Thursday, January 5, 2017

Premature Maturation - Part VII

We've reached the climax now, and it's almost over. I'm sorry if you feel I'vedragged this for too long. I swear every scene serves a purpose... at least on my mind, and hopefully it'll all come together properly at the end.

By the way, not that it matters much, but this is the blog's 600th. post.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Saturday – 10:12 pm.

The three of them barely spoke at all during the rest of the trip. They wanted to end this for good, and yet they didn’t feel prepared for what was to come. In all, they all felt they arrived to the rendezvous point much quicker than they would have wished.

Sure enough, there was an ominous couple of black vans parked in the otherwise deserted middle of the road. It was fully dark, except for their headlights and the now-somewhat distant neon lights of Vegas.

David stopped his own car about a couple of yards behind the two expectant vehicles. He didn’t want to make the first move, and he didn’t have to: the side door of one van slid open and three men in dark suits got out, guns out. Then another, squat, yet oddly massive figure also stepped out.

This was Salty himself, no doubt. What he lacked in stature, he had in body fat, and yet he didn’t look ridiculous but quite intimidating. David gulped involuntarily, oblivious to the fact that his two female companions were doing the same. A few seconds passed, then, also in unplanned unison, all three of them got out.

Felicia was holding the bag with the money, but David took it from her arms. He wanted to deal with Salty himself, leaving the girls as distanced as possible.

“So, you managed to pull it off,” Salty said, his voice sounding as dangerous as his looks. “Congratulations. It was time Hubalu found a crew worthy of himself, not idiots like that guy,” he added, looking in direction of the second van.

The children immediately knew that was where they were holding Vincent. Was Joy in there too? If so, they were so close to the end of this nightmare…

“We did alright,” grunted David, trying to sound like a professional and not like a scared kid.

“That you did,” agreed Salty, looking way up to the towering man. He seemed to be studying him, and for the looks of it, he liked what he saw. “We could use a guy like you. You’ve got meat on your bones, but you’re more than that, aren’t you? You’ve got presence. That’s something a lot of people in this business lack nowadays.”

He then looked at Tanya and Felicia, who were standing a few steps away.

“But as I understand it, you were integral to this too. I didn’t know Hubalu was hiring girls now. But they tell me you pulled this job mostly using a woman’s touch, didn’t you?”

He laughed shortly.

“Anyway, I believe our paths will cross again, and I’m sure your talents will be further tested. Then, if you’re as good as you showed today… My offer stands. You don’t have to keep working for such a small-timer as Hubalu. You’ll be welcome to join the big leagues.”

It seemed to David that this flattery was maybe a customary welcome for Salty.

“So, let’s see the money. And we’ll give you back your people, though as I’ve said, Hubalu would do much better without those types.”

Salty made a quick gesture and his men took action so instantly that they looked mind-controlled: as one of them took the bag of money from David’s hand, two others walked towards the second van and extracted a couple of people with sacks over their heads and their wrists bound with a rope.

Tanya wheezed in relief. Even from a distance, and with her face covered, she could recognize the female figure, since she was wearing a jacket that Tanya remembered Joy had purchased at Anancy’s. The man was wearing jeans and a simple tank undershirt. She had no idea how Vincent looked, but that had to be him.

The tension of everyone present then focused on the henchman counting the money on the bag. Then he turned to Salty, declared “It’s all here” and the atmosphere relaxed visibly.

“Okay, let them free,” said the mobster, and the two prisoners were pushed towards David, then they started to walk on their own accord, still bound with the sacks and ropes.

David’s excitement grew, but so did his impatience. Why couldn’t they walk a bit faster? What if something went wrong at the last minute?

And of course, it did.

Suddenly, about a dozen new headlights turned on, a few yards from where their own vehicles stood. Then a magnified voice filled the night air:

“Chris Larson. This is the police. Please do not resist. Walk towards us with your hands to the air.”

The world seemed to stop. Salty looked at David inquisitively.

Fuck, thought David. Chris Larson. That was the name he had given to the cops when they had caught him in the morning. Somehow they had found him.

Salty’s hand started to tremble, his face frowning furiously. David knew the man wanted to kill him then and there.

“Look,” said David, quickly thinking the only way to make the best out of the situation. “They want me. Just me. I’ll turn myself in, then you just carry on. Let the girls go, all of them. I don’t think the cops have seen…”

But then the voice of one of the officers was heard and David knew he had overestimated the cover of darkness:

“Don’t those two people have sacks over their heads?”

Then, a second, horrified voice, yelled loudly.

“Fuck, that’s Salty Bosanno!”

Felicia understood what was going to happen a second before it did. Now that their boss had been identified and caught in the act, there’s was only one way Salty’s men could save him: they opened fire towards the policemen, who responded in kind.

Tanya felt a hand grabbing her neck, and she was forced to the ground by Felicia. A couple of steps in front of her, she saw David doing the same after getting hold of the hostages.

“Take cover!” he yelled to Tanya and his sister, then crawled behind one of the vans.

David was pinned down. Bullets were flying all around him, and he just wanted to cry and call for his mom. But right now, he had to keep his head clear. He wondered why the girls hadn’t arrived yet to where he was covering; they were just behind him… Then he heard the sound of someone coming and he sighed in relief.

But the face that appeared wasn’t Tanya’s or Felicia’s. Salty had run to take cover behind the same van he had picked.

“You fucking pig! You brought them right to me!”

David hadn’t time for this. He punched Salty’s face with all the considerable strength his muscled arms now possessed. Blood immediately sprouted from the man’s nose, but he was too heavy to be knocked out. David knew this was it: Salty produced a gun from the back of his pants and pointed it at his head.

“That’s the best you can do? I boxed for twenty years! I was a champion, I won the-“

But David couldn’t hear exactly what he had won, for Salty suddenly went silent and this time he did fell unconscious face-first to the pavement, a big bloody mess on the back of his head: Tanya had finally arrived and she had hit the mobster with one of her knife-like stiletto heels, probably a first for the ex-boxer. She stood there smirking, pleased with her handiwork.

David could have kissed her, but now wasn’t the time. He knew one of Salty’s men could be the next one to appear; they probably were looking for their boss in the middle of the shootout. So he instead grabbed each of the hostages with one arm and helped them into the van.

“Get in now!” he yelled. “Felicia, leave that!”

For his sister had also emerged, dragging the bag of money behind her.

“Oh, okay”

She dropped it reluctantly and ran towards the van along Tanya. It seemed both the cops and the thugs had noticed what they were doing, because the shooting intensified. In all the confusion, it was Felicia who sat at the driver’s seat instead of David.

Tanya put her hands over her eyes as the van started, heading in the opposite direction of the shootout at full speed. Bullets impacted on the back of the vehicle, but it didn’t stop, nor did it hit any of the passengers.

“We’ve got a good head start. They probably can’t pursue us until they stop shooting each other!” said Felicia, who was actually driving quite expertly. “Where should we go now?”

“Turn left, turn left!” said another male voice.

Vincent’s hood had fallen off in all the chaos, and he seemed to have caught on the fact that these three strangers were on his side, or at least against Salty’s.

“I know a safe way!”

Between her intuition and the specific instructions of a man who knew Nevada’s underbelly, Felicia choose for the later. She did as she was told.

“Wow, Felicia. You’re doing great,” said Tanya impressed, finally looking through her fingers. “You must be really good at video games.”

“What? No, I said David was good at them. I’ve never played one in my life. This is beginner’s luck!”

Tanya felt faint. She closed her eyes again.

“Well, let’s not test that luck further, sis,” said David from the back seat. “Put on your seatbelt like we did.”

“Sorry, I can’t right now, I’m driving!”


“Let’s put it this way… I’m probably the best endowed 11-years-old in the world. A seatbelt isn’t high on my list of comfortable appliances at the moment.”

Vincent probably would have found those words a bit strange, but he wasn’t listening at the moment.

“Stop here!”, he yelled. “Ditch the car!”

He opened the door and threw himself down a hill at the side of the road. The others followed him, Felicia pleased about leaving the wheel.

“Grab Joy!” said Tanya, and David held gently one of the hooded girl’s arms.

They ran for a few minutes behind Vincent and then, inexplicably, they emerged from an alley into a parking lot. They were back to crowded Vegas, but they were mostly alone at the moment. There was just a drunken man on a corner and an amorous couple kissing inside a distant car and not minding them at all.

“Help me out here,” said Vincent, as his hands were still bound.

But the attention of the other three was on his female companion. David was undoing her rope.

“We’ve got you, Joy. We’ll get you back home and we’ll break the spe…”

David interrupted himself mid-sentence. The woman’s face that had emerged when he removed the sack wasn’t Joy’s.

“But…” he was speechless. After all they had gone through… He looked at Felicia and Tanya, who wore an identical expression. It was beyond disappointment. It was sorrow.

“You’re not Joy!” said Felicia, who looked like she could cry.

“Who the hell is Joy?” asked the newly-freed hostage. She was beautiful, but something in her makeup and her behavior betrayed her for what she was: a prostitute.

“Wait, they all told us you were with Joy!” said David looking at Vincent. It was almost like a demand, and the smaller bloke winced.

“Look, man, I don’t know who you are, and I’m grateful for what you just did. But I’ve never heard about any Joy before now…”

“Hold on, but you’re wearing her jacket!” said Tanya aloud, pointing at the woman. “And we found Joy’s cellphone at your place!”

At that, Vincent and the prostitute exchanged a look of understanding.

“Oh, you mean her!”

“Of course her! You picked her up at Matt Frakes’ party!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know who you’re talking about,” said Vincent holding up two conciliatory hands. He had endured enough for the day and seemed scared that David would hit him. “I don’t know where she is.”

“But you took her to your place!” said an indignant Felicia. “And then you practically raped her!”

“What? No, I did not! Okay, I admit I was planning to bring her home, and she was quite willing, but she was too damn drunk! She fell asleep almost as soon she left that party, I swear!”


“I swear, I swear! I had to carry her to the park and I left her on a bench. That’s when I found my pal Wanda here.”

He gestured towards the woman.

“So she’s the one you screwed, not Joy?” asked Felicia, not sure if she felt relieved or not.

“Of course. We go way back, Wanda and me, don’t we? Anyway, Wanda saw me carrying your unconscious friend and…”

“You thought you’d pinch something from her,” added David with a menacing grunt.

“Okay, geez! It’s just a sweater,” said the woman, taking it off. “Here, you can have it back. Anyway, I liked it, but there was nothing of value except for the phone, and I left it back with his junkie friend when those mobsters came and snatched us.”

Tanya turned her back and leaned against an old car. This was it. They were screwed.

“Can’t you tell us where she is, then?” she asked one last time, hope vanishing.

“No, I’m sorry,” said Vincent and he explained where the park where he had left her was. It was unlikely that she was still there after so many hours had passed. “Listen… I’m sorry, but we should skip town, lay down for a while… Salty is going to hit us hard next time he sees any of us.”

They didn’t even say another word as Vincent and Wanda broke the window of one of the cars and stole it after hotwiring it with amazing ease.

The three of them walked silently out of the parking lot and sat defeated on the curb. Felicia was actually weeping as she wrapped her body in the discarded jacked that had belonged to Joy.

“Well, let’s see the positive side… At least Joy wasn’t raped,” said Tanya, tears also crossing her face. David put a comforting arm over her shoulders as he looked at the time. It was simply too late now. Even if they kept searching for Joy and found her, they wouldn’t be able to break the spell in time. It was over.

“I guess we’ll have to get used to being grownups now,” he commented.

“Getting familiar with this overnight won’t be exactly easy…” started Felicia, crying even harder.

“Plus, the cops and the mob are looking for us in these forms. And… we should try to think how to break the news to our families,” continued David. “I’m especially sorry about you, Tanya. Your parents will hate us forever.”

“Yeah, I can imagine it: «Here’s your daughter, and she’s safe. She’s just twice as old as she was last week. Sorry about that»” said Felicia and she laughed briefly, but it turned back into a desperate wailing.

She hiccupped and tried to put herself together.

“Sorry, guys. Do you have a tissue, or something?”

Her companions shook their heads, but they searched for one in their pockets. Felicia also looked for something in Joy’s jacket. She only found one tiny piece of lilac cardboard caught on one of the zippers.

She held it up. She had stopped crying quite suddenly.

Then she said in a slow, composed manner:

“Uhm… guys? I think I might know where Joy is.”


Part 8

Sunday, January 1, 2017

The Confession

Happy New Year! We have something very special for today.

Remember Ageiss? She used to post a lot on this site, and she wrote some of the most popular stories this blog had. Some even have more views than my oldest ones!

Maybe you’ve wondering where she’s gone, since she hasn’t posted a thing for nearly a year. She has retired, and as you know, I’m retiring soon too.

Naturally, this means Ageiss wants to do things properly and she devised this little story as a farewell to all of us.

I’d really recommend you to read this one, for there’s a twist on it that some of you’ll probably want to hear. Also, it’s a metafictional story, and it features an unexpected protagonist: yours truly!

I guess this time you’ll have to leave us a comment. But maybe I delude myself as much as the main character deluded herself within this story.

The Confession: Ageiss' Final Story

by Ageiss

The girl known online as Planet of the AP wasn’t, of course, an actual writer.

She was just, since very young, an enthusiast of age-related transformations. The problem was that not many others were, judging by the lack of genre-specific media. So how was she going to satisfy her thirst for those stories? There was only one way: she had to write them herself.

And that was when she created her Planet moniker, and when she set up this humble website. And though her abilities as a writer weren’t, as she knew, up to it, she had some fun and found a few steady readers. Then, as months passed, she made an interesting discovery thanks to her blog: there were more than enough people interested in age transformations. It just seemed that almost none of them wanted to create content of their own.

“Of course, you dimwit,” Planet told herself. “Not everyone is going to open a blog to write a story. But, hey! What if I share my blog with everyone else? What if I offer my readers to submit their own ideas from time to time?”

And excited about that possibility, Planet devised the Reader’s Entries, convinced that she had finally achieved a way to have other people share their own stories.

But it was soon obvious the readers weren’t as interested. So the easily frustrated Planet impulsively said:

“I wish for another person to post their stories here!”

That was a very reckless thing to do, since she should have learned from her own stories that wishes sometimes come true, and that you should get careful about what you ask for. But how was she to know magic was real outside the stories and that some unidentified force had listened to her plead?

Planet had just had dinner, so she thought she was getting a case of food poisoning when a short but stinging pain hit her stomach. Overwhelmed for half a second, she fell on her knees.

Something decidedly weird was happening to her; that much was clear. Her skin was hot like wax and her bones felt numb. Then the most amazing thing occurred: she was shrinking! She held her hands up. Yes, it was true. All her fingers were becoming a bit shorter, as were her arms, legs, and her torso. Her feet were swimming in shoes that were now a couple of sizes too big, and her shoulders contracted when her back got narrower. Similarly, her chest was losing a bit of mass, and her bra was useless: she hadn’t been so small since her early teen years.

Planet crawled to the nearer mirror, but it wasn’t close enough to reach it. Despite knowing it should be impossible, she couldn’t deny that she was going through a magical transformation. Was it an age transformation? Was she regressing back into a teen or a child?

But, no, she knew it was something else. She caught a glimpse of the hair that fell over her face, but it wasn’t yellow any more. It was darkening and almost looked brown now, and before long it was almost black. She clasped it, noticing that though its length wasn’t changing by much, its texture was. Then she realized she was becoming a completely different person. She was getting slightly slimmer, but her midsection was becoming a tad wider, and the belt she was wearing was too tight for her now, so she undid it with unfamiliar hands.

Her face started to crack and bubble. It was obvious that a lot of radical changes were going on there, and she was certain she wouldn’t recognize her own reflection. Sure enough, once she made it back to her room, she was greeted by a total stranger in the mirror.

The transformation was subduing now, and Planet was able to get back on her feet with some effort. Everything looked enormous around her: she was over a head shorter now, and her sweater loomed baggy over her now petite frame.

Her expression of surprise was recognizable as her own, but her features were all new: the expected brunette hair was paired with darker eyes and freckles over a longer nose. Her eyebrows were a bit wider and her lips fuller, and in all, she thought it was a very cute face. She seemed to have become a girl about her same age, maybe a couple of years younger.

Besides being shorter, her figure had also altered. It was an interesting change from her usual curvy shape, as she was now very skinny, with narrower hips and chest. Her waist was a bit fuller, but still flat, and it went quite well with her current proportions.

Planet started to study her new self in more detail. She discovered all kinds of differences: freckles on her shoulders and her back, a small scar on her ankle… she opened her mouth and found larger teeth and a longer tongue. But nothing of that could match how much different she felt. Every sensation she got was odd, even smells and colors seemed off.

Moving was also difficult and strange, but she managed to walk around slowly. Then, she heard a sound at the door and her -presumably also transformed- heart started beating wildly.

Just her luck that her mother would come visiting just when she wasn’t herself. Planet stood paralyzed there as her mom looked at her without any sign of recognition and greeted her, asking her where her daughter was.

Planet was able to understand her mother’s Portuguese, but not without some difficulty. She had to think a lot to fully comprehend the words spoken in her own maternal language.

Even stranger was when she answered timidly and she realized she had never thought about testing her voice before. It was throatier than her own, not to mention the heavy Spanish accent that came with it.

“Uhm, hello. I’m… Isabel.”

Planet quickly pretended she was one of her own workmates and that she had been sent by herself to find a file she had left home. Her mother saw the unknown girl knew details about her daughter’s work, and she had no trouble believing her. She left afterwards without any suspicion whatsoever.

The transformed girl sighed in relief and immediately took a decision. She couldn’t risk being caught at her home again, so she had to leave for the time being. A hotel would do, and she packed quickly the smaller clothes she owned, which were usually tight on her. She didn’t want to risk getting caught driving her car either, so she left it too. She took her laptop with her, though.

There was a hotel nearby, but nevertheless she had never been in there before. She paid for a room and immediately went for a nap, wondering if everything would be over after some sleep.

But she awoke just a couple of hours later, and she was still the unknown dark-haired girl. She was beginning to accept this was real, and with that acceptance came worry.

What the heck was going on? Who was this person she had become?

She wondered if reality had also changed a bit, like in some of her stories. But no, the name and picture on her ID were still her own. That would make it much more difficult pretending to be “Isabel”.

She wept for a while, but even the sobs coming from her sounded too unfamiliar, so she tried to recover quickly. The crying itself was not very like her. Could she have become more sensitive?

It seemed it could. After all, the changes were beyond her looks. She had already realized her thought process was happening in Spanish. Planet’s memories were mostly intact, but the same couldn’t be said about her personality. She had developed new traits.

For the next days, she had to learn to live as Isabel. She had managed to get sick leave form work, while her family believed she was travelling. Instead, she was very close by, inhabiting a stranger’s body.

The weirdest thing to adjust to was her size. For years now, she had gotten used to being very tall, and even though she was now of average height, she felt tiny. She hadn’t been that short (or that flat) since she was 12, when she was already the biggest girl in the class. Back then, she had felt huge and inadequate, but now she felt fragile like a preteen girl, yet this Isabel body also had to be in its early twenties like her own had been.

Personality traits she couldn’t recognize emerged every day. She had become a bit more worrisome, yet she had a taste for mischief she didn’t really have before. She was slightly girlier, or so it seemed to her, and she enjoyed reading books and watching films that never interested her before.

It was natural, then, that she thought of transformation stories that hadn’t occurred to her before. She had felt the impulse to write them ever since the first day, but she hadn’t wanted to invest time on that while she went through such a bizarre ordeal. Yet, the urge was growing too vast to fight, and twelve days after her change, she decided to give it a try, even though her English was even worse now than when she had been herself.

She decided to start with the simplest story she had thought of, that of a girl whose belt became too tight after transforming into an adult, and which was, of course, inspired by her own experience.

Once the story was finished, she opened the blog and wanted to post it. She could do it under Planet’s username, yet something inside told her to use a new pseudonym, for she really wasn’t Planet any more.

“Well, this way, at least someone else will post a story on the blog,” she thought.

And that’s when it clicked. The wish. That’s what had caused it all! She wanted a new person to write stories in her blog, and she had been turned into that new writer.

She considered many usernames, mostly consisting of variations of the words “Age” and “Isabel”, until Ageiss sounded just right.

And thus I was born.

For I’m Ageiss, yet I’m Planet too.

I instinctively knew this was it. As soon as I posted that first Reader’s Entry, titled “Belt”, I could feel the odd sensation again. I was getting taller, bigger, and my clothes were tight once more. Before long, I was back to my usual blonde self.

I was so glad I cried again, this time with joy, and it felt even weirder to cry as my regular self than when I’d been the touchy Isabel.

I was back to my house, my work, and so very happy to be with my friends and family and being recognized by them. But in the back of my mind, there was an idea growing.

There were all those new stories. New stories I wanted to write without the pressure of being Planet, the blog’s administrator. I wanted to feel freer and less judged, maybe, and try my hand at approach or subjects I never used to tackle as myself. And I almost wished Ageiss could be back.

I also considered that if Ageiss started to post more stories, maybe the Reader’s Entries idea could get livelier, and more people would join and write, inspired by the first participant. This second thought triggered it, I think. Before I knew it, my body was shifting again and I was soon the smaller brunette from Spain whom I had named Isabel.

I discovered I could control it. It took a lot of concentration at first, and I had to spend many an hour in front of the mirror, focused on my intent, but after a while I was able to shift willingly from Planet to Ageiss and back.

I even started using my new form for other reasons than writing, and I enjoyed the freedom of being someone else entirely when I went out on my free times.

But of course, I mostly used it to pen stories. It was soon obvious that the Ageiss charade wasn’t really attracting new writers. A few had started participating on their own accord, like the exceptional BLZBub, but the Reader’s Entries were mostly a big failure.

And yet I had grown fond to keep posting stuff as my alternate persona. I took it far sometimes: I used to shift between Planet and Ageiss just so that they could comment on each other stories. Also, I used to write my Ageiss stories in Spanish, then having Planet translate them for her.

I even discovered I could become other people if I really wanted to, and I wrote a couple of ideas using identities other than Ageiss’. I can’t say I much like it being a burly male, yet I wrote a few stories as one, including the first part of the successful “Special Vitamins” series. And I’ll say this: being a guy, I temporary gained a completely different appreciation of the stories’ pictures than I had as either Planet of Ageiss.

But as you know, Isabel was my favorite form. I became her at least twice a week, yet it was impossible to grow truly used to the transformations, or to being a wholly different woman. The experience felt always new and exciting.

And there was a moment when I started posting more as her than as Planet, and I realized things had gone too far. So I forced myself… to be myself.

It was difficult. I realized I was suffering from withdrawal. Why was that? I like my life as Planet. My family, my job, and I’ve always been pleased with the looks I was born with, so why did I need to be different so badly?

I guess its human nature. You always would jump at the change to escape into a different life for a while. But it’s part of my personality (much more than Isabel’s) to fight against those impulses, and step by step I’ve been completely back to myself. I’ve only stumbled… occasionally.

But without Ageiss’ stories, my current ones would be different. “Premature Maturation”, for instance, would be less bold, and my longer stories wouldn’t exist. It was Ageiss who first started that approach. So I’m glad of my time as her.

I’m sorry if you don’t care at all about this reveal. I felt like I owed you all this confession before I… before we… went away from the blog for good.

So with that purpose, I’ve decided to get back to my Ageiss body once more. I transformed again today for the first time in months. It’s exhilarating. Feels great.

I raise my hands and inspect them, as if I were seeing them for the very first time. So dainty and small. I touch my face welcomingly. I had missed this.

Okay, now to write the confession. How should we start?

Let’s try this:

“The girl known online as Planet of the AP wasn’t, of course, an actual writer…”

PS: While -obviously- my transformation into Ageiss was just symbolic in real life, and sadly not as literal as in this short story, all other facts remain true.