Build-A-Partner: Business As Usual

The day-to-day operations of Build-A-Partner tended to be mind-numbingly boring, as Barton discovered in the days following their opening. The monotony of managing temperamental equipment and dodging calls from collection agencies was starting to take its toll; in fact the only respite from the boredom came from the occasional customer that would wander in from off the street. They had at last managed to get their first ever scheduled appointment, and Barton was eager to impress. The business would continue hemorrhaging money if he didn’t build up a decent clientele, and the young scientist had been repeatedly reminded of his marketing shortcomings over the past few weeks.

John and Linda arrived at noon, a typical middle-class suburban white couple. They were closing in on middle age, both of them bearing a few wrinkles and grey hairs and carrying just a little bit of flab. Past their prime? Sure. But by no means were they frumpy or ugly. Payment had been upfront; $7500 for the full treatment on both of them, and Barton was more than happy to oblige.

“Our neighbors had nothing but good things to say about this place,” John explained as Barton led the couple towards the Testing Chamber. “We figured we would treat ourselves to something nice, y’know?”

“John is always spoiling me,” Linda said, reaching out to give her husband a playful slap on the shoulder.

“Anything for my special lady!” John leaned forward to give his wife a quick peck on the lips. “Would you like to go first, hun?”

“Of course! Ladies first!” She laughed as Barton opened the door to the sterile Treatment Chamber.

As soon as the two men entered the shielded Control Room Barton took a quick inhale, preparing to go off into his prepared speech; alternate realities, the nature of his invention, all of the boring technical details that helped prelude the inevitable first question that all of his clients wanted to ask:

“So you can do… anything?”

Barton had briefly considered condensing all of this into something more informative than the pamphlets offered in the lobby, but detailing the nature of his valued invention would undoubtedly draw the wrong kind of attention. The outdated control computer was already humming to life, with diagnostic reports blinking across the CRT monitor letting them know that everything was in working order. John seemed like he needed a minute to think, to process the implications of what he had just been told… and Barton needed to warm up the machine anyway. They were looking at Linda through the reinforced observation window, conflict playing out across her husband’s face; sometimes the clients needed a little push in the right direction to get over their inherent distrust of super-science.

“How about a fitness package to start?” Barton suggested, his fingers already tapping away at the keyboard. “Ever imagined what Linda would be like if she was, say, a runner?”

Fat melted off of Linda’s body, her figure slimming down dramatically as all of that extra chub vanished, only to be quickly replaced with carefully sculpted and sharply defined muscles. She was trim, fit, with powerful legs that could carry her for miles and miles. Her core was shredded, abs poking through, stomach tight and her hip bones forming a perfect ‘V’ with her legs. Her clothes began to shift, outfit turning into something more appropriate to her new athletic pursuits. Gone was the conservative blouse and shapeless pants, replaced with a designer tank top and eye-catching leggings bearing an interesting swirling purple design. Both clung to her improved body, which also helped to display another minor detail; Linda’s breasts had shrunk with the rest of her, the extra heft and sagginess brought on by fat and motherhood now gone. Instead, her sports bra did a perfect job of compressing her bee sting bust and accenting her pecs, making her chest flat but perky.

Her memories changed, and all those days fretting over her slowing metabolism were gone. Those long nights spent during the exam crunch when she had binged on junk food, her stressful first few weeks at her sales job, even the freshman fifteen that she had put on… To Linda, she had always been athletic. It came naturally to her, and she had been the star on the cross country running team both in high school and through college. She probably could have continued her training and done it professionally, but marriage and two kids slowed her down more than she would’ve liked, but at least her physique hadn’t suffered like so many of her friends. Linda managed to shed the pregnancy weight with ease, and avoided the stress pounds that parenthood had gifted her husband. Running had always just been a very dedicated hobby, and her family and career took precedence over it.

A different woman stood in the Testing Chamber, one John was almost unfamiliar with; it felt like a glimpse into what could have been, but he had to admit that it was jarring to see. He had always been attracted to his wife, despite the obvious toll that age and parenthood had taken on both of them. He hated to admit it, but he felt… intimidated? John knew that she would be thrilled by the changes if she was able to notice them, but couldn’t help but feel that his wife of fifteen years was now very suddenly out of his league. As if on cue Barton piped up, the scientist having recognized that look from other hesitant clients.

“Feelings of inadequacy are normal,” he said, offering his best version of a sympathetic smile. “After the change, Linda has what it takes to be an Olympic runner. Or, well, had. I didn’t adjust her age so she’s a little past her prime, but she can still run circles around the both of us!”

Barton chuckled and John began to visibly relax, the older man’s hands settling on his slightly pronounced belly bulging the front of his polo shirt.

“Yeah, maybe it won’t be so bad once I get my turn in there,” John said.

“You can swap places with your wife whenever you’re ready!” Barton replied, already moving to power down the machine to allow the safe change of subjects.

“Hold on.”

Barton looked over at his client, seeing John shift his weight back-and-forth from one foot to the other. He wore his indecision plainly, and Barton’s fingers hovered over his keyboard; they usually all came to the same conclusion, and it seemed John was no different. The creases on his face deepened for a moment before his lips parted and he let out a long, low sigh.

“I think I’d like to change something else.”