Futurismic‘s resident purveyor of gender- and identity-bending fiction, Ruth Nestvold, brings us a story about the dangers of escaping your own skin – “Exit Without Saving”.
Exit Without Saving
by Ruth Nestvold
Spending credit illegally was difficult, but there were ways, if you were clever. There were always ways. Using a morph unit illegally was even more difficult, but to Mallory it was worth the risk.
Friends like Lorraine made it possible. Lorraine was a lab technician for Softec, and she was both clever and greedy; to make a little extra on the side, she allowed Mallory to use the units during off hours. Mallory had no idea if any of the other morph agents were also clandestine customers — Lorraine could be trusted to keep her mouth shut.
“I don’t understand why they don’t market these things for entertainment purposes,” Lorraine said as she adjusted the download cap on Mallory’s head. Continue reading EXIT WITHOUT SAVING by Ruth Nestvold
David Reagan‘s “Only The Neck Down” is the kind of story that lands a heavy narrative punch with a few well-placed images. You know how when you like the beginning of a story, you start worrying the writer’s going to screw up the end? David doesn’t.
A word of warning: this story contains explicit sexual imagery, so avert your eyes if you’re a young ‘un or overly sensitive.
Only The Neck Down
by David Reagan
Adrianna loved cool fall evenings without a hair-disturbing breeze — perfect weather for donning a warm and fuzzy sweater. She picked the pink one, a recent thrift store find, because it was a size too small. Fashion’s winter weaponry could be just as devastating as short shorts and a halter top.
She examined herself in the mirror, starting at the floor and working her way up. Nice feet, well proportioned. In the summer, she was fond of sandals and holographic nail polish that shimmered with rainbow colors on each of her toes. Her tight, denim jeans highlighted long legs that tapered up to perfect thighs and hips that showed her femininity without flaunting it. She twisted at the waist, pleased with the firm swells of her rear. Fifteen miles a week on the treadmill were doing their job. Continue reading ONLY THE NECK DOWN by David Reagan