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And we're told our new goals, we're told our new dreams

They're nothing like the dreams we once held

And now to follow our dreams we have to buy all this crap

Fulfill the dreams of someone else

• Abney Park's The Story That Never Starts

In an apartment somewhere, a woman does a handstand.

It is a fairly normal apartment, and the woman is mostly normal. She wears a sports bra. And rests her forearms on a yoga mat. Her forearms are flat on the mat, her legs and torso are a straight line facing the wall, and her toes touch the wall, in a sort of lazy L-shape. Or perhaps a very drunk Z. Her mobile phone rests on the mat in front of her, in easy view.

In addition, she has two jade eggs in her vagina, and just realized something important.

I can't-why can't I move? I can...move my head, a little, and my face, but the rest of me is locked down. Did I damage my neck, somehow? My spine?

Well, only one thing to do.

"Call Silk customer service!"

"Be-Beep. Calling. Danone. North Amer-"

"Not the soy milk, the lifestyle company!"

"Be-Beep. Calling. SILK. Customer service."

"Thank you."

The call connects. "Thank you for contacting SILK Customer service."

"Hello! I used your eggs and no-"

"Your call is important to us-"

"No!"

"Please hold while our operators deal with other customers."

The pleasant music comes on. The woman lets her head hang, and just grinds her teeth for a while.

Do...do I feel funny? Down there?

"Silk International Lifestyle and Kinesthetics Customer Service, how may I help you?"

"I bought jade eggs, and I think they're doing something strange! Kinda...melting! And I can't move! And I'm doing a handstand!"

Click click. "Have you exposed them to heat above 47 degrees Celsius?"

"...What's that in American?"

"115 Farenheit."

"Oh. No. No, I haven't."

"Have you exposed them to vinegar? "

"No?"

"Are you using more than one at once?"

The woman blinks. "Um..."

There's a brief silence. A judgy silence.

"Ma'am, are you using the eggs during yoga?"

The woman would've winced, if she could've. "...Yes?"

"Did you invert the product?"

"Um..."

The representative does not sigh. The woman hears the rep not-sighing. It's the loudest not-sigh she has ever heard.

"So...what do I do?"

"First, I need to read the disclaimer."

"Disclaimer?"

"By providing this assistance, Slick International is doing so out of goodwill, not because of any liability. SILK believes the consumer is in breach of the warranty agreement, and is under no legal obligation to assist. Do you understand this disclaimer as it has been provided to you?"

"Um...yes?"

"Do you agree with this disclaimer?"

"Yes! Help me!"

"Good. Thank you. Do we have your permission to send agents to your recorded address, who may need to damage your property in order to render assistance?"

"What?"

"Do you want me to send someone over who might have to break the door down to help you?"

"Oh. Yes. But didn't Jill Colter recommend it?"

"Miss Colter did not actually recommend the product. In addition, it is legally classified as a paperweight.

Well, that had been on the website, but- "I thought some intern put it in the wrong category!"

"Yes, ma'am. Most people do. We've gotten some very considerate emails."

"But she was on talk shows! There were...videos..."

"Yes, and?" The rep seems just a little smug.

The woman concentrates. It's not like she can do much else.

"Son of a- she never recommended it."

"Exactly like I told you."

"She said it had been scientifically tested, and people came to her with rave reviews. she never... never directly claimed it worked." The woman's eyes widen. "She never even said she used it! How do you get away with this?"

The rep sounds confused. "Is this the first time you've bought something on a celebrity's say-so?"

Woman blushes. "Well...no."

Something in her squeezes, and something slips out of her, something round and semi-hard.

It's gonna fall to the ground, right?

Something hits the wall between her feet, spatters wet onto her toes. She barely has time to flinch before the object lands right in the crack of her-

No!

And then the egg slips in.

"It's in me!" the woman wails.

The tech sounds puzzled. "Yes, I believe that's the idea."

"No! One of them came out the-the front, bounced off the wall, and landed in the back!"

A brief silence. A silence with lots of time for the woman to play back what she had just said.

Gonna think I'm crazy.

"That's unfortunate. I'll tell the agents to hurry. Well, hurry more."

"You believe me?"

"Yes. Are you feeling peculiar?"

"I have weird eggs in me!"

"Besides that."

"I-"

Come to think, she does feel funny down below. Or is it technically up above? Any road, she feels like she has cramps-

Except...

Not.

"I think I'm squeezing."

"Squeezing?"

"In my, y'know."

"Oh. Front or back?"

"Front."

Her forearms ache, especially the elbows.

"I can feel them. In me. Splitting. It's like that thing cells do. Halitosis? Athetosis?"

"Mitosis?"

"Yeah, that. Is that...normal? Will I need surgery? Or will they just-" She tries to sound like joking, lightheated. "- turn me right side up and shake me? "

"Can you still stay up?"

"I don't have much choice, do I? I bet I look like I'm nine months pregnant."

"Or you just got back from an all you can eat buffet."

The woman snorts.

It's so big. So heavy.

She laughs again, a little more genuine this time. "I was doing yoga to avoid this stuff!" It strikes her as very ironic. She laughs harder, sings "Big big belly betcha got a big belly."

"Ma'am?"

The woman blinks. "Right. Sorry. I don't know...what that was."

"Blame it on a rush of blood to the head."

"Hey, I love that song. Don't know what it means, but I love it."

"Yes, ma'am. How are the changes progressing?"

"I feel so full back there. I can't hold it in! What if it's, like, some combination of this stuff and my regular...crap? What if it turned my crap into this stuff?"

"What's it doing now?"

"It's... ugh, now I know how my Colgate feels. It's coming out. And it's running down my cheeks. Toward my coccyx."

A pause on the line. "I'm sorry, I thought you were a wo-"

The woman grins at the floor. "My tailbone."

"Oh."

"It's dripping down my back. Up my back. Both. I don't know. You know?"

"I think I do."

"It's like one of those fancy back necklaces you wear with fancy dresses."

"Back necklaces?"

"Like ladies wear with fancy dresses." The woman thinks for a second. "Men too. If they're brave enough. Or on Drag Race."

She's quiet for a second or two.

"What if it doesn't come off?"

"What?"

"What if this...stuff? What if it's permanent? Will I look like a freak forever?"

"You won't. I-"

"How do you know? You're just customer service!" The woman's chest heaves up and down. Her distended stomach jiggles.

"Hey! Listen to me! Listen! I swear, you're going to be okay. You won't have to worry about anything. The technicians will take care of you. Do you understand me?"

"I-"

"Do you understand me? You're going to be okay. Say it."

"I'm... I'm going to be okay."

"One more time."

"I'm going to be okay."

"Again."

"I'm going to be okay!" Her shout echoes through the empty apartment.

"Feel better?"

"...A little."

Her heart beats a little slower by the second. The knot in her chest loosens, just a little.

It's strange to feel her body breathing without her consent.

Well, more than usual.

You are now breathing manually.

Despite the situation, despite everything, she smiles. And then-

"How?"

"How...what?"

"How will they get in?"

"They have a tool."

"Ah." A few seconds. "Knew I should've bought a smart lock."

"Really? They're as bad as regular locks. Maybe worse."

"Yeah, but then I could just give them the code."

"Mmm. What's going on?"

"I don't think it's staying put."

"What isn't staying put?"

"My belly. My boobs feel funny. Heavier, maybe? Especially my nipples."

"They feel heavy?"

"Well...not heavy, exactly. They feel... I don't know how to explain i-oh!"

"Did something happen?"

"Yeah, I think I'm lactating. Or whatever it is. My sports bra feels funny around the nipples. Smoother."

The "lactation" progresses swiftly. Until-

"I think it's looser."

"Your bra?"

"It feels like it's not fitting as well. I think the stuff on my back hit it. It's starting to get soaked, and that makes it..."

"Hello? Are you still there?"

"Yeah, I just realized; what if it's melting my bra?"

The representative sounds confused. "Wouldn't it have melted your underwear and leggings?"

"My - oh, that's right, I forgot to tell you. I...do this bottomless?"

Silence on the line. "Not the strangest thing I've heard. But why the sports bra?"

"Support."

"I see. Of course."

"I think my bra is sliding off. Or-down. Down my arms. The backlace is...wrapping round my neck. Will it choke me?"

"You'll be fine. It'll be like a collar. Probably."

A tense, pregnant silence.

"How do you know that?"

"It's a long story. You said your bra was melting?"

"Huh?"

"Your bra?"

"Oh. Right. It's harder for my arms to hold me up. The goop that used to be my bra is covering them now. All the way to the fingers." Beat. "Pretty color. I can feel my muscles straining more. "

"How does your stomach feel?"

"Full."

"Not what I meant. How do your abs feel?"

"Huh. They don't... They don't...realluh huh anymore."

Why is so hard to speak? Why does my tongue feel heavy? And...big-

She crosses her eyes, tries to look down - up? - at her own lips. "Nuh??"

It's - it's like the time she tried to lick a beehive when she was ten. There was a panicked moment when she forgot she had a nose, wondered how she could breathe with a swollen tongue. She wouldn't make that same mistake agai-

The tongue pushes its way out of her mouth, past her teeth. She still can't see it, even though she strains her eyes until they ache in her sockets. "Beh!"

It's...different. Wet, in a way tongues usually weren't. Something drips off it, curls down over her upper lip, down that little divot-

And right into her nostrils.

Understandably, she panics somewhat.

She can barely get air past the...thing. There's this weird tightness in her chest, right around the top of her breastbone.

Wait a second.

When was the last time I actually took a breath?

"Finally," the rep says. "I was wondering when you'd notice."

"Nuh? Nuh deh deh eh deh?"

"We didn't do anything." The rep has that patronizing tone you always felt customer service reps wanted to put on when they were talking to idiots. Especially if you were in customer service. "You bought the eggs."

Now she can see her tongue. See it expand, pulsing, with every breath she didn't take. See it bow under the weight, toward her nose, eyes.

See it start to melt.

"And I suppose that's your tongue, right?" asks the representative. "Getting swollen? Thick? Heavy?"

It's hard for the woman to talk, with her mouth full. With her lips rounding into an O shape. It's hard to do anything, anything at all.

Including thinking.

"The coating should be covering your face now. I wish I could see it. I wish I was there to watch."

The woman's hair shivers, thickens, flows together, flows down.

The wetness that had been her hair gloops down the back of her neck, along her jaw, over her cheeks, meets the darkness coming up from her face hole.

And it is a hole now. Not a mouth. A mouth implies the need to speak, eat, breathe.

The representative says "can you keep a secret? Sorry, my little joke."

The woman doesn't seem to mind. Doesn't seem to mind much of anything, really.

"In a sense, I envy you." The representative's voice drops, almost to a whisper. Almost wistful. "No will, no responsibilities."

The woman's nose becomes a small bump, a suggestion of a nose.

A breathy voice, cloth rustling. "You never have to make a single choice again."

There is a wet sound from the phone. The woman does not react.

"That's so hot."

The slickness covers the blank, unseeing orbs that used to be eyes.

She handstands there for a few seconds, her muscles trembling. Her left leg folds, until her upper thigh is flush against her belly, and the rest of her leg is folded tight against it. She straightens that leg backward, until her legs are at obtuse angles.

Then she bends her right leg slightly, and pushes off the wall.

There's a moment where her arms and torso are perfectly straight, and her legs are perfect opposites, before she continues the flip, and stands doubled over, her spine bowed back into a C. She completes the backflip, and stands straight up, arms at her side, just past the yoga mat.

Then she trembles again.

From the knees down, she angles her legs out, slightly. Lets them slide into a wider stance. Then, as some liquid drips down her leg, she sinks to her knees. Stays there for a few seconds.

She leans forward slightly. The muscles in her legs, her hips tremble. Her back arches slightly, but her arms still hang limp.

If she still breathed, she'd pant now. She bears down instead, and the first dark purple egg slips out of her, hits the ground, slides for a few inches on her juices.

A few seconds later, the second, green egg hits the floor, and fetches up against the first.

In front, more dark liquid pours from her slit. Some of it hits the floor.

She keeps twitching, keeps straining.

The egg pile grows.

The liquid splashes into the air, comes down on her legs. Drips down the curves of her outer thighs, pools under her legs, wraps them in slick, shiny dark.

It also coats her slit, and much of the area around it.

And eventually, something else changes.

It starts with a bulge. A round shape, a little smaller than one of her eggs, but with a similar, more symmetrical shape. Every time she strains, every time she tenses, it gets a little farther out, until it dangles from her crotch, above the vagina still spewing eggs.

Then another bulge. Smaller, this time. This one isn't timed to her oviparous efforts. Sometimes she strains, and eggs come out. Sometimes she pushes, and the bulge gets a little farther.

Eventually, an egglike shape is visible, at the end of a tube. She keeps pushing. The egg-head of the growth opens up. There's a slit on the underside.

The growth grows no longer. The flow of eggs have stopped. All her effort, all her will - what little she has left - bears down on this one obstruction, the object exiting her millimeter by millimeter, until it reaches some decisive point, pauses, and then-

She makes a sound that could be a sigh, could be a moan.

The egg drops from the end of her cock, and slides across the floor.

A few seconds later, more eggs squirt from her vagina.

And then, once more, from her dick.

And she is done.

"Hello? Are you still there?"

The dark goop creeps closer and closer to the forgotten phone. The representative, sounding much more like the start of the call, says. "Please feel free to fill out a customer satisfaction survey on our website. Your feedback is important to us. Thank you for using Slick International Lifestyle and Kinesthetics Customer Supp-"

The screen flickers, and blips out.

What does the woman feel about it? It's not clear through the hood. Though the blank mask. It's not clear if she even notices.

The house is silent, for a time. Aside from the obvious.

Eventually, the knob for the front door turns, and the door itself swings open. The two men behind it are tall and short, in white disposable coveralls and facial masks. The shorter one holds a device that would - if you looked closely at it - appear to be both vibrating and standing still at the same time.

They walk in, locate the woman. The shorter one pulls out a phone. The taller one whistles.

"Wow. She's high volume, Boss."

The shorter man takes the photo, sends it to his boss. "Hmm?"

"The products. She's...she's puttin' out a lot."

"Uh-huh." The phone confirms the photo was sent.

"How much do you think they'll get for her?"

"Not sure." The shorter man holds out his hand, without turning around.. "Pass the bag."

Even through the mask, the taller man looks blank. "I thought you had it."

"Seriously?" The shorter man sighs. "Here's the keys. Hurry up. It's almost lunchtime."

"Why do I-"

"I did it last time. And you still owe me after the factory job."

"Oh, right. BRB."

And off he goes.

The shorter man looks around. Nods at the decor. Then he kneels in front of the woman, careful not to step in the puddle. He peers into where her eyes would be, and snorts. "Chicken Little, Chicken Little, the sky isn't falling."

The drone shudders, the machinery winding down. And, more importantly to the man, the flow of eggs stops, leaving nothing but the sound of the air conditioner, and her still dropping wetness.

The shorter man stands, interlaces his fingers, and stretches for the labour to come.

"Should've read the fine print," he mutters.

ENDF

---

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"The Omelette"

2020 Nequ

Fanart and Fan Stories welcome.

---

"Why do so many of your stories read like body horror?"

...Because they are?

Here's the part that'll bake your noodle; was all of this inevitable, or did it only happen because the customer misused the product? And did you wonder why she called customer service instead of 9-11? Sure is strange, isn't it?

I originally planned to use OK GO's "Upside Down And Inside Out" as the intro song, but it was a bit too direct. So was Coldplay's "A Rush of Blood to the Head".

"And an Abney Park song about consumerism isn't?"

It's actually about dreams and conformity. Consumerism is just one example.

"And what about the story's symbolism?"

The what now?

"The way the lady wants to CONSUME PRODUCT so much she becomes the product. Social commentary on our celebrity-obsessed culture and consumerism and maybe social media."

That is an interesting interpretation, and I wish I could take credit for it, but frankly I was just thinking "faceless drones are hot".

"Oh."

Sorry.