Louis Taylor gets a surprise package, just as his life is about to change forever.

M.A.T.D.A.M.B.
 

by Lainie Lee
 
 

I walked into our old house in Appaloosa at the end of the last day of school carrying my backpack, my gymbag, a canvas tote of stuff from my locker that had not fit into either other bag and the package that had been leaning against the door when I got home. "Hey!" I yelled. No one answered.

The house looked more deserted than usual, Dad and my sisters had already moved out; for the last two weeks Mom and I had lived alone in the old house while I finished up my sophomore year of high school. Deirdre's community college classes and Suzanne's sixth grade had gotten out earlier and they had gone ahead. I missed my sisters a little and my Dad a lot more but now that my school was out, Mom and I would be moving too.

Dad's new job in Greenfields meant we could afford to live on the coast now. The move to the new house excited me a little, but leaving the home I'd grown up in depressed me. I hadn't let anyone see me cry about it, at fifteen I was much too old to get all snuffly about the old neighborhood, my friends or the old house.

But if I were alone where no one could see me, I could get a little choked up and no one else had to know. Mom might not be home for another two or three hours depending on how the party they were throwing for her at work went. Dropping my stuff in the middle of the nearly empty living room, I put the oddly heavy package down on the dining room table, got myself a drink of cold water from the fridge and wandered out back.

The golden light of afternoon made bright pools between the tall, cool, fruit trees lining the back yard and I could see the peaks of the Marathon Range west of town. Day after tomorrow, I'd be looking at them from the other side. I held the glass up and looked at Old Sandy, the nearest mountain, through the lens of water. I'd said goodbye a hundred times already since I'd learned the family would be moving but I said it again with every bit as much feeling as before.

"Goodbye," I whispered. Then I walked slowly around the yard, poking my toe into various heaps of grass and dirt where I and my sisters and friends had played "King of the Woodpile" and "Last Train from Appaloosa" and "Taylors on the Moon." I drank the water, wiped my face and went back inside.

Mom's last day at work would be over soon, she'd come home then we would pack a few things, go have dinner somewhere nice and sleep the last night in the old house. Dad would fly in tomorrow morning, Mom and I would run a few last errands and we'd all be on the road in the van for the trip down Interstate 7 before noon. With luck, we'd get to see the sun set over the Pacific Ocean.

The new house actually was in Pacifico, on the coast northwest of Greenfields, but an easy commute for Dad. It would be kinda cool to live near a big city, I could go see the Shamrocks and Davids play when they were in town, big name rock bands performed in the Richmond Bowl, and there were tons of interesting things to do in the city. Not to mention a whole ocean next door, but I would miss my friends.

I didn't want to cry again so I went back inside and picked up the package on the dining table. It seemed to be addressed to me, though they had misspelled my name. Honestly, how hard can it be to spell Louis Taylor? I didn't remember ordering anything and especially not something so big, a nearly cubical box ten or twelve inches on a side. And heavy, it must weigh fifteen pounds or so.

Some company I'd never heard of on the return address, maybe Mom or Dad had bought me a present? "Huh?" I said out loud. my parents weren't big on surprises, though; if it were a present from one of them, they would have told me to expect something. I ripped off the outer paper and discovered that the package actually consisted of two plain white boxes taped together.

A dinner knife cut the tape holding the boxes together and also separated the flaps holding the lid on one of the boxes. I flipped open the box, expecting--maybe books or walkie-talkies or--well, I wasn't sure exactly what I did expect. Certainly not a five or six pound lump of silly putty, for that was exactly what it looked like.

I laughed. The inside of the box was made of hard white plastic and shaped like a sink. A lump of plastic jelly lay in the depression, pinkish beige, looking like nothing so much as a giant blob of plastic clay. I opened the other box, just to check and sure enough, it contained an identical lump of rubber-looking, flesh-colored whatever-it-was.

Shaking my head, I looked for some kind of instructions or identifying papers. Nothing had any writing on it except the original outer wrapping addressed to 'Lewis Tyler.'

"Makes no sense at all," I muttered. Experimentally, I poked one of the blobs, "Sticky," I noted. So sticky, in fact, that it still clung to my finger, stretching amazingly as I drew my hand back. The sticky tendril seemed to get thicker as I watched, the plastic blob oozing out of its container. I tried to scrape it off against the table, then grabbed the dinner knife in my other hand and tried to remove it that way but the gelatinous clay clung and oozed like some amoebic refugee from a late night movie.

"I'm dreaming?" I wondered. But slamming my hand against the table edge convinced me that my experience was real enough. "Ow!" I yelped.

Somehow, the glob had anchored me to the table too, even while it engulfed my hand and oozed up my arm. And now the second sluginaceous nightmare crawled out of its box and advanced on me. I screamed, thrashing around hard enough to pull the table and both boxes over on top of me banging my head painfully on the floor as I went down.

Dazed, I stared as the two blobs, moving rather more quickly than such sluglike apparitions had any right to do, crawled up my arms and into my shirt.

* * *

I must have passed out for a moment, I decided, 'cause when I came to, I found myself lying on the daybed in the den. I'd been sleeping there for the last week, ever since my own bedroom stuff had been packed and shipped to the coast. My head hurt and my brain felt sort of oatmealy. I sat up suddenly and immediately regretted it.

First, my head started pounding and my eyes almost fell out and rolled around on the floor. Second, something on my chest wobbled and jiggled as I moved. "What the fuck?" I yelped, bringing both hands up to my chest and looking down to see--two enormous pink lumps under my t-shirt.

I almost sighed in relief when I realized they must be the horror-movie plastic monster amoebas from the planet Postal--for a moment there, I thought I had grown breasts. They stretched my black t-shirt all out of shape. I groped the right one, then the left. They felt--like me.

I mean, I could feel them, not just with my hand but with them. "I'm still dreaming," I said out loud. I pulled out the neck of the t-shirt and looked inside at my own private cleavage. "Christ in a pick-up truck," I said.

I don't remember how I got there but next I was standing in front of the bathroom mirror with my t-shirt on the floor. They looked real. Realer than real. Enormously real, and I mean enormous--the two of them together were actually wider than my chest and I could see they went under my arms and partway around to my back. Nice big titties in the world's worst place for nice titties.

I tried to get my fingers under an edge but there were no edges. There was sort of a crease under them in front 'cause they were so big and heavy, they hung there kinda droopy but only a little. I tried to pull on them but that didn't work. In fact, rubbing and pulling on them was having a very strange effect. I watched while two enormous nipples--my nipples!--got big and hard, popping out on my chest from the middle of two dark areas that tipped each impossible breast.

Rubbing them felt good--too good. So I stopped. I felt like I was getting a hard-on and that made me wonder, had anything changed further down? I got my pants down quickly and took a look--though lookingbetween the big mounds was a strange experience. All present and accounted for, sir. Right hand on my male genitalia and left hand on a breast, I recited the old Sesame Street mantra, "One of these things is not like the other, one of these things does not belong." Then I giggled, probably insanely.

Without really thinking about why I would do such a thing, I began rubbing my new parts with both hands. It felt so good, I didn't want to stop. My nipples were hard little pebbles and it occurred to me that my breasts were so big, I could probably get them in my mouth. I tried it, it worked.

That felt so good that pretty soon, I couldn't stand it, so I switched to the other nipple. It kept feeling better and better, and I sank slowly to the bathroom floor. I could hear someone moaning, probably me. My thighs opened, then clenched on my penis and I came so hard I passed out again.

Okay.

I woke up on the bathroom floor feeling enormously satisfied with myself for no good reason. Idly, I played with my nipples before realization sank in. I sat up suddenly, banging my head on the u-shaped pipe trap under the sink. My boobies bounced pleasantly on my chest, too. The conflicting signals of pain, pleasure and just plain weirdness almost caused another blackout.

I hadn't hit my head that hard, so I carefully extricated myself from under the sink. The throbbing in my new breasts bothered me a lot more than the pain in my head. I looked down at them, they didn't seem so outlandishly big as they had before--were they shrinking or was I just getting used to them being there?

I tried very hard not to do what would come naturally to any fifteen-year-old boy--play with an available pair of beautiful tits. I poked, pushed and prodded them a bit more; it felt too good to be good for my sanity. "Dammit, this just isn't happening," I muttered.

Real or not, it felt too good to stop and pretty soon I'd worked myself into a frenzy of rubbing and squeezing and sucking when I thought of it. I couldn't spare a hand for my crotch so, again, I squeezed my thighs together. I squealed like a cheerleader in heat as I came but I didn't pass out again at first. Nor after the second or third crescendo of renewed self-lust--but I lost track around five or nine and finally lost consciousness shortly after.

Okay, this could be habit forming.

I woke up slowly this time, wary of bumping my head again. I looked at my chest and saw with some surprise that the false breasts had almost disappeared. The big nipples and dark-colored skin around them were still there and a definite puffiness under them. I imagined that they looked about the size my twelve year old sister might have. My brain sort of froze up, considering that idea.

But before I could really do much thinking about my situation, nature called and I had to sit down quick or leave a major dump in my pants. Not to get gross about it but I did both number one and number two in a big way and ended up flushing the bowl three times. The odor got pretty intense, too, and I turned on the fan.

I had stood up, contemplating my discarded clothing and realizing that despite the fan the room smelled like dirty gym socks. The sudden urge to toss my cookies made me fill the bowl a fourth time. I didn't actually feel sick, I just had to throw up and quickly. Things kept happening to me, I felt like a character in a really bizarre video game.

When I straightened up, I decided that part of the smell must be me. My skin seemed covered in a wet substance, slimier than sweat. I needed a bath but the downstairs bathroom had no shower. Naked and feeling more than just a little dazed, I wandered into the den looking for some clothes I could take upstairs with me. I grabbed some, practically at random, from the semi-packed suitcase on the floor and went up to my old bathroom, feeling unaccountably eager.

Hot water and soap felt wonderful but I kept getting distracted by--differences. Besides the mini-boobs--and where did the mega-boobs go?--I noticed that my skin felt softer and more sensitive all over. The small amounts of body hair I had been sprouting for the last year or so, including groin and underarms, seemed to have disappeared, too.

I checked. Nothing else had gone missing that I could tell. Relieved, I finished my shower, even washing my hair. I felt very--sensual I guess is the word--but I had no trouble resisting the any urge to play with booblets or other parts. I felt good which was weird, considering.

Drying off, my eyes kept being drawn to the mirror. I'd never before felt so much interest in how I looked. I knew I didn't look the same as I had the day before but I ignored the differences and just enjoyed looking.

I put on the clothes I'd grabbed, briefs, a yellow t-shirt, and a pair of denim baggies. The clothes felt strange as if they belonged to someone else. I combed water out of my hair and continued looking in the mirror.

My image in the mirror looked strange, though I couldn't put my finger on just what the strangeness might be. I tried to feel alarmed about everything that had happened but my reflection kept smiling back at me. Until I noticed the two bumps made by my nipples.

I looked inside the t-shirt. They were still there, as big around as dimes almost; while I watched, they stiffened a bit and got bigger. Uh-oh. I started noticing other things. All of my zits were gone and my face looked softer and less angular somehow. Same for my arms and legs which were also unusually smooth, even my hands and feet.

Other people might not notice some things but chest ornaments on a boy tended to stick out. Stand out. I suppressed a giggle. Why was I concerned about people noticing but not worried about all the changes? I didn't know and even that didn't bother me much.

Feeling a bit dreamy and unreal, I cleaned up the bathroom then wandered downstairs where I found a pair of sandals to wear and a short sleeve, white cotton shirt to wear over the t-shirt. Hanging open, it still covered my nipple bumps. I looked in the mirror downstairs and decided that the resemblance to my sisters was alarming. So--why didn't I feel alarmed?

In fact, I felt a weird sort of satisfaction with myself, as if I had accomplished something I had planned on for some time. "So this is what it's like to be a pod person," I murmured. Then I giggled.

I'd like to say I laughed but it was definitely a giggle. "Oh well," I said aloud and smiled, noticing that I had a really cute smile. Still smiling, I cleaned up the downstairs bathroom and put the dirty clothes in the wash. Mom and I intended to do a load tonight before leaving for Greenfields and the house in Pacifico in the morning.

I found the wrapper and boxes from the package containing the Mutant Alien Titties Done Ate My Brain. I threw all of it away, going so far as to carry the trash out to the big cans beside the garage. But I saved the return address, tearing it off the paper and putting it in my wallet which I put into my backpack instead of my pocket. I wasn't sure why I did that but it might be useful.

The phone rang and it took me a moment to realize it had to be my cell phone since the house phone had already been disconnected. I dug that out of my backpack, knowing from the "Brady Bunch" ring that it was Mom calling. "Hi, Mom," I answered.

"Louis?" she said.

"Who else?" I rolled my eyes; what, she didn't recognize my voice?

"Um. Well, the office manager and the women in the office want to take me out to dinner..." she trailed off.

"Sounds good, Mom. Should I get my own dinner? I've got money," I offered.

"Would you mind, honey?"

"No. It'll give me time to see some of my friends before we go. I can take Deirdre's old bike we're leaving behind down to the Spot."

"Well, okay. I should be home by eight," she said.

"No worries, it doesn't get dark till after nine, Mom. And I'll call you if I need to be picked up."

"All right, dear. Oh, your father called. He's coming in tonight instead of tomorrow. Got a ride with one of the corporate types heading to Boise, they'll be dropping him off at Appaloosa Muni around ten."

"Cool," I said. I had to grin. Dad had hated being separated from Mom for most of the last two weeks and had twice already pulled this trick of getting a plane ride for an overnight visit.

"You be careful," Mom warned before we hung up. "You sound like you might be coming down with something."

"I'm not and I will," I promised. "Wait, stop, reverse that."

Mom laughed and disconnected.

It would be cool to see my friends one last time. I used my cell phone to send a broadcast text to my buddies list, "C U spot 6 2 9 YF lu". I checked the house to be sure nothing was left undone or unlocked then I went out to the sideyard to get Deirdre's old bike.

It would be so cool to see my friends. It didn't even occur to me to wonder if they would recognize me.

Next: Horsefeathers