A gold zipper on his hand, its metallic workings glinted in the afternoon sun. Paul sat by a chair in front of the magic store that disappeared right before his very eyes. The memory inside the store is still foggy. He remembered seeing mountains upon mountains of old and broken objects. But the more he peered in his memories, the more he lost them. He’s sure that there is an old man involved, and maybe a black cat as well. The only remaining truth of that store is the golden zipper now in his possession.
It’s hard to believe that this zipper could let you take over the lives of other people. Paul would not believe it himself if he didn’t partake in strange message boards and forums on the dark web. Anonymous posters of those sites speak of a strange shop offering strange artifacts and services. Much like the shop Paul left. They spoke of a sales clerk who usually looked like an old man with an attire not apt for this period. Some would claim that the clerk is a woman. Then some recalled the shop clerk as looking like a reflection of themselves.
The shop would come bearing gifts, each a different artifact for a different story. One was gifted with a magical coin that would let him swap lives with another. He took a picture when his life was in the gutters, and another when he lived in a lavish beachside mansion in Boca Raton. One even spoke of a notepad that let him transform into other people whose names are written on its infinite pages. Many would dismiss him. They would soon find themselves silent when he posted nude pictures of actors the other posters requested. Then suddenly, he was gone.
Setting aside his experience and expectations, Paul felt strange energies emanating from the zipper. He knows it’s real. It must be. It should.
Looking around this district, many of the buildings lay desolate and empty. The rise of online shopping pushed these brick-and-mortar stores to bankruptcy. Paul can’t even remember why he was here in the first place.
The only people that would go here are hobos seeking a place to stay. Or the local kids and teenagers who see the abandoned buildings as their personal hideout. One such kid would pass by Paul. Dressed in a white shirt and a hoodie wrapped around his waist, his gaping nape presented Paul with an opportunity to use his artifact.
The boy, no older than eleven, somehow detected what Paul was planning. He clutched his skateboard close with his eyes glaring at Paul for a split second. But Paul is faster. He jumped at the boy and let the zipper touch the boy’s neck.
The effects were instantaneous. The zipper stuck to the boy’s skin and dangled even though Paul’s fingers let go. The boy collapsed on the floor, his wide-open unblinking eyes staring at Paul. Behind those eyes, Paul knew that the boy was gone. Temporarily, he hopes. Those eyes are devoid of life, as much as these streets are devoid of people. The boy barely flinched when his face was touched. Even when Paul groped the boy in private places, the boy didn’t make a noise.
Even though he is safe from an onlooker’s eyes, Paul booked it. He dragged the boy to a nearby alley. He’s glad that the floor is dry and there’s no hobo behind the trash bin. He plopped the boy above wooden crates and looked at his victim’s face.
But before that, he’s uncomfortable with having the boy look at him. Using his fingers, Paul dragged the boy’s eyelids down.
The boy has chestnut hair with flecks of blonde at the top. His skin is left clear, unblemished, naught for light freckles that elude the unfocused eye. His lips are pink but have one small wound at the bottom lip. Then there are also faint signs of scars on his arms and feet. There is even an adhesive bandage on his left knee. Thanks to the skateboard, Paul painted a picture of what this boy’s life is like.
He’s a skater, albeit a new one at that.
But enough about the boy and more about the zipper.
Paul removed the boy’s clothes where he saw faint musculature in the boy’s torso. He flipped the body on its back. The zipper is still hanging but he laid it in the correct position. As he did, the zipper faintly glowed then back to normal. He slid the zipper open where a moist warm air fled to his nostrils. It’s not pungent. It’s kinda endearing, in a way. It reminded Paul of a damp sweaty smell of a high school shower room.
The more Paul pulled, the more air hissed out, and the more the boy deflated. By the end, the boy was as empty as a deflated balloon. It’s so easy pulling him out of his clothes. With one pull, all of his clothes loosened and were pulled free.
The boy looked like a rubber suit, dead but somehow had the semblance of life. The skin is warm to the touch and when Paul touched the chest, he swore he felt faint heartbeats.
Paul removed his shoes but kept his clothes on. Even though he is alone, he is afraid that he’ll be seen naked.
The inside of the suit is warm and a bit wet to the touch. He stretched the hole open and pushed his arms and feet inside their respective places. He is bigger than the kid so it’s expected that the suit would stretch a lot. But somehow, no such stretching occurred. The suit is a snug fit. Strange as it seemed, Paul continued by stretching the head and pulling it over his face. The head smelled like dried soda and cheese chips. Probably the snacks this boy had before coming to this place. Once that was done, the only thing left to do is close the zipper. Bending his arm backward, he pulled the handle upwards. Each time the tab closed a pair of teeth, Paul could feel his body shivering and compressing. The suit is eating him up. The sensation of having a second skin dissipated and was replaced by the sensation of the hot afternoon air dancing on his skin. As the final teeth were closed, Paul found himself moaning - not with his voice but the voice of another. A voice familiar yet a stranger.
Memories of the boy flooded his mind. Thoughts and memories snap in and out. A hundred ended as another hundred began. His name is Jon, a kid living in a common suburbia nearby. His family is fairly normal. He has a father who goes downtown to work as a contractor, his mother is a housewife who tends to her garden in her free time, and he has an older brother with whom he shares an interest in skateboarding. He’s actually on his way to meet him inside the abandoned mall, where the main atrium is a good place to learn how to do an ollie.
The memories ended and Paul found himself at the edge of moaning. He’s glad that the sound he made didn’t attract a curious passerby. Or maybe his screaming managed to scare them off. Nonetheless, waking up in another person’s body felt raw and exhilarating. The world seemed larger and more vibrant. His heart is racing and his breath fumes from his mouth.
The excitement is still alive and Paul couldn’t contain it any longer. With his scabbed little fingers, he grabbed his prepubescent dick and masturbated right then and there. It’s tough getting a strong grip because of how small it is. About 3-inches or so. Nonetheless, he managed to make it work. From his memories, it seemed Jon hadn't done this before. He knew the initial feeling of engorgement but he’s too afraid to see it through to the end. But with Paul by the handle, the fear meant nothing. There’s only the hunger for pleasure.
With one final stroke, thick and hot cum sprang in the air. His virgin release came in buckets. He was leaking cum like a faucet. There are times when Paul thought it was already done, but a few more spurt came. He fell forward on his bed of discarded clothes as his dick leaked its contents on the concrete pavement.
Paul’s mind was previously overfilled with the memories of another. Now? There is nothing. It’s blank. As blank as it was when he left that store. Played dirty on the ground, his dick is still leaking its final drops.
Paul picked himself up and dressed in Jon’s clothes. He wore his used underwear, which he soiled with a final leakage of his cum. Then his pair of shorts and his branded shirt. He tied the hoodie around his waist just as Jon would always do. He wore his shoes and grabbed his bag. For the shoes of his previous body, he placed them inside Jon’s bag.
Riding on this skateboard, there are numerous places where he could go. As the wheels rolled, the clink of the golden zipper rustled on his back.