Foreclosure (Story Mode Reward Story) (Patreon)

Thank you for the support. I hope you enjoy this one. (Disclaimer: this is not intended to be rascist in anyway. The character is supposed to struggle going from a white character to a character of color)

Foreclosure

Shifting nervously in his seat, Dale feels a bead of sweat roll down his face. Watching the blood-sucking Lawyer on the other side of the desk quietly look through some legal papers, Dale knows he’s gone and got himself into hot water.

Pulling at the collar of this crinkly half-ironed button shirt, he waits patiently for any indication of what’s going to happen to him.

A week ago, Dale knowingly fed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich to a customer in his deli whom he actively dislikes. That person went into shock and almost died and now is suing for all he’s worth.

The problem is that Dale is broke and living off credit cards—so there isn’t much to offer in compensation other than the business he holds so dear to his heart.

“Now, Mr Smith,” The Lawyer says, clearing his throat as he continues to flip through the documents. “You understand that you’re fortunate not to be going to court for this?”

Feeling his larger-than-life stomach being barely kept in by the buttons on his shirt, he breaths in and shifts. “Yes, sir,” he answers.

The Lawyer nods as he continues to stare down at one page in particular. Letting out another cough, the Lawyer looks up past the rim of his round glasses and stares at Dale with a grimace. “Seems they’ve given you two acceptable options to avoid going to court for potential manslaughter.”

Dale wipes the now many beads of sweat from his brow and leans forward. Being a little unfit, he begins to pant and breathe heavily. “Which are?” he asks frantically.

Calm, the Lawyer pushes his glasses up his nose and looks down at the papers in front of him. “Option one is to foreclose on your property and business and relinquish control to the plaintiff.”

Dale shifts nervously in his seat. That outcome is what he’s been fearing the most. The deli has been in his family for years, and he’s got several members of staff who rely on him for work. Just hearing those words sends shivers down his spine.

The Lawyer looks up and sees Dale has gone completely pale. “Stay with me, Mr Smith. I’d prefer it if you didn’t faint in my office for a second time.”

Almost frozen with fear, Dale just stares at one single point and doesn’t say a word. All he can think about is how his father would roll in his grave if he knew he’d lost the deli.

“Option two,” The Lawyer continues, tapping at the papers with his pen. “The plaintiff would also be satisfied if the defendant agreed to a swapping of physical bodies on a permanent basis.”

Somewhat confused at what’s being proposed, Dale snaps out of his daze. “Say that again,” he says, pulling a face.

“A swapping of physical bodies on a permanent basis,” the Lawyer says, uptight that he’s had to repeat himself.

“Would that mean I get to keep my home and business?” Dale asks, excited by the prospect of keeping the deli.

Looking over the rim of his glasses once again, the Lawyer gives him a stern expression. “….Yes…,” he says slowly.

“Option two, then, please!”

“Mr Smith…,” the Lawyer says arrogantly. “You can’t possibly be interested in option two. The defendant is twenty years your senior and of African-American descent. Plus, the actual procedure to ‘trade’ bodies is highly experimental.”

The Lawyer then coughs out a chuckle and begins to write. “I’ll put down that we agree to option one.”

“No, thank you,” Dale says, putting his ham hands onto the Lawyer’s expensive mahogany desk.

Annoyed, the Lawyer stares at his hands for a moment before looking up and into Dale’s desperate-looking eyes. “Excuse me?”

“You heard. Swap our bodies—I don’t care. I can’t turf my family out onto the street, and nor can I give up my father’s business!”

Showing himself to be stressed for the first time, the Lawyer takes off his glasses and rubs his face. “You can’t be serious?”

“Very.”

“You’ll be cutting your life short by twenty years, Mr Smith,” the Lawyer clarifies. “Not only will you be another gender, you’ll have to adjust to being another race. Is that really what you want? We have no idea if the defendant has underlying health problems—she could have cancer, and you’d only find out once inside her body.”

“I don’t care,” Dale says avidly. “Nothing is worse to me than losing my family business.”

The Lawyer rolls his eyes. “Okay, then,” he says belligerently. “I’ll tell them that we are agreeing to option two.”

“That does mean I keep my business and home…. Right?”

“Yes, Mr Smith,” the Lawyer answers rudely. “Or should I say—Yes, Mrs Janet Dameera.”

Dale looks confused. “Huh?”

“That’s the defendant's name,” the Lawyer says sarcastically. “Soon to be your name if you agree to swap bodies with her.”

“Weird,” Dale laughs anxiously. “Going to take some getting used to… eh?” Dale awkwardly jokes.

“Indeed,” the Lawyer replies without eye contact. “Won’t be the only thing you’ll ‘have to get used to.’”

A week later…

Dale went ahead with the body swap, much to the real Janet’s surprise. Being a much younger white male, the real Janet was thrilled to learn that she’s gaining twenty years of her life back.

Once the body swap was complete and both Janet and Dale had been kept under observation for a few nights, they were both free to leave and go home.

It wasn’t until Dale got home that the enormity of the situation really hit home for him. The last few days had left like a dream to him—not helped by the strong painkillers the hospital had him on.

“D-Dale?” His wife, Rachel says, is very concerned for her husband, who sits on the edge of their double bed.”

Now a black woman in his mid-forties, wearing a bright pink tracksuit, Dale doesn’t speak at all. He just stares at his wrinkled black hands in despair.

“Dale?” Rachel says again, forcing herself to call the unfamiliar black woman by her husband’s name. “A-are you okay?”

Unable to focus on anything other than the dysmorphia racking his brain, Dale feels strange. It's like he’s seconds from a freakout. His ass is so much more sizable and fatter than before. To him, it’s like he’s sitting on pillows that he can’t take off.

Not only that, but his hips feel wider than a bridge, his chest feels heavier than a sack of potatoes, and he’s suffering from phantom limb disorder thanks to his missing pole.

Rachel goes to touch her now black female husband on the head, and she recoils at the feeling of his greying course hair. “A-anything I can get for you?”

“H-hows the deli?” Dale finally replies, forcing himself to speak through the shock of another’s voice coming from his mouth.

“Good,” Rachel answers, breathing a sigh of relief. “The guys there can’t wait to get you back. They are all keen to support you with your…change.”

“They are?” Dale replies, feeling resistance in his new aging bones. “Even though I’m…. this now?”

Rachel sighs and slumps next to him on the bed. “It’s not that bad,” she says, trying to encourage him. “Least you’re somewhat attractive for an older…. lady. You’re much thinner now, too.”

“Attractive?” Dale asks uncomfortably, having already freaked out several times about how he’s got not got monster tits.

“Y-yeah…” Racheal says, reluctantly touching his cheeks. “You’ve got…erm… very nice skin for a woman of your age. I hope I’m as wrinkle-free as you when I get to my fifties.”

Dale turns to look at his very pale-looking white wife and frowns. “Is that supposed to make me feel better about losing my manhood?”

Rachel blushes and looks away.

“Honestly,” Dale says, frustrated. “How am I supposed to make love to you now. I feel like I’ve been tortured and someone’s cut off my cock for fun. I don’t feel like a man at all anymore—so how on earth am I going to face the guys at the deli, be a father, or even be your husband!?”

“You’ve gotta stop thinking like that,” Rachel says, nervously rubbing her legs. “As much as it was a shock when you told me—I completely understand your choice. You becoming a woman was, I agree… the better outcome for the family.”

“Do you still love me?”

“That’s not fair,” Rachel scolds.

“I still love you.”

Rachel gets off the bed and stands with her back towards Dale. Tears misting her eyes, she forces herself to reply out of respect for the decision her husband made to keep their family together. “Give me time, Dale. This is a lot to adjust to. Right now, I don’t see my husband—I see the woman who almost took everything from us.”

Dale lowers his head, and his wife's words hurt his heart. “I’m sorry.”

“Time,” Rachel replies with a sob. “Just give me time to warm up to how you look now.”

“Okay.”

Seconds pass as the two barely say a word. Not wanting to end the conversation and leave his wife upset, Dale works up the courage to say what’s on his mind.

“I’ve been looking at strap-ons,” he says uncomfortably. “I know it won’t be the same, but we can still make love like we used to.”

Rachel looks back at her husband in the body of an older black woman and frowns. “Still thinking about sex,” she says, letting out a long breath. “I guess I should be thankful your personality is still the same,” she says with a chuckle.

Looking her husband up and down, taking every detail, she says. “We might have to make a few changes to your appearance. You look like a grandma in that sweat suit. We need to get you nicer clothes if I’m going to be attracted to you as a woman.”

Dale looks down at himself in the pink sweatsuit and sighs, “Yeah, what am I wearing! I feel like the bra I’ve been given is like two sizes too small for the tits I’m sporting.”

Rachel stands in front of Dale and smiles. “Yeah, Jesus,” she says, commenting on her husband’s new breasts. “What size are they. They look massive!”

“I’ve got back ache.” Dale sighs. “I assume that means they are too big.”

“Probably,” Rachel laughs impolitely. “So fucking weird that we are having this conversation.”

“I know,” Dale laughs. “What's worse is I haven’t yet built up the courage to look at what I’ve now got between my legs.”

“Have you had the urge to touch it yet?” Rachel asks with a playful expression. “You must be curious?”

Dale gives his wife a condescending look and shakes his head. “I’m not going anywhere near it until I’m ready.”

“She hasn’t got any kids, has she?” Rachel asks. “I bet your vagina is in pretty good shape. I wonder if you're tight?”

“Rachel!” Dale scolds, unwilling to discuss his new private. “I don’t want to think about that!”

Giggling at her husband’s reaction, Rachel replies, “You’re going to have to get over it quickly. If you’ve got any questions or if you want to borrow any of my sanitary stuff, just ask.”

Rachel instantly goes bright red with embarrassment. “Wait, do you think your body has started the menopause?”

“Great,” Dale says, folding his arms. “Now I’m not going to sleep tonight. Thanks, Rachel.”

“Why?”

“I’m going to worry about periods and all that crap—that’s why.”

“Oh, Dale….,” Rachel says with a gentle smile. “Don’t worry about it. If your daughter can deal with it, I’m sure you can.”

“Good point,” Dale agrees but looks a little freaked out. “Weird that we have that in common now.”

“Those things in common,” Rachel says, sitting back down on the bed. “Might make it easier to rebuild your relationship with her.”

“You think so?”

“Sure. Maybe once they’ve got comfortable with your being a woman, you can take her shopping. I’m sure she’d be happy to help you buy a new wardrobe more suited to a woman of your…… stature.”

“That sounds awful…,” Dale sighs. “I don’t want to talk to my daughter about what panties and bras I need. I don’t even want to have the conversation myself!”

“One step at a time,” Rachel smiles. “Anyways, shall we go introduce the new you to the kids, or would you like to nap?”

“Nap?”

“Yeah,” Rachel giggles. “I know you older ladies like your beauty sleep,” she teases.

“Don’t make me put you over my knee, young lady!” Dale laughs, playing on the fact he’s now old enough to be his wife’s mother.

“Well…,” Rachel grins. “That’s different.”

“It’s all different,” Dale quips. “Hopefully, we can learn to… love it?”

“Maybe,” Rachel replies with blushing cheeks. “Maybe…..”