchanted by her own appearance. In love with the sound of her own voice as she talked or sang. Her figure had become more pleasing than ever before and she loved running her hands over the curves of her hips and thighs and breasts. She had never looked so good in her entire her life.

She had spent hundreds of thousands of dollars over her lifetime attempting to make herself beautiful in her own eyes. She’d gotten unnecessary surgeries and put herself through painful and degrading beauty treatments that had never quite given her the results she wanted.

Yet now, after being Pleasanted, she couldn’t find a single bad angle when she looked in the mirror. She looked as beautiful as she’d always dreamed of being. She’d never been happier about her appearance and didn’t want to go back to looking the way she used to be.

Sure, the brainwashing wasn’t something she would have chosen to go through, but in return for her beautiful new self? She could accept it as a fair exchange.

What she didn’t want to put up with was her husband.

Now that she was the perfect version of herself… her husband looked like a hairy goblin creature in comparison. The very sight of him turned her stomach. And the idea of him touching her beautiful body? No way.

Him just looking at her disgusted her. That he thought he was worthy of her in any way?

Killing him was surprisingly easy. He had absolutely no defenses against her, not even the ones he’d had before her Pleasanting. It was as though he was so certain that she would never even consider harming him that he’d dropped all his walls before her.

It made killing him near effortless.

He didn’t even scream before dropping to the floor. There was barely any blood, just a few drops that she wiped up with a paper towel before carrying his body to the suitcase she’d gotten ready and levered him inside.

Before, it would have been near impossible for her to haul around his limp body, but after being Pleasanted her muscles were more efficient. He’d likely planned for her to do all the heavy lifting around the house, never expecting that he would be the first load she’d carry.

She folded him up into the suitcase and zipped it closed. Then she carried the suitcase out through the garage door and put it in the trunk of his car. Then she went back inside and began using his suitcases to pack up his clothes and anything else he would take if he was fleeing his life.

Then she dressed in the clothes she’d prepared and put on a ball cap and sunglasses. Looking in the mirror, she decided that if no one got a close look, she could pass for him.

She gathered up her jewelry and any loose money in the house, but left her important documents in place. They were the sacrifice she was willing to make.

Then she went into the kitchen and used a kitchen knife to cut the back of her arm, well away from any veins or important bits, then began to squeeze blood out, dripping it here and there, splattering it against the walls and floor. Then she used some paper towels and did a bad job cleaning it up, leaving traces under the stove and refrigerator and on the underside of a cabinet. There wasn’t a lot of blood, but there was enough to be suspicious.

She used a prepared bandage and alcohol wipe to treat the cut on her arm. Then she said goodbye to the house and the life she lived and drove away with his dead body in the trunk of his car.

To anyone investigating, it would appear that he had murdered her and fled to points unknown. They would search for him, but they would never find him, because she would have already buried his body in a hole in the desert and burned his car. Then she would be free to make her own life.

Beautiful and free, the way she had always wanted to be, but had never managed.

Because of morals and ethics and expectations put on her by other people and herself.

But now she was Pleasant. And everything felt good and right.

=END=

~Harper Kingsley

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IN THE LAND OF GIANTS

The language barrier was thick. He’d always thought that immersing in a language would cause some kind of miraculous learning switch to be activated, but that must have been something fed to him by cartoons because it had been nearly 6 months and he was still as useless as he’d always been.

He’d learned the words for a few simple things–door, light, hello, goodbye, please–but he hadn’t learned nearly enough to hold a conversation. And reading the language? It was utterly hopeless.

He knew that his captors had purposefully kept him isolated so he couldn’t seek out help. His native language wasn’t widely known so even if he had escaped no one would understand him.

And now, with the microchip, he would be brought back. Because he wasn’t considered a person here. He was a pet, and a pet was property.

The door slid open and his "owner" came in with what he’d learned to recognize as a smile. "BooBoo, Blah blah so pretty blah blah. Want a treat? Yeah blah blah."

As he’d been taught to do, he ran across the thickly carpeted floor to stop in front of his owner. He knelt down with his neck bent back to gaze up into that giant furry face. "Please?" he said.

His owner brought a small, hard "treat" to his mouth and he accepted it, nibbling it from that big, fur covered hand.

The last time he had rejected too many treats and refused to eat the slop meant to be his food, he’d found himself in what could only be described as a vet’s office. His various orifices had been probed and nearly his entire body had been thoroughly handled. It wasn’t an experience he ever wanted repeated.

Being the favored pet of an alien had never been anything he’d expected to happen to him, yet here he was.

He didn’t struggle as he was picked up and cradled against a massive chest. Hot breath washed over him and he refrained from cringing away. Fingers dug into his belly and into his armpits and into the creases of his legs. His back was stroked and the nape of his neck was lightly scratched, or what the creature thought was light, but that was really a bit too rough for a species without fur.

He let himself be carried to his owner’s bed where he was cuddled and teased by a dangly string toy. Let himself be fed and played with as a beloved pet.

Then he settled down off to one side as his owner used an alien computer and finished whatever kind of work it did. The aliens seemed to have more color cones in their eyes as there wasn’t much he could see on the screen. Faint blurs and squiggles that lacked real detail.

He curled up on the hard bed and wished he could go home. But even if he managed to get out, there was no way for him to get back to Earth.

He had no money. He didn’t speak the language. He was recognized as a pet. And he didn’t even know where Earth was or how far away it was.

At least if he kept his owner happy, he was fed and well taken care of. He wasn’t beaten and abused, not like some people had treated their dogs and cats back on Earth. He’d never been put in a blender or had his limbs broken, so that was something.

He closed his eyes and forced himself to go to sleep. Hoping that he would have sweet dreams of home. That he would see the faces of his friends and family. That he would wake up and find out that the last year had been nothing but a dream and he could have his life again.

=END=

~Harper Kingsley

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SILLY SAM AND THE MYSTERIOUS PILLS

Dan always had the best drugs. It was pretty much what he was known for. He always had the best stuff, and a lot of it. Enough that he never noticed when Sam pocketed a few things here and there.

It didn’t even feel like stealing. Dan had so much. If he didn’t notice anything was gone, didn’t that mean he didn’t care? Who could blame Sam for taking a little bit?

There was an unlabeled glass bottle of pills on the counter next to Dan’s car keys. Sam didn’t hesitate to shake a handful into a sandwich bag and tuck it away in his pocket. He put the bottle back exactly where it had been and thought it looked untouched.

He went to the fridge and took one of the wrapped sandwiches from Dan’s shelf. The guy always bought so many. He never noticed when one or two went missing.

Sam went into his room and unwrapped the sandwich and took a bite. Beef and cheddar, yum.

He used his computer to try and look up what the pills were. They were small white pills with a "D" on one side and an "F" on the other. He was surprised when the pill identifier came back with no results.

"Huh. Maybe they’re some new synthetic," he said, then shrugged and popped two in his mouth, swallowing them with a mouthful of coffee.

He finished the sandwich and lay on his bed, waiting for the pills to kick in.

And waited.

And waited.

But he didn’t feel anything.

So he swallowed two more pills, just to see what would happen.

An hour later he realized that nothing was going to happen. It made him feel disappointed for his ruined evening.

It looked like Dan didn’t always have the best drugs. It turns out that sometimes he managed to get a bad batch.

What a bummer, he thought, and settled in to sleep for a while.

It was the sounds of movement in the living room that woke him up. He walked out rubbing his stomach. "Hey."

His two roommates looked at him from where they were eating takeout at the dining table. "Hey," Isaiah said, waving his burrito. "There’s food here."

"Cool." Sam went over to the paper bag and pulled out a tinfoil wrapped burrito. "Thanks, man."

"Yeah. It’s all good." Isaiah was always generous. "Oh, dude, we’re going camping this weekend. You want to go?"

"Sure," Sam said. "I’ve gotta take my sleeping bag to get washed. Want me to take yours?"

"Mine’s good," Isaiah said.

"Can you take mine? That would be great," Dan said.

"Leave it next to the front door. I’ll go to the laundromat tomorrow," Sam said. They had their own washer and dryer, but sleeping bags needed the big commercial machines.

"Thanks." Dan finished his burrito and went to throw away his trash and wash his hands. "I bought a bunch of new stuff for our camping trip. I got a magnesium bar and starter, a cookware set, and look," he held up a glass bottle full of white pills, "toothpaste tablets! I saw them online and wanted to try them out."

"Those are toothpaste?" Sam asked, fighting to keep his voice normal.

"Yeah. You chew them and use a wet toothbrush and brush like normal. They’re supposed to save water." Dan sounded excited. "I also got these little soap sheets for washing hands. They’re like little squares of tissue paper. They weigh like nothing in your backpack."

"Wow," Sam said. His stomach churned as he thought about the "pills" he’d swallowed earlier. "Wonder what they’ll come up with next."

=END=

~Harper Kingsley

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