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Ambiorn Happy, Danish Artist.
Wednesday 30'th of November 2022 • Week of 49

Can I have your body?

© Ambiorn Happy

Disappointed with my new body, number 3 in a row since I got old and burnt out by cancer, then stabbed in the chest one night by my butler, Mister Orvald. The doctors fixed me up, filled more blood in the boiler, but the cancer they could not save me from.

Therefore, I forgave my butler, or at least I focused on saving myself. That night, I switched bodies with a young girl who was all too sad to live.

But I did not feel comfortable in that depressed body of hers, even though she was young and out of a rich family, and I enjoyed touching my naked body in the night, carefully exploring the sensations in my breasts and the moist lips around my vagina. It was not comfortable to be in a depressed body, no. Therefore, I switched to a healthy Mexican who needed the money for his son's heart surgery and as well financial support for his wife and daughters at home.

Unfortunately, I was caught by the police in a raid on the darker side of Hollywood Boulevard and, the next morning, deported to a village in Mexico - poor, homeless, and surrounded by crazy drug barons. Just like Hollywood in fact, but I left the Mexican village and travelled back to New York. Quite a trip, took me several weeks on foot and hitchhiking with cars and trucks.

Then, I changed body as fast as I could when I got back. I carefully selected it from the suggestions at the donation center. A black woman in Harlem, a little overweight with heavy breasts, but younger around 42, and with a decent face. Her asking for 20 grand in return for the body also seemed noble. Her 10-year-old boy could use that money to maybe attend high school when he grew up.

Unfortunately, my body number 3 was a mistake. Her body was not okay at all, I realize that now. I do not understand how it happened. In the donation center's pictures, I had overlooked her navel. It was quite strange. Maybe I thought she was just a little thick on her stomach. But as I stepped out of the shower and wiped my body, I noticed it, hitting it with my hand.

It is like a bag with two pounds of cheese in it. The navel is extended to half a hand's width, and then the bag is put on with machine sewing. Ugly.

I pat the bag and try to feel if it can ever disappear, or if I should always be ashamed of my stomach. Keep away from the beach. Be abstinent and never again be erotic with another human being. Plastic surgery is not an option for this body. A poor, colored woman in a ruined neighborhood where men on the street offer food stamps for half price.

Including my original body, this is body number 4. In fact, is is quite strenuous to change bodies, although the procedure is practically both bloodless and swift. I sighed deeply. Took on a dress, a jacket and a scarf. Too bad for that kid.

"Where are you going, mother?"

The boy has just awake, curly hair, a white T-shirt and shorts.

"I'm sorry, my son, I have to go." My words make him confused, but I find the envelope with the banknotes on the shelf in the kitchen cupboard. Gave it to him.

"Take good care of this. Save your money for high school, you will need money to get an education."

Then I take the bus down to the center, determined to switch to a new body again as soon as possible. I doubt I can get anything for this old one, not with that navel. Maybe a few thousand, but otherwise they can decompost it for my sake, or give it away to a homeless person without teeth and several prison stays behind him. I was not born into this world to save anyone, I just want to save myself and get a new body as soon as possible.

At the center, my donation specialist seems surprised. He tries to persuade me to consider the facts of life.

"You can learn to live with that navel. That's how it is. We all have small flaws that we have to live with."

"It's not a navel, it's a bag of water. A fucking bag of cheese." I look at him angrily, dismissively, getting knobby and a little hysterical. Finally, I refuse to go into any usual investigations. I claim I will sue him if he does not help me get a new body here and now. It's just empty words because my body has no money for either lawsuits or appearences in court. Still, he consoles me because I am a good customer and he will not lose me.

The following hour, I look at fresh bodies. Young girls who are tired of living. Nothing for me, really. Regardless of their luxurious bodies and healthy hair, I quickly scroll past them. I have no interest in living with anxiety, insecurity, and low self-esteem. Too much trouble I think, and it did not end happily last time either.

"I want to be a man. Strong, harmonious, successful. White. Irish, Catholic maybe if possible."

My specialist types on the computer, and suddenly a nice guy appears on the screen. Blonde. Broad shoulders. A beautiful, relaxed face.

"Peter is looking for a way out of his relationship, just got in."

"And the price?" I ask uncertainly. "His body is amazing."

"Calm down. You still have a sensible balance in your original donation account, but Peter here, he's free. There are some special circumstances surrounding Peter, he wants to give his body away without any fee and does not want another body. We will therefore only debit our standard fee to your donation account."

Spontaneously, I say no. There must be something seriously wrong with the body, but my specialist tells me that Peter has a reasonable cause to give away his body. Love. He loves the wife, 27 years old. He is successful in his job as a seller of luxury boats. They live in a big house on the coast. Good and sound relatives. But he cannot give the love to his wife that he thinks she deserves, and he loves her so much that he cannot leave her.

Love? Most people give up the body due to financial hardship, disability of some sort, or depression. Often, all things at the same time. My specialist connects me with him.

"Will you help me?" Peter asks. "Do you want to love my wife, I can not figure it out. It's something sexual. Unfortunately, we do not fit together." Peter looks at me seriously. My specialist stands discreetly next to the screen and lets us talk almost privately together.

"How do you not fit together?"

"My wife, she has a very strong sex drive, but I do not desire her body. Do you understand what I mean?"

"You like men?"

Peter shakes his head, smiles a little. "No, I'm all to women, always, and I love sex, but I do not want my wife. She's so nice, but I think she's too mechanical when we make love. Most mornings I wake up with my - yes, put it out straight- my cock in her mouth and she gives me a blowjob which ends just before the alarm clock rings. Completely mechanical. She's good at kissing my cock, but I think there's too much autopilot in her. I do not want her, I can not give her the love she deserves. "

I nod. I could live with a woman like that. We make the deal. I'm confident. We swap our bodies at night between 2 and 3 o'clock, at which time we all sleep deeply. Looking forward to waking up to a new day, in a new body.

It's very satisfying, my new life. Maria wakes me up with a great blowjob. We have breakfast on the terrace, overlooking the sea. Then I drive to work down by the harbor. Introducing myself as Peter, it's not hard to get used to being in a new body. Partly because of the comfortable life, but also because I have studied Peter on video. Very quickly, I feel like Peter. Maybe the soul sits in the body, we are our bodies, no? Well, I'm Peter, and that's nice. I meet interesting people, most of them rich. They smell good. Selling one boat a week, sometimes two boats. Make good money. Coming home for dinner which my sweet, beloved Maria has cooked with precision.

The months go by. Everything repeats itself day by day, it becomes dull and tedious. One morning I'm trying to change our rituals. Pushing my head in between her legs to lick her clitoris while she is kissing my cock. There is a strange sound in my ears, a hydraulic sound from her thighs.

My tongue is doing a great job licking Maria. She gets a huge orgasm, she says.

The next morning we repeat ourselves. What is that sound she has in her thighs? I laugh to myself and hug her afterwards. Kissing her neck as gently and sincerely as possible. There is a sound in her neck too!

That day, I stay home. We love, kiss, and talk. Eat good food, which we for once make together, and drink good red wine from California. She tells me the whole story. There was money for three bodies, approximately, but already after the first body, her account was empty. Her legs were broken, and her face was shattered. A tragedy.

As an act of kindness and professional courtesy, the donation center had given her a body made out of silicone and powered by hydraulic pumps. That way, she became part of an experiment. A life without feeling and sensing as a human being. A life where love and sex are driven by reason, rules and rational programming.

"So, your body is mechanical?"

"Yes, my beloved, I am sorry. My love for you is real, it is!, and I think you have only become more beautiful, more loving and wonderful in recent months. I love you dearly and it makes me so unhappy that I only have this artificial body to offer you."

"Because they cheated on you, and now you can not switch to a new body? No more money in your original donation account?"

Maria nods with her feet folded up on the sofa. Her nightgown is transparent. So lovely breasts, so soft a pussy that smiles to me with its pink petals through the opening to her arousing vagina which holds my dick in a grip as precise as a loving hug.

It will not work, no. I will not live with Maria. Not with a robot, though she is very loving to me. Should I leave her? No, I will not. In her mind, she loves me and I have compassion for her.

"I love you," I tell her. "If you want a body again, I can help you because I still have money in my account."

Maria lifts her face curiously. She listens observantly as I talk about my plan.
The next morning I wake up early in Maria's body. We changed bodies last night, my specialist arranged it as a favor to me, and because at the same time we made an agreement to buy a new body from him and throw this body out. The last donation I can afford.

Peter raises an eyebrow and then looks curiously at me. For a moment, the facial expression resembles that of Maria, but then she merges with her new body. Becomes Peter. There are still a few minutes before we have to get out of bed, so I pull the cover aside and kiss his cock. It creaks in my skull and I can hear many different hydraulic pistons and wires inside me. It is unbearable to live with that noise. Then he comes in my mouth. Wondering where that sperm disappears in my body? Maybe some kind of oil to lubricate some of my gears?

At the lawyer's office, our divorce is signed. Peter gets everything. He radiates like the sun. Fondles himself. Grabs his crotch with an expression both of vulgarity and enthusiasm. Grabs his upper arms, the muscles. The lawyer whispers to me that I should be happy to get rid of such an inflated and egocentric man.

Peter gives me the keys to Maria's little car, and I drive home to New York. Picking up the equipment at the donation clinic for the last body swap of my life. Closes my account with them.

"You just click here," my specialist explains."Press once, or several times, it works regardless. Get rid of it afterwards. It's not completely acceptable to swap bodies with people who do not have... Well, let's not talk about it anymore. Thank you for the collaboration," he says. We shake hands and I drive into Manhattan.

It's a lovely day, sunshine. The car stops with a gentle squeal from the brakes outside my house. It has 4 floors, a tiny front garden, a gate with lattice welds, and a door phone that I activate.

"Carlsen residency, how can I help you?"

"It's me, I'm home again, Orvald. Let me in."

My butler leans forward and studies me in detail. He's not used to seeing me in the shape of a young woman. His eye appears large and fills the small screen at the lattice gate. There are wrinkles, but he appears to be in a fair health.

"Never seen you before. How can I help? We don't buy anything."

My dream is that people will recognize me no matter what body I am wearing, but that may be too much to ask. I take out the clicker. My sweet butler, who served me so well all those years while I lived as Carlsen, and who now just strolls about in my big house and drinks all my good wine, he's going to be surprised.

"Thank you mister Orvald, you were always a good butler to me. For the rest of my life, I'll make sure you'll never miss a thing! Drink my wine, use my jacuzzi, empty my fridge, you'll never go to bed hungry, I promise."

I am completely moved by my words which are both to his body, and in a brief moment, spoken to myself. I have love for Mister Orvald. In a backwards way, he saved me from dying of cancer when he stabbed me with a knife. In a moment, he will save me once again.

My words make Mister Orvald straighten his back. He looks surprised. He smiles friendly to me. I smile back. Pressing the clicker in my hand.

Like blinking with an eye, I'm him. My butler. I straighten the shirt collar, and open a button. He liked the shirt to be tight, I don't. My shirt should be open at the neck. Feel my shoulders, slightly bend my knees, stretch me. It feels okay, I think I'm going to love this body.

Looking at the screen in my hallway. Maria's face looks at me in the street on the door phone. Mister Orvald looks confused as the facial expressions change and he merges with Maria. I smile at her.

"Right now you're confused, Mister Orvald. Your name is Maria. Have a good one."

Now I'm my own butler, and I want to make myself a pot of good tea and eat a fresh piece of Danish. I turn off the screen and go humming into the kitchen.

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Danish Artist: Can I have your body (sexy story)

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