A knock disturbed Timothy on his light nap on the counter. He perked his head and a stranger clad in the most crimson garment. She had a hat that’s so big, it reached his back. She eyed Timothy through the class and smiled.
“Aren’t you going to let me in Pickle?”
Timothy rushed at the door, “Ummm… Mr. Pickle isn’t here right now.”
“I grow weary of your crass humor, demon. Just let me in.” The buxom woman hissed. Timothy looked behind her and saw a sacked person in chains held by the woman. From the looks of it, the man was kidnapped amidst a formal event.
“Maam, I think you’re mistaken. Mr. Pickle isn’t here - he went grocery shopping.”
“Oh,” the woman said “and here I thought that he won’t take in another scrap from the streets. Pickle’s my friend. So can you let me in?”
“Mr. Pickle said I shouldn’t let anyone get inside the caravan.”
The woman huffed, “typical of him.”
The woman paced at the porch - flicked her hand in the air and sparks came out of her feather-adorned crimson dress. The back of her dress hardened, bent like a chair. Another flick of her hand and sparks came out of her finger. A pipe appeared from the sparks, which she used to smoke as she waited for Pickle to come. Timothy, on the other hand, returned to his melancholic drowse. All the while, he could not help but think of the person beside the woman. The one with a sack on his head. The person isn’t moving but there are signs of life as Timothy could see it breathing. Timothy could also hypothesize that the sacked person is a man.
Pickle returned not a moment sooner. The woman stood from her spot and met face to face with Pickle who’s carrying 10 bags of groceries. He’s red all over his skin whilst sweat drenched his polo. A hard-hitting musk emanated from him - which hit the woman and Timothy’s nose. It was an erotic aroma that was enough to make both of them - aroused. Timothy shook this thought and rushed in to help Pickle carry the bags.
“Thank you, Tim,” Pickle said. “Gloria, how nice of you to visit us.” Pickle smiled mockingly.
“Spare me the sarcasm. I need your help. I’ll pay extra this time.”
“Good. You understood my warning the last time you used my services.” Pickle opened the door and lead the woman inside along with her shacked prisoner. “Come in. Timothy, bring all the frozen goods to the refrigerator then come upstairs immediately.”
Timothy did what he was told. When he came back to the warehouse of bodies, Gloria and Pickle stood on the elevated platform near the door. They sat on antiquated chairs while they discussed their matters over tea. It was Earl Grey, Timothy noted. Pickle finished his tea while Gloria hasn’t touched hers. Timothy sat on a chair closer to Pickle. However, this meant that the sacked figure would be behind him.
“Does your assistant really have to listen to our conversation?” Gloria looked at Timothy with thin prying eyes. Eyes that arouse suspicion even if Timothy didn’t do anything.
“Yes. If he’s going to work for me, he needs to listen to my transactions. Isn’t that right Timothy?”
Timothy nodded.
“So, what brings you to my place, Gloria?”
“The usual, running away from my debtors. I mingled with the wrong crowd-”
“As always,” Pickle chuckled.
“I want you to put my soul in this hunk of a body,” Gloria pulled the chains and nodded at the sacked man’s direction. “I’ll pay 50 million dollars on top of seventy drachma coins. I want the operation to be done immediately.”
“You’re saying you have the money to pay me but not your debtors. Not to mention, you want me to place your soul on an occupied husk. I mean, I can do it but Gloria, who is this person that warrants your soul?”
Gloria whisked her hand and the sack flew off from the man’s face. Timothy’s eyes grew wide open. He knows that man, but he can’t place a name. He’s that cute British guy from the spider-boy movies. The new one. Timothy knows who he is because they have the same nickname. His brown eyes look dead-pan into a non-existential horizon. His shoulders hang lazily on his equally lethargic arced back. There’s a crimson lipstick mark on his lips which Timothy assumed as the source of his lazy look.
“They don’t want my body, they want a part of my soul. And I think you know what happens to mages with broken souls.” The crimson woman stood from her chair and went over Tim Dutch. She traced her bold red hands on his face, whilst her other crept inside his sweat-drenched clothes. “They expect me to hide inside an obscure husk. No families, no connection. So, I have him. He’s quite famous among the humans - a perfect hiding place for a decade or so. By the looks your assistant is giving, he knows who this guy is. Pickle, you’re a very naughty guy. You know the rules, no sharing magic to humans.”
Pickle gulped and looked at Timothy. For a moment, he showed fear. It was a split-second reaction that he did not dare let Gloria see.
“I’ve seen him transfer his soul on the first try. He’s got talent, Gloria.”
“The Magus Council won’t see it that way. Say, on top of my payment, I’ll keep this a secret between us.”
“Fine. But if you dare tell anyone about Timothy, I’ll report you to the Arcantel.” Gloria smiled and motioned a zipping motion on her lips. The secret is sealed, lest they want mutually assured destruction.
Pickle refilled his tea and slogged it on one sitting. Gloria just mused herself on a small sip. Both of them stood together and walked to the back of the warehouse where an oaken door with a brass handle stood ominously on a large blank corner. Inside the room was decorated with ornate walls with lightly glowing arcane symbols. On the middle of the room was a hair, an ordinary one except for the large arcane circle on the floor. Behind the chair is a table with an empty jar bottle.
Gloria pushed Tim Dutch on the chair. Pickle ordered Timothy to strip the other Tim. Timothy is taken aback. He has seen the other bodies in the warehouse naked. There’s an embarrassing predisposition here and there, but the thinking that he’ll walk among them daily made him ambivalent over the fact. But this - he’s stripping the body of a triple-A actor. Probably, against his wishes - if he has one among that dazed look. Timothy gulped. He doesn’t want to do this but the thought of disobeying Pickle, after he fed him and rescued him from the Diesel boys, punched him harder in the gut. And so, he went over to the other Tim and unbuttoned his polo. Tim Dutch may be drenched in sweat but surprisingly, he doesn’t smell at all. He smelled quite nice, like faint men’s perfume. The other thing Timothy noticed is how cut Tim Dutch is. His muscles are subtle but the strength they contained is undeniably powerful. Timothy could not help but sneak under the watchful guise of Gloria, a slight touch of his abdominal muscles. Fuck they are hard. Gloria struck a curious eyebrow at what Timothy did but he doused the suspicion by unbuckling Tim Dutch’s belt. He pulled the pants down, revealing a boxer with a hard-on. It wasn’t outright hard, but it is enough to be hidden inside his loose pants.
If Tim Dutch’s upper body didn’t stick, the opposite held true for the other half. His boxers gave a hard-hitting stench that filled Timothy’s lungs. It became more powerful the moment he removed said boxers. He might not have taken a bath for a few days to have a scent like this, but only perfumed himself to hide his stench.
Timothy gulped, not only the hard stone behind his throat but also the accompanying taste of the stench in the air. He gulped because of the sight before him, a thick slab of uncut meat hanging loosely above Tim’s pink clean balls. There’s no hair in sight, not even at the surface of his balls. Whether it was a pre-requisite for artists to have a shaven groin, Timothy did not care. If he had the chance, he’d swallow it instantly and taste all that salty, tangy flesh. But alas, he’s under the eyes of two mages waiting for him to finish his task, Timothy removed Tim’s shoes and socks. He left a lingering touch on his cute little and supple feet before returning by Pickle’s side.
“He’s perfect,” Gloria said. “Was it three? Wait, no. Five years since I last controlled the body of a man. It is a welcome sensation to return. Pickle, you do the usual - leave the talent and the memories.”
Pickle pushed aside Timothy and pointed him to oversee by the corner of the room. He stepped in front of the circle, raised his bulging arms into the air, and shouted a demonic gurgle. The ground shook as if it was going to crack open. A flow of light flit into the air, filling the arcane decorations of the room. There is a crackle of energy in the air. The electricity that not only rushed condensed on Tim Dutch’s body but dissipated into Timothy and Gloria’s as well. Timothy embraced the energy with reprehension while Gloria smiled at the familiar sensation of a new body that’s soon to come.
The crescendo of magic halted instantly. It ended with Pickle breathing a sigh of exhaustion as much as a sigh of relief. Timothy looked behind Tim and saw that the empty jar already has a content of yellow energy. It glowed like an old lightbulb, complete with the buzzing sound.
“It’s finished,” Pickle said, “I’d test the work myself but Timothy, would you kindly test the husk.”
Timothy’s face lit up and filled with glee. He pranced towards Tim’s side but before he could lay his hand on his head, Pickle grabbed him.
“Wait, this husk is different. This one has memories in it, so it will be a rough ride entering his mindscape. But I believe you have the same talent that surprised me when you jumped to your husk on your first time. Continue to surprise me.”
With that, Timothy placed his hand on a bed of smooth fluffy hair. He closed his eyes like before and breathed. He is the paint on a canvas ready to jump onto another. This time, the whole process was like second nature. The melancholic peace is a welcome sight but Timothy knew he shouldn’t stay long. His target canvas appeared on the horizon but it’s different. The canvas is not blank, it has a shape - a predefined form. Timothy poked through the canvas and filled every niche of it. The moment he filled one spot, a pang of memory flared color in his mindscape. Tim’s memories became his own. He remembered that time he was bullied for dancing. Wait, it was not he who wasn’t bullied - it was Tim. That didn’t matter as the more he tried to differentiate from his real self, the more memories came in that blurred the lines. He remembers joining the dance and soon, the theater. He could even remember vague memories of past girlfriends and boyfriends, whom Tim didn’t stay for long because of his line of work. He remembers even the memories Tim forgot. Tim’s life is a book Timothy could read all at once. When Timothy opened his eyes, confusion washed over him.
“Do you remember who you are?” Pickle said as he slapped him on the cheeks.
“I- ‘m Tim. No. Timothy. Yes, Timothy is my full first name. You’re Pickle and she’s Gloria.”
Pickle looked at Gloria, “See? I told you my assistant has talent. His mind did not fracture on the first try.”
“Pish, posh. Now do the other diagnostics so that I could get this over with.”
“Timothy, now move your limbs. Do you feel any ache? Any lingering numbness? Is your body moving according to your will?”
Timothy stood in the middle of the room, naked and bare, breathing air from his new set of lungs. He may be shorter than his previous body but the strength deep within his skin is so goddamn powerful. He flexed both arms and hardened his abs. This set of movements invigorated him. He could not but grow hard.
“Good, I see that husk has working genitalia.” Gloria scoffed, “Now sing. I’ve seen that boy singing before I kidnapped him.”
Timothy looked deep into the open book in his mind. There are a ton of songs he remembers but he chose to sing Gloria mentioned - “Dancing King” by Adda. He breathed in and sang the tune. The notes and words flowed on his tongue like smooth raspy butter. He hit every perfect note and finished with an applause from Pickle.
“Bravo! The husk works fine. Return to your husk, and Gloria and I will discuss the terms. You can arrange the groceries in the kitchen after you do so.”
With a heavy heart, Timothy returned to his husk. It’s not as amazing as Tim, but it sure is a lot better than his real body. Timothy returned downstairs and finished the task Pickle gave him. He returned to the lobby afterward where Pickle is discussing with Gloria who is now inside Tim’s body. He’s worn a new set of polo and pants. His overall appearance looks haggard and tired, but the adorable quality Tim has is still there.
“I added the funds to your bank. Untraceable like always.” Gloria said with Tim’s signature subtle smile.
“Thank you and come back again if the need arises.”
With a flick of - previously her, now his- finger and a spark, Gloria was gone. Pickle faced Timothy with the glowing jar in his hand.
“For your last lesson of the day, this Timothy is a soul - pure and unrefined human soul. There’s a lot of use for a human soul but that’s a lesson for another day. Although, I’m going to give you these choices. First, go outside, open it, and let it pass to the afterlife. Second, there’s a room east of the warehouse where I keep my stash of souls. I conjured a shelf near the door just for your collection. Third, surprise me.”