Quanta

The waiting room was furnished well enough, considering the circumstances. Despite the man with the cigar’s reassurances, Jeanine did not feel safe in this otherwise sterile facility. She did not remember being abducted, nor did she remember changing into this blue jumpsuit. She couldn’t imagine that she chose it of her own free will. No one so far had had the courtesy to inform her why she was here or what they wanted from her, and the provided coffee and sandwiches answered none of her questions.

“Help me out here,” the man pleaded with her. “What is going on in your life that’s so important? We’re trying to help you.”

Jeanine was hesitant to speak to the man, whose shirt and tie were loud enough to strain her eyes and ears alike. He leered over her expectantly, and she was hesitant to validate his unappealing demeanor.

“I’m doing okay,” she said. “Could be better. I’m not saying anything until you tell me what’s going on.”

“See, our computer says that there’s an 78% chance that we’re here to help you hold onto your credit cards. Does that seem familiar at all?”

Jeanine examined him a moment and shook her head. She didn’t even have a credit card, to her knowledge.

“Now you let me know if you think of something, whatever could be the central problem in your life. My colleague is working your case, and it’s in all of our best interests that we solve whatever crisis you might be experiencing.” He resumed his sideways glance. “You must be so uncomfortable in there, a beautiful woman like you. I got a good look at your body earlier, hubba hubba, if you don’t mind my saying.”

He stood over her, waiting for a response. “Oh,” she said eventually, though she was still bewildered.

“I’m going to confer with my colleague. If you think of anything, please let us know as soon as you can. Otherwise my friend will be trapped in your body forever, and I’m sure you wear it better than he does.”

The door behind him slid into the ceiling, and he turned and waved as it slammed back to the ground. She saw no handle on the door, or any button on the wall. It seemed that he had activated the mechanism with a pocket calculator as gaudy as himself.

As she began to examine the walls, she caught a glimpse of herself in the one-way mirror. She seemed so tall, with such a square and rugged jaw. The jumpsuit actually suited her, in an odd way, with this face and this haircut. She tossed her head back and smiled at the flare of her now prominent nose.

As she practiced her masculine poses, she considered the central problem of her life. The opportunity had never presented itself, and she wasn’t certain she would ever be ready for the commitment and the upheaval involved, but as she watched her new face smile in a way her old one never managed, she was able to feel, as she hadn’t been able for years.

“Have you had any ideas on what we might need to help you with?”

She imagined her reflection trapped in her body forever. A terrible fate, indeed.

“It’s probably the credit cards. You should really nail the credit cards.”

#bodies, #feminine, #masculine, #quantum-leap, #time-travel

Dracula

As easy as it would be to conquer humanity, and as much as it needed conquering, Vlad chose to bide his time. As an immortal, he could enslave all creation whenever he wanted. Now all he wanted was red wine.

Some faction of the community sent him gift baskets that they called offerings. Today’s collection contained the typical bries and pinot noirs, which made a nice gesture, but the other bottle, filled with human blood, was almost insulting in its implication. The various small animal corpses were similarly patronizing. He would dispose of them when he had the stomach.

He spread some brie on a communion wafer. The sizzle felt good in his mouth and made the fruitiness of the wine all the more welcome.

“Lord Dracula,” came a voice from beyond the door. “I apologize for entering your domain without permission, but I assumed you would not hear my lowly knock from your exalted tower.”

Vlad waved his hand at the door, and glared at the peasant, who led on a leash a young woman draped in white sheets, tied in white ribbon.

“Your excellency, I hope you received our tribute.”

Vlad tipped his wine glass in answer.

“But we didn’t want you to think we were trying to placate you, my lord. I have brought my eldest daughter for you as a sacrifice, to do with as you see fit.”

“Oh that’s quite all right. I don’t need any sacrifices right now.”

He looked at the girl, and as she heard him, she turned her head away in shame.

Her father looked angry. “I apologize that the sacrifice is inadequate, my lord. Please spare our village!”

Vlad sighed, and with a shrug, stripped her body bare and drained her blood.

“Mm, thank you so much. My favorite.”

#dracula, #fan-fiction-2, #fantasy, #microfiction, #monsters, #politeness, #supernatural

Star Wars

Han Solo took another sip of space whiskey and scanned the room. Work had gotten dry since the empire was disbanded. For a few months, he and Chewy had stayed with Leia, but he couldn’t be on the same planet with either of them anymore. The way she played with that Wookie’s hair, right in front of him. He felt sick thinking about it, or maybe it was the homemade hooch. The empire had much better manufacturing. Say what you want about tyranny, but it makes good business.

“Is this what I fought for?” he said with a smirk. He wasn’t speaking to anyone in particular, but he wanted the girl next to him to hear. She was cute. A few more eyes than he usually went for, but just the right number of tentacles. “Hey beautiful, where you from?” he asked, and she laughed coquettishly from one of her mouths and sneered from another.

These Targol System girls always gave mixed signals. He remembered something Luke had taught him.

“You want to come back to my motel room.”

She slapped him with one of her tentacles, and caressed the mark with another. She wrapped one tentacle around his thigh and another around his neck. “Easy, toots,” he said, but she wasn’t done. She threw him to the floor and dissolved his clothes in her acid secretion. With deliberation, she covered his sore and stinging body in her stickers, chewing softly against him. He wasn’t sure if he was being kissed or eaten, but he was uncomfortable either way.

“Hey, sorry. I didn’t mean to force myself on you,” but he wasn’t and he had and these Targol System girls could tell. They were a race of contradictions, but a race without secrets.

#bar, #embarrassing, #han-solo, #microfiction, #pos, #pua, #puns, #targol