Hello guys! I wrote this for a friend recently. Check it out


The first thing I became aware of was the massive choking construction around my chest region. My breasts were twice their normal size and they had this tight harness squeezing the life out of them in such an invasion of my personal space. I wanted to go somewhere and release myself from this bondage but my mind was immediately occupied with bigger problems.

Everyone was staring! I felt like a child who was being punished for some misdeed in the general assembly. My crime was that I was busty with a sizeable, rounded bum to match. I noticed men with mouths agape, boys with their girlfriends pausing mid-sentence, ladies far more attractive than I was going over me with a fine-tooth comb looking for the slightest flaw, pre-adolescents following the gaze of the general public to see this sight that must have been the ninth wonder of the modern world: my figure. My being embarrassed did not help. It seemed like I had been caught in a crime and was betraying guilt by my body language. I had to stop looking like a criminal caught in the act to at least cut the excuses these fools were giving themselves to look at me.
I squared my shoulders and threw them back. I lifted my chin and arched my back slightly. This made my breasts jut out conspicuously and my bum present its argument more assertively. Since I was a criminal, I might as well be a shameless and arrogant one. I returned a few of the gazes directly and some of the more self-conscious males averted their eyes. Oh well, that was easier than expected.

I tried to take my first step and almost tumbled to the sidewalk. I hadn’t noticed I was wearing heels. I could feel the beginnings of strains in my calves, ankles and knees as I tried to step gingerly and quickly across the street to the coffee shop where I’d be able to catch my breath and orient myself. This was like a ticking time bomb. If I did not rest or get home in about 67 minutes my shoes would have to come off or I’d be carried home in someone’s arms.
Motion presented its peculiar problems. Everything was jiggling. Now I understood and accepted the tightness of the bra. At least, the water bags went up and down only and in controlled unison, not flailing left and right like two frisky lambs in an English summer. My bum cheeks struggled to climb on top of each other, each half twin almost winning the fight alternately. I slowed down and began counting my steps. I allowed my muscles take over and my body went into auto pilot mode, throwing curves and body fat in synchronous motion across the street to the coffee shop next to the intersection.

As I sat down, my thoughts came rushing on me like an avalanche. I instinctively reached for my bag in a bid to look busy. Everything in it was strange. It felt like a dream. I had no recollection of the events preceding my present circumstance, and the more I tried to remember how I got here, the harder it became. I had memories, terrible memories. Some of things people had done to me, and some of the things I had done to others. I felt sad I had been used so roughly, and at the same time, the justice system in my mind condemned me of acts worse than the ones I had suffered. I felt so detached it was scary. Surely this wasn’t a dream. In dreams people didn’t…

I saw a red light flashing in my bag. I pulled out the blackberry smartphone and couldn’t unlock it at the first try. I tilted the screen instinctively and observed the other finger stains around the digits 1,4, 8, and 9. 1984. That did not work. I had one last try. 4891. Unlocked! I scrolled quickly through my messages, seeking some information but not knowing what I was looking for.

Then I saw it. My name. In an email. Chibuzor. Could that be a ladies’ name? Moreover, how come my name was in the INBOX and not the SENT ITEMS? This was even more confusing. I sent emails to myself? I went to the sent items folder. I saw what was supposed to be my real name. Vanessa. What was this?! I opened the emails from Chibuzor. My shock was magnified. I sent those mails. I was flirting with her. Joking even. Yes, the iPhone was my device, not the blackberry. How was this…

We had made a deal. Oh dear, it had worked! We had switched bodies. But how?! The only hint I could discern was from veiled references to the “coke mat”. I somehow recognized this as some terrible secret we both shared, some dark research into the books of our overlords in the Amazonian order which we were not supposed to have access to.

I swayed in my seat and had to steady myself by gripping the table just as the waiter walked by my table to attend to another customer. I was not going to have coffee. I needed an stronger drink. Had Vanessa and I really switched bodies?! How?! Why?! Some joke? This was terrible! All of a sudden I became afraid. I felt no guilt. I had no short term memory but I remembered things that had happened ages ago in Vanessa’s life. I hated myself. No, I hated her. Sheesh! I wasn’t even sure who I was anymore! What did we do to get here?! And how was this going to be reversible? I must have been a guy in the Chibuzor state. Yes! I noticed the blatant flirtation and masculine, boastful tone in all my emails. Was I happy to now be a girl forever? And where was my real body?! Was Vanessa also accessing my memories somewhere on the other side of town?

These thoughts came at me like tiger sharks rushing out of the cloudy wall of the deep blue sea. Like the terrified swimmer lost at sea, I wanted to see in all directions at once to look out for the deadly creatures I’d read so much about. Yet I dreaded to actually see everything and confirm my worst fears. I felt the word “fear” trigger a violent upheaval in my mind. And it was connected to something about meeting the real me in person. Apparently something terrible could happen if Vanessa and I met in person with our minds in control of the alternate’s body. I wanted to crawl into a hole and never see the light of the sun ever again. Why was I so terrified by this prospect? Again I didn’t know, and the fact that I didn’t know terrified me even further.

What were my dreams? How many of them were real? What if I was in an actual foreign body which did not belong to me in some of those dreams? “Make it stop!!!” I screamed in my head at the steady rush of constant questions of fear. I was shaking and close to tears. I hadn’t cried in like, forever. But then, maybe Vanessa had in the last one week. I had to pull myself together. There might be some hidden mission to accomplish as a reason for this huge risk Vanessa and I had taken.

I rummaged through the bag again, searching for clues, finding only security key cards and makeup equipment scattered all over their place. My frustration was mounting. It dawned on me that Vanessa and I had not written anything down for fear of being found out. We also had assumed we would remember everything we had done regarding this awful sorcery, not reckoning with the short-term amnesia that we both had to be suffering from right now. I was so far away from all my answers now except the ones that showed me there were no answers.

My thoughts were settling down now. My palms were still sweaty and my heart racing but I felt better. A drink would help. Suddenly a young man with dark features walked into the coffee shop. He was tall, Arabian-looking and out of place in his Italian suit. He made straight for me with both hands in his pockets, yet looking anything but casual. He looked like a probation officer about to scold his ward on parole for some breach of conditions. I caught my breath with several, well-concealed gulps before he got to where I was. As he approached I could sense doors opening in my mind. Apparently he was one of my (Sorry, Vanessa’s) deep-rooted, painful memories. An abusive lover?

“Hello Darling.” He said, as if confirming my unspoken fears. I saw the gold ring on his finger and jumped when I noticed the feminine replica sitting pretty on my own wedding finger for the first time. I nervously took it off instinctively and laid it in the space between us. He took a long look at me and said “I know you want to leave, but I’d have to kill you if I let you do that.” My eyes opened wide. Who was this man who spoke with an indiscernible accent with the fluency of a scholar of the ancient languages? He was my husband. But obviously I knew nothing about him,  and from all indications, neither did Vanessa .
I felt fear rising up from some deep place within me. I was falling into the endless dark pools that were his hypnotising eyes. I looked away. I would not be subdued or paralysed. I would suppress this feeling and collect my thoughts into a well-reasoned argument on why we could not be together. Why I was doing this, I did not know but somehow I sensed Vanessa needed me to do this for her. Then it clicked! I had been planted here by Vanessa to help her with this difficult conversation and once it was over all I had to do was fall asleep and we would exchange consciousnesses by default all over again! The permanency of our memories would not be taken for granted this time. I whipped out my blackberry, asked Hakeem (he nodded without protest so that must have been his name) and dashed off an email to Vanessa cum Chibuzor: “Please write down EVERYTHING on paper for record purposes!”

Three hours ago, Hakeem released me and hailed a cab to take me back home. I’ve been on this ride since then and the driver says we have twenty more miles to go. I’m getting very sleepy but I have to finish this note for your sake Vanessa because when we wake up and read this, we may have no memories of what we both did. I spoke with Hakeem as you requested. I’m afraid I didn’t anticipate his preparation. I’m no longer judgmental of you for staying on with him despite his maltreatment and manipulation of you. I only hope I haven’t put you in a worse situation by the promises I made on your behalf. If so, I’m sorry. I only want you to understand that with Hakeem, your life…

*handwriting scribbles into an illegible scrawl*


Can you complete the story in four words or less?


I love to learn. I love to teach. For me the two are the same.


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: