Date: 20 Jul 2005 17:10:35 -0000
From: chomas (at) phreaker (dot) net
Subject: The Bracelet - Series 1 Episode 3 [Gay > Adult-Youth]

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                             ^%%  SERIES 01 - EPISODE 03  %%^

                              ... Hair Cut ...

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                       =:   D I S C L A I M E R   :=


  This work of fiction may contain references to sexual conduct between
  minors and consenting adults. If this is illegal in your area of
  residence you are advised to leave - you are breaking the law.

  The characters, story and occurances in this document are purely
  fictional, and any resemblence or relation to real life situations or
  people living or dead is, frankly, fucked up.



             =:   I N T E L L E C T U A L   P R O P E R T Y   :=

  This story is held under the intellectual property of "Chomas", which
  means it may not be distributed in whole, or in part, without express
  written permission from the author. You may not print, copy, mirror or
  in any other way distribute this for the purposes of public consumption
  or monetary gain.


                        =:   T H E   A U T H O R   :=

  In the words of Stranger, "You gotta light the stove to warm the pan".
  And I hope this episode lights your stove, because it gets a helluva
  lot more interesting from here ...

  I'm sorry, the wrong e-mail address for me sneaked into the last
  episode. If you sent anything to "chomas@hotmail.com", I have no idea
  who the poor guy is, and could you please send it again to the
  address below? Thanky.

    -- Chomas <chomas AT phreaker DOT net>


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            =:   S 0 1 E 0 3   -   H A I R   C U T   :=


  I woke up around 3am with the television quietly in the background. I
  pulled my uncomfortable frame out of the chair and stumbled to the
  bathroom to relieve myself. I never liked waking up in the armchair,
  I rubbed my aching shoulder while comically shaking my dead leg to
  relieve the pins and needles.

  With my business finished, I ran my hands through my hair as I turned
  round to find a place to rest my head again. Now I remember this bit
  very clearly, and almost a thousand things flew into my head at once,
  instantly drawing together an undeniable conclusion that knocked me
  (literally) onto my ass in the bathtub within a second. And it went
  like this.

  I have a shaved head, grade two. I used to have a lot more hair than
  that, so running my hands through my "hair" wasn't an immediate shock
  - I even muttered to myself about needing a hair cut before it kicked in.
  I've now got a full head of hair. Just as it occured to me I shot my
  eyes up to meet the passing mirror as I was turning around to go to bed.
  As my body kept spinning my mind began to join it as I realised the hair
  in my hand is blonde, quite long, and surrounding the angelic face of
  a green-eyed eleven year old boy. My hair, my face.

  Now at this point my mind was reeling in a semi-dream state and my brain
  forgot to tell my body to stop spinning, at which point I collided with
  the side of the bathtub and had no real motivation to try and stop
  myself. BAM. I thudded into the bath, banging my head against the back
  tiles, giving me a good waking jolt in the process.

  I was definitely awake, definitely eleven, and definitely quite good
  looking. What .. the .. hell ..

  I spent the next half an hour very slowly taking in the view of the
  full length mirror. I checked all over my "new body" trying to get to
  grips with what was going on. I ran my hands over my face and chest,
  my mouth gaping through most of the process. Then it occured to me to
  talk.

  "Fucking hell," I said in a loud voice. I immediately started laughing,
  hearing such a vehement expletive in such a sweet voice. I was quite
  high-pitched, but with a tiny croak echoing behind it.

  "Man, this is so weird, I can't believe this is happening. I mean what
  the.." as I carried on a monologue for the next 20 minutes, pacing
  around my flat in continuous circles, my conversation pretty much doing
  the same thing.

  Taking a step back, I tried to think about this as detached as possible
  to get an overall idea. Okay, implications first of all.

  No work.

  Heh, now that's something I could live with for a while.

  No car, no driving, no income.

  That stung.

  No cigarettes or wine.

  I winced again. Less to spend money on though.

  No flat, no business meetings, in fact nothing an adult can do.

  That was definitely a problem. I was effectively homeless and there
  wasn't a lot I could do about it. But maybe that's what I needed was a
  totally fresh start in life, and there were plenty of charities and
  government schemes to help homeless eleven year olds. With total memory
  loss, no history, no paperwork, in fact no sign of existance prior to
  this. Now that would take a lot of explaining, and I smiled inwardly
  knowing I would be the last person who'd have to!


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      Authored:  09-Jul-05                 By:  Chomas <@phreaker.net>
      Special thanks to the Nifty Archives for hosting my publications

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