Ugo

Sick of himself and desperate to change, Ugo swallows a mysterious tonic given to him by a medicine woman.

              Ugo

  Ugo shuffled into his cabin. His breaths quickening and hands slick with sweat, he took a short glass out and filled it half with whiskey. As he paced back and fourth in his kitchen, stroking his hand over his bald head, he realized he’d committed a crime only the lowest scum could. He’d abducted someone. He tilted his tan glass of alcohol to his mouth and swallowed it to the last drop. Sigh.  

  His seven cats met him, meowing and rubbing against his leg, purrs that sounded like motors inside them. He grabbed the bag of cat food from the shelf in the pantry and poured some into their bowls as they hurried for position.

  There was an empty feeling at the pit of his belly, and it wasn’t his hunger.

  He poured another half glass of the whiskey and shambled to his bathroom mirror. With his bulbous nose, the carmine-red scare stretching across his right cheek and his bald moon-colored head, his social life was set for failure. When wearing his baggy white underwear, he looked like a giant baby who’d been scraped on the face.

   Ugo turned on the faucet over his sink and cupped water in his hands and splashed it onto his face. He brought the glass of whiskey to his mouth, finishing it off; the room now slightly spinning from drinking on an empty stomach.

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a flask of neon-blue potion the little old lady at the shop had given him. She had said, “Once you drink one of these, it can become as addicting as coffee--you’ll always want more for that extra perk.

  Shuffling to his basement door, he stopped and took a deep breath and blew out his anxiety before slipping on a ski-mask. As he strode down the steps, the exotic, long dark haired lady came into view, still bind to the pipe, screaming through the cloth muffled around her mouth.

  What have I done?  I’m a monster!

   He put the flask of tonic to his mouth and tossed it down like he was taking a shot of some strong liquor for the first time, not knowing if he’d gag. But as it washed over his tongue and down his esophagus, he was reminded of peach juice.    

   As he squatted before the lady, she watched him with her wide russet eyes, her bottom lip quivering. He brushed a strand of her dark hair from her prominent face, and dabbed tears from her cheeks. They were so smooth.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. “I promise.”

This was beyond criminal, it was psychotic.

“I just need you for a little while longer. Then you can go home. Okay?”

She bobbed her head as if he was working her on strings, like a puppet.  

  What if something happened to her during this experiment? What if the old lady was tricking him? What if she was actually some witch?

 Focusing strongly on the lady’s teary eyes, he rose to his feet, recalling the words the elderly lady had told him to say. “I cast my body away--” He held his head down, shaking it, frowning. I sound like a nut. He lifted his chin, setting his eyes back on the lady. “--I cast my body away, and condemn my soul to your body,” he shouted.

Every thing went black as he lost all of his senses.

 

***
  Naked, Ugo rose to his knees. His clothes lay piled on the floor along with his mask and shoes. His hand flew to his chest, where two breasts now protruded firmly. There he sat, slumped on the wood floor in a female anatomy. It worked! Shape-shifting isn’t just a myth!

 This was wrong, so wrong, but his adrenaline spiked. 

“Forgive me,” he begged.

  Her stomach fell and rose in hurried rhythms as tears rolled down her cheeks.

 “But I couldn’t live in my monstrous body any more.”

  Ugo stood, caressing his feminine body. Perfect.  

 He held the lady with his gaze. “People look at you and smile. They want to talk to you; they want to be your friend--” He paused, his mouth open, trying to think of the right words. “--I needed to know what that was like, to be appreciated.”

 Untying the rope, he freed her arm from the pipe. She sagged on her bottom, as she gaped at her splitting image in front of her.

“Go, you’re free,” he said, his voice much softer, much more feminine.

She looked up at the top of the steps and at him

“Go!”

She dashed up the steps, stumbling once. As she reached the top, she turned and looked at him. Her lips started to move, but no words came out. She stormed off.

 He strode to the steps. She’d call the cops, of course, but he had nothing they could find at his cabin, not even is true identity. He deserved to be sent to prison for life, to be rejected from society.

 His heart slowed as he rubbed his hand down his curved body once more, relieved not to see the flab, blinding him from seeing his legs.  

  No more moles, no more scars, no more saggy skin!  

  He could blend in now, but at what cost? How often would he need a fix, to shift into another body?

  What had he done? What had he done?!

  With his womanly body, he trotted up the steps, out the door and into his bedroom. He picked up panties on the bed and stepped into them. Struggling--being he’d never dressed in women’s cloths--he stuffed his legs into a pair of skinny-blue jeans, never would he have fit his fat a*s in these before. Shrugging into an ivory blouse and buttoning it up, he danced in front of his mirror, swishing his hips side to side and running his hand up through his dark hair, looking radiant. Radiant!

  Ugo slipped into a denim jacket and rushed out his front door, knowing the police would arrive at the cabin any moment. He slipped his shoes off and ran for the train station a half mile up the road.

 He recalled the elderly lady telling him his new body would only last a day, and then he’d turn back into his bull frog self.

 Arriving at the train station, he found a digital camera on the ground. He turned about him, seeing if someone was looking for it. A few men gazed at him, one man winking out of his pale bearded face. What the young lady probably found to be rude, he found flattering.

 He slipped coins into a machine and got his pass to board the train. Once on, he took his seat as more guys glanced his way, admiring his knew female physique.

 

 He turned to the window and met his reflection, and understood why men, as well as women, were staring at him. He was--”

  He scratched at his nose, forgetting he didn’t have any nose hairs to pick out, not in his fresh body. “--he was gorgeous. He was the lady he’d admired. What would it take to maintain this new life-style? Abducting innocent people and scaring the s**t out of them.

  He scanned the digital camera with his smaller feminine hand and accidentally pressed a button, activating the flash. A couple of rows down, a young Asian man slept in a seat by himself. Ugo snapped a photo, followed by another. He didn’t know why, but he suddenly had a fascination with people. He could be any of them. He took a few more photos and set the camera on the seat.

 He smiled as he acknowledged his beautiful shape. But it wasn’t him, he had only changed on the outside, inside he was still, Ugo. He would always have Ugo’s thoughts, Ugo’s soul, and Ugo’s memories.

 

 

 

 

 

         

 

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[Fetish Ewing]

What in the WORLD!?!?!?
What an awesome story! Oh my god, that was so cool! I've read so many stories that started out with defeated, unhealthy men coming home and taking swigs of whiskey. It was only in that passage did I start to doubt the story, THOUGH kudos to you for not using the phrase "amber liquid" when describing his whiskey. So many other authors use that and I can't stand it; it's cliche. I had no idea how your story was going to turn out so it was a great treat to see that something sinister in a pedestrian way became sinister in a supernatural way. It was depraved, it was comical, it included elements of fear, violence, sexuality; it was so juicy. Great job! If I had any critique I'd say that I was comfortable with Ugo's physical features before he transformed. I understand "different strokes for different folks" but I'd be more understanding of his body dis-morphia if he, I don't know, had a defect or something else. It's only a passing critique. Also, include a little more vivid descriptions of his house that further describes his pathetic life. Maybe get rid of the cats. I loved this short story. It was fun!

[Derek Cummings]

Hi Lavon. Thank you for the kind yet constructive critique. I have actually revised the story since posting here, and plan on writing it into a novella or perhaps novel.