“Look, I told you to stop worrying. This can get is a lot closer, and even if it doesn’t we had fun, right?”

Heather looked to her wife Marisa with a frown that could match any of the other woman’s sunny smirks. Marisa was the light of her life, but and she knew she would get her to cave eventually. The vivacious Latina had her ways, and knew Heather’s weaknesses all too well. But Heather had to at least make a token attempt. “But a game show? Really? When did this even start?”

She looked up to the stage that Marisa had led them to. It was outdoors, and she would have preferred something private and inside, not sitting in an open field. But she had to give it credit, it had the customary lights and sounds and video cameras. Up above the stage, a large sign said “HouseMates!” in bold letters. A crowd was even forming behind them, though that made her feel even more nervous.

“I’ve never heard of this show before,” she muttered disapprovingly.

“So, it’s new!” Marisa shrugged. “That’s just means we’ll be getting an exclusive experience! Plus it’ll be before they know how much is too much to give away.”

“New is one thing, weird is another,” Heather whispered as if nervous about gossip, even though none of the crowd was anywhere close enough to hear her criticisms. She eyed the wide, green and leafy environment with barely hidden anxiety. “What kind of homemaking game show sets itself in the middle of nowhere?”

“According to the people I talked to, this just a small scale show so they can vet for a big studio version.” Marisa said, shrugging off the other woman’s fears. “But as far as I can tell it’s all legit. They didn’t even ask for money.”

Heather wasn’t sure how “legit” this all was. If anything, that sounded even more suspicious. It seemed far too good to be true. But then, Marisa was far more savvy than herself when it came to this sort of thing, so surely she would have seen all these angles already. Was it really possible? “And we can really win a house if we go through with this?”

“If we keep winning,” Marisa said smugly. She wrapped her arm around Heather and pulled her close, chuckling at the way her wife squeaked in response. “This is what we’ve always wanted, love! Four walls. A picket fence. A future. It’s all ripe for the plucking.” She stopped, enticed by her own choice of phrase, and decided she liked where the train of thought was going. She gave Heather’s behind a playful squeeze, laughing again at the predictable gasp. “Like some other things I could mention.”

“M-marisa! There are people watching?”

Marisa let her butt go, but kept up the charm. “Like you care,” she whispered into Heather’s ear.

Heather shivered. Maybe she didn’t.

“Are ye two ready to play?”

No matter how charming she was, even Marisa was self-conscious enough to jump back as the host appeared. True they had been distracted, but it was so fast both could have sworn no one had even been there a second before.

For a split second, the host looked to Heather like a young woman - what with the clear curves cutting through their loud, purple zoot suit, and the spritely, salon-quality purple-accented bob cut, along with the feminine tone of their thick Irish accent - but… no. Clearly she was mistaken: who could think such a thing when he sported such a luxurious, unmistakably manly handlebar mustache? It was the finest mustache either woman had ever seen! There was something illusive about about it. Something, shall we say, magical…

She and Marisa were snapped out of their idolizing stares, as the clearly quite manly host continued to speak while putting on a pose that showed off his generous bustline.

“Ye lot are up next!” He grinned. “Hope yer ready!”

“… yes,” Heather said uncertainly. “But what are we supposed to do?”

“That’ll all be explained onstage, don’t ye worry!” The host swooped around behind them and shoved them around the back, up towards the stage entrance with surprising strength for a man the size and shape of a teenage girl, though maybe one around college age. “Come on, now!”

He pushed too hard, and the two stumbled over the stairs. Marisa turned to give him a very ugly look, but he wasn’t looking, and they got the point and made their way to the “waiting area” (or just the area behind the curtain) fast enough that he couldn’t get behind them again. There was already a pair waiting there: a very tall, amazonian blonde who was impatiently tapping her feet and looking out to the stage, joined by a petite, much more nervous looking woman with the same kind of hair and a similar face. They were sisters, for sure.

Heather didn’t know what kind of contest they were in, but she did know it didn’t cost anything to be polite. She walked up to the pair and held out her hand. “I guess we’re going up against each other! Good luck, I suppose!”

The taller woman sneered down at Heather. “Good luck?” She said, with a mild Italian accent. “We are going to OWN you, bitch!”

Heather withdrew her hand, needless to say. The smaller woman hopped up to them to smooth things over. “S-sorry about my sister, she’s just-“

“Don’t apologize to this loser!” The tall woman snapped. “Her ass is going to be MINE by the time we’re through, and you know it!” She looked back at Heather. “Bet you’ll look hot on my living room floor.”

Heather was offended to say the least, and tried to awkwardly excuse herself, but Marisa didn’t take kindly to all this talk about her wife. She stomped up to the woman (though she may have shoved Heather aside while doing so) and got right up in her face. “Vete pa’l carajo!” She snarled. “You are going down!”

Heather was worried now. This woman looked like she was raring for a fight, and she knew Marisa wouldn’t disappoint if Heather’s honor was on the line. It was a sweet gesture, but not a wise one. Luckily, they were saved a brawl when the host finally called for the next contestants from outside. The tall woman arched back and pushed towards the stage, only looking back to give one last parting insult.

“See you on the rack, losers!”

The woman’s sister muttered another apology and shuffled behind her. Marisa glared after them. Heather could practically see her steaming.

“Own us? That bitch,” Heather heard her growl, though Marisa might not have known she was being so obvious. ”What was all that about? We’ll see who owns who…”

This was getting off to a swimming start. Heather sighed as she followed her glowering wife onto the stage, and she only hoped it wouldn’t get any worse from here. All they had to do was answer a few questions, win a few prizes and not totally humiliate themselves on whatever timeslot this program would be airing to.

Since they were the last to leave, everyone was already set up and waiting for them. The host - manly man that he was - was standing behind a brightly colored podium facing them, and not the audience. It was a smaller crowd than Heather feared, but still bigger than she hoped, and she was already not looking forward to spending the rest of the afternoon in front of them. To their side, the rude blonde and her sister were already in place: the blonde towering over a larger, electronic looking counter while the sister huddled into a smaller one to the side.

There was a similar pair of counters in front of them, and as they walked forward the host pointed at them and spoke over the murmur of the crowd. “They’ve arrived! Then first thing’s first. The first person, that is. Who’s going?”

Marisa and Heather shared a look. “What?”

“You don’t both answer at the same time!” The host laughed. The rude woman laughed, a lot nastier. And thinking that was a thing, the audience laughed a little with them. Heather flushed with embarrassment. “That would get too crazy! One of you goes first, and the other will be your ‘team’s’ reserve.”

There was another shared look between them. That seemed simple enough. Looking back at the other pair, it was clear the blonde battle axe was in the “answerer’s” spot. She pointed at them, and with a smirk jabbed down at her shoes.

Now Marisa was flushing too, but not with embarrassment. “Then it’ll be me for us.” She said out loud, and privately she hissed to Heather. “This haughty bitch is going down!”

“Just don’t get too ahead of yourself.”

Marisa glared at her, but it looked like she took the advice. It was hard to tell with her sometimes. As she and Heather walked up to their respective podiums, a bright glow shot up from under all four counters. Suddenly it felt like something - electricity, maybe - crackled through the air around them, making it heavy somehow. It must have been just a nervous chill as the game began, Heather thought. Marisa had already shrugged it off, so she decided to try to as well. After all, given the rules it looked like she wouldn’t have to be doing anything but standing around unless Marisa choked, and that suited her just fine.

After the glow dissipated, each contestant’s booth lit up with word or phrase. Marisa’s booth said LOVESEAT-A, while Heather’s said COFFEE TABLE. The amazon got MATTRESS on hers, and sister’s counter said CURTAINS.

“What’s with the word jumbles, do you think?” Marisa whispered to her. Heather couldn’t see her own booth, but she knew Marisa could. It was obvious to all that none of them were without one.

She shrugged. “Maybe it’s what we’re playing for. Like, what we’ll win this round.”

“Close!” The rude woman barked, grabbing their attention. When they looked at her, curious, she just smirked and turned back to the host.

“We’re all settled!” The host bellowed, pumping his hand so that the crowd would do the same. “We can start our first game of the day! So welcome… to HouseMates! The game where everyone can quite literally make their dreams themselves!” The audience cheered. Marisa raised a fist, revealing in the energy. Heather could have done without it.

The host suddenly hopped away from the podium, and was at the other side in a heartbeat. He took a swipe to pat the rude woman on the back - kind of low, since she was so tall and he was around the size of a college girl - but she dodged. He looked disappointed, but kept on hosting. “In a surprise: choosing to return after two straight days of wins, it’s Zari DeLetto and her sister Cocco!” She gestured over to the opposite side of the stage, and the rude woman - Zari - poked her busty chest out with pride. “It’s a shock to see you back,” the host chuckled to himself, “never had someone as eager about this as I am.”

“I’m going for the whole home and garden set,” Zari snarled down at him, “and you’re not gonna stop me! They’re not gonna stop me! Nobody’s gonna stop me!” To her side, her sister Cocco nervously shrunk a little further away, glancing back and forth to the front podium, but the host just smiled at them as if he knew better.

“I’m looking forward to seeing you try!” He said with a chuckle that made Heather and Marisa feel like shuddering. Something felt off about him, but they couldn’t tell what. And the look the sister was giving them, kind of helpless and anxious, made it worse.

After the banter, the host turned to Heather and Marisa. Knowing what was coming Marisa prepared to dodge the clap on the back, but he had other ideas. He suddenly jumped into the air and landed on her other side, surpassing her with a hard pat. Even Zari was surprised. “Can’t fool me twice!” He laughed. “And meet our challengers! Heather and Marisa, a loving married couple looking to build up towards a quaint little future! Hopefully they don’t put more of themselves into it than they expect!”

The crowd burst with laughter, though Heather wasn’t sure why. Neither she nor Marisa had any idea where the joke was in what the host said, though they silently agreed that something about it sounded strange.

Suddenly, the host was back at the podium. “In case you don’’t know the rules, here we go! Each round, our two primary contestants will answer a series of questions. Home and garden, comfortable living, that sort of thing. You get everyone gets four-” As he said this, four lights appeared on Marisa and Zari’s podiums. “-chances. Once those chances are exhausted, you are out and your opponent gets their prize!” At this Zari turned to Marisa with another of her creepy, almost possessive smirks. Marisa just snarled back. “But no worries, that’s why your reserve is here! They can then play on for you or buy your way back to them… in a manner of speaking… unless they choose to quit. And once this head to head is over, the next game begins! Simple, right?”

It definitely was simple, though Heather thought as described it was a little too quick for one game show. Though she supposed those sorts of kinks were what these early runs were supposed to hammer out.

The host turned to the left. “Marisa, are you ready?”

“Oh, yeah!”

Then to the right. “Zari, are you-“

“Yes, already! Just get it over with!”

“Alright! Let play HouseMates!” He whipped out a card and cut straight to the chase. “First question, what is the bed size for two people?”

Marisa slapped down on the booth, and laughed loudly as it made a loud ding sound. “Oh, that’s easy. A standard king!” The booth made a second ding, denoting a right answer. Marisa turned to Heather and winked. “Of course, we have to make due with a queen, but I happen to like the… intimate size.”

The crowd hooted like a bunch of teenagers. Heather blushed a little, enough to satisfy Marisa’s mischievous side at least, but the whole time she was actually focused more on Zari. The Italian woman hadn’t moved at all while Marisa was answering the question, not even to press the buzzer, and that was definitely an easier question.

The host went right on to the next card. “Sorry Zari, but since you missed out on that question that’ll be one of your chances gone!” Zari’s booth made a buzzing sound, and one of her lights went out. She didn’t seem too concerned, and neither did the host. “Next question! Name an easy at-home ingredient that can be used to remove bad smells!”

“Baking soda!” Marisa answered. Her booth made another ding. She turned to Heather again. “Another easy one. Sorry babe, but you sweat at night.”

Marisa was trying to get her fired up, but Heather was still staring at Zari. She hoped her wife didn’t feel jealous, but it was really starting to bug her now. Despite her overcompetitive actions, the woman still hadn’t made any move to win even though she was two chances down. “What’s she up to?” She mumbled to herself. Zari seemed to hear, or maybe she just noticed Heather staring, because she smirked at her. Heather didn’t return the gesture. She knew she came off as mousy, but she wasn’t going to feed into her.

“Question three!” The host didn’t slow down. “What do tulips usually symbolize?”

Marisa hesitated. “Lve, I think?” When she looked at her wife this time, she was actually a little unsure. “That deep kind of love, though. Not the puppy stuff.”

Ding. It was another right answer. And Marisa was getting what she wanted. Heather suddenly felt like she would rather be home exploring some deep love with her wife than here watching her answer questions.

Zari shook her head. She was three lights down, only one left. But she didn’t seem any less confident. “That’s enough playing around,” she said. Marisa didn’t pay her any mind, though. She had already beaten the leggy shrew on three questions, she could easily bring this on home.

The host pulled another card. “Here we go. This could be the game! Generally speaking, how often should one replace their bedshe-“

“Two to three years.”

Ding! Marisa’s eyes bugged out. She could hardly believe it. She didn’t even get a chance to answer! She and Heather turned to Zari, who was now eyeing them with a foul sneer.

“Fifth question!” The host said, surprising them. “Where does the word sofa come fr-”

“Arabic.” Another instant response, followed by a ding and a lost light.

“Sixth question!”

Marisa turned to the host, feeling a bit of panic now. “What, give us a second to-“

“What is Boulle Work?”

“Inlays.” Ding. “Not that you’ll find that on any chintzy loveseat.” Zari added, curling her lip at Marisa. “I think I’ll still take it, though.”

Marisa looked down at her booth. A minute ago she was about to win this thing. Now she only had one chance left, and her opponent was on a roll. Zari glared at her, chuckling with a practiced condescension as she watched her opponent start to squirm. “You see? You’ve got no chance! I come from a long line of handymen and furnishers.  I know practically everything about houses and gardens and furniture. You’re done.” Behind her from their point of view, Cocco looked sadly at them, as if she really wanted to say something but couldn’t bring herself to.

“I’ve still got one of those lights on! And even if you do, we’ll just settle this another way!” Marisa shook her fist as her opponent, clearly too tired of the barbs and arrogance to hold herself back any more. Heather almost jumped over to hold her back, but she decided not to. They could still win this as long as one of them didn’t blow it.

Zari laughed even louder. “You really have no idea, do you? I’m really about to own you, you pillow chested tramp! Your tiny life with your little kitten is over!”

Marisa was taken aback. Even given all the trash talk, Zari still came off as taking this way too seriously. “What the hell are you-“

“This is going to be the final question this round! Someone is getting eliminated now, and the other one’s getting her prize!” The host suddenly declared. No one seemed to be enjoying this more than him. He pulled out the last card, sharing a smile with Zari. The woman gave him a beckoning gesture. Neither Heather nor Marisa enjoyed the familiarity there.

“Go ahead!” Zari said confidently. “I can answer anything better than these idiots.”

“I will!” He host said brightly. “By suggestion, how many-“

“Three!”

Everyone stopped, even the crowd. They all looked at Marisa. She shrugged, smirking with only a little bit of nervousness. Heather groaned. Her wife’s impulsiveness might have just cost them the game.

Zari began to laugh. “Did you seriously just-“

Ding. “Correct!” The host shouted. “It’s suggested that one only keep three sheets at most per person per bed! And that’s a win for the Puerto Rican beauty!”

His evil smile returned, now directed at Zari who was now staring at Marisa completely silent and very stunned. Cocco looked even worse, as she was looking between her sister and the host with heavy, scandalized breaths. “Though for what it’s worth,” he continued on to the losing contestant with an odd glint in his eye. “You might still find that Boulle work on a nice canopy bed.”

Heather was bouncing in her booth. Marisa was watching her, and Heather didn’t even care where her eyes were going in public this time. “That was amazing? How did you know?”

“I didn’t! I guessed!” Marisa said. She looked back at the host. “So, when do I get my mattress, anyway?”

At those words, Zari finally snapped out of it. She had gone very white. “W-wait, no! You’re not getting anything, not from me! I was supposed to win!”

“Hey,” Marisa said. “You snooze, you-“

“Shut up! You don’t get it! Stop the game, I want a do over!” Zari yelled at the host, but whatever familiarity they had seemed to have vanished. He was just staring at her in amusement, arms crossed over what would have been breasts if he were a college girl. “You can’t make me-”

“What a sore loser,” Marisa said, mimicking Zari’s laugh. “There’s no use crying…. about…”

Marisa trailed off in the middle of her mockery, for they all began to notice that things had suddenly turned strange. The crowd started hollering, and Zari’s booth lit up beneath her. The woman stood up straight and rigid, as tall as she was. It was like she was frozen in place, her arms bent upwards like a trident. She stood there for a few seconds, her eyes terrified but her body seemingly unable to move, and then she began to grow…

Her arms and legs were first. They bubbled out bit by bit, starting from her hands and spreading to her shoulders and hips and beyond. It was like she had been strung but the world’s most allergenic bee: each part of her was swelling up to twice, then nearly three times its normal width. Stranger still, her clothes tightened on her but didn’t seem to be restraining the swelling any. If anything they seemed to becoming part of her, fusing to her skin when the tightness finally got to be too much. Both her clothes and her skin were changing color, to a sort of uniform faded gray.

And once they reached a certain size, body and clothing alike flattened out as if they hit an imaginary wall. They stopped in rectangular form, each part of her meeting at a straight line that stayed consistent everywhere.

Cocco put her hands to her mouth to prevent herself from screaming. Marisa and Heather could only watch, barely able to comprehend what was going on.

“What’s happening to her?” Marisa said to the host in shock. “Stop the show, she’s sick or something!”

But the host didn’t move, and Heather gulped. “I don’t think this is an accident, love…” she said. Marisa was freaking out, but she was transfixed.

Zari couldn’t speak, but they could hear her whimpering. She looked like a parody of a person now. She had the shape, but in bulgy blocks. Her hands and feet looked more like painted squares than anything, and their features were fading by the second. Where each part of her stopped, they simply continued to grow in other directions, slowly filling out a box-like shape. Any part of her that met another simply fused together, until she no longer stood on legs as much as a soft slab. Her chest - with her breasts long since flattened away - combined with her waist. Her head disappeared between her arms. Eventually, all of her came together so closely you couldn’t tell any of it apart.

“She… she looks like…” Heather gasped, craning her neck to make sure she was reading Zari’s booth right. She couldn’t deny how she was feeling now. It was almost like excitement. “A mattress!”

Marisa’s jaw dropped. “You mean she’s my prize?”

As Heather realized, Zari was more mattress than woman now. She was one big rectangle, and none of it looked like a person. Now that they knew what they were looking at, it was obvious that that what looked like swelling was fabric, just stuffed and molded fabric. Little details like grooves etched into the sides, solid ones for stability and soft ones for comfort. A bit of extra fabric bunched around the fringes, giving it a very homey touch.

It made a final whimper with the sound of air escaping fluff, and then… nothing whatsoever. A second later the king size flopped to the ground with a soft thud, and the last touch finished up. Zami hair had became a long tag, on which was typed the dimensions of the bed, materials, and a brand name: RimbalZari: The Bounciest Sleep You’ve Ever Had.

The host squealed in delight, with a high-pitched voice very unlike the manly man he clearly was, and leapt onto the bed. He spent the next minute jumping up and down and laughing like a child, while Heather, Marisa and the new mattress’ sister looked on in horror. Finally, he tired out and fell onto his back, splaying his body out onto the comfortable frame of what had been a human, if rude, woman not a minute before. “I love this part!” He giggled, giving the sides of the mattress a little squeeze. “But I probably shouldn’t wear out the merchandise…”

He got to his feet and jumped off the mattress. Somehow he landed right next to Cocco, who had been moaning to herself this whole time. When he landed, she yelped and tried to inch away. “So what’s your answer? What do you want to do now?” He said, as friendly as ever.

“W-what?” She squeaked.

“You’re the reserve, aren’t you? You two have seen this tons of times by now. Do you want to play, or not?” He pointed at the now vacant contestant’s counter. “Do especially well and you might win her back!”

Cocco looked like she would have rather jumped into the ocean. “N-no way! I didn’t even want to do this! It was all her idea…” She looked back at the mattress and shuddered.

“Then the round’s over, and dear Zari joins our collection - as well as all the prizes the DeLotto sisters have won over the past two days!” Cocco looked down at her feet. She didn’t try to dodge as the host clapped her on the back. “But don’t worry, you still have a chance to buy her if you want!”

“You’re going to make her buy back her own sister?” Marisa shouted, outraged. The crowd laughed.

“I’m giving her the opportunity to purchase this fine, quality mattress at what is unfortunately our loser’s price!” The host held out a piece of paper. The number written on there was nearly three times the already extreme cost of a custom, exceptional quality mattress.

Cocco gasped. “B-but I can’t afford that! We’ve got no money. T-that’s why we were here, to win!”

“If you’re refusing the price, then I suppose that’s the game! But it was great having you on here, Cocco! Let’s give her a round of applause!” The crowd erupted into cheers. Heather and Marisa watched as Cocco helplessly trudged off of the stage with her head still down. Under her breath, they could just hear her mutter an “I’m sorry, sister” before she disappeared behind the curtain.

When they turned back, the host was already standing in front of them. “So, your first prize of the day - you can take this fine quality mattress right here, right now! No more ‘intimate’ cuddling on that queen size, unless you want to! And all it takes is just one bonus question!”

Marisa gasped. “No!” Zari may not have been a good person, especially if she was willingly taking part in these insane stakes, but not even Marisa was that spiteful. “I’m not keeping another human being like an object!”

“It’s hardly human now, but okay!” The host snapped his fingers, and a pair of nondescript figures in all black walked on stage and quickly carried the mattress away. “You may not have taken the prize, but you still have the option to buy our extra bouncy mattress for the special discounted winner’s price after the show!” He held out another piece of paper. The price there was almost a tenth of the price he had given Cocco. “Though be warned, items from the collection do go fast. And you also have a chance at all of the other prizes the former Zari won before, including…”

There was a fanfare, and suddenly a big screen that Marisa and Heather didn’t even know was behind them flickered on. On it was a girl who looked a lot like the host, but also looked nothing alike him at all: she had a blonde haircut that almost looked like a wig, but somehow felt real. She was sitting on a sleek grand piano. “This musical marvel, perfect for any study, who ironically used to be a violinist named Mandy!” The screen flickered again, and the girl was now enjoying herself slowly pulling a book in and out of a suggestively shaped bookcase. “Or this novelty addition, who ironically never read a day in her life when she had the chance! Or-”

“Stop it!” Marisa screamed. “I’m not taking any of these poor people! I quit!”

“You said it, honey!” Heather said, though she forced down some disappointment. “Let’s get out of here!”

The two tried to step back from their booths, but when they did a loud buzz sounded, the booths both lit up, and the heavy feeling returned.

“Ah ah, you can’t do that!” The host chided.” Leaving the stage is a forfeit.”

“What are you talking about? We’ve already won!”

“That was just the first game of the day. You don’t cash out with your prizes until you’re the winning contestants at the very end of our show. Or more accurately, the last ones standing. Any premature departure, or speaking about the game to anyone outside of a round, is a forfeit.” The host grinned like a crocodile. “If you forfeit, you’ll just have to take the penalty you would have taken if you lost…”

“No!” Marisa moaned. She looked at Heather with scared eyes, a look that was rare and terrifying on Marisa’s usually confident face. They didn’t have a choice. “I’ll play…”

The host laughed and waltzed back to the podium, and as he did Marisa glanced apologetically at her wife. Heather didn’t let it slide. “All legit, huh?”

“This really isn’t the time!”

And they did play, game after game. The next contestants were a pair of coed roommates, Kacey and Sarah, who were just looking to have some fun during their break. As they were still playing in “the bedroom set” Sarah, an energetic redhead, became a fetching maple wood armoire. Kacey managed to buy her, though she said something about their break being ruined, and she beat a hasty retreat before anything could happen to her too - the host promising to deliver her prize to her dorm room later, in a tone that might have suggested a little familiarity with dorms were he actually a teenage girl like he appeared. After that, two strangers who got an invitation in the mail, both men. One of them, Heather thought his name was Lewis, became an ornate end table. And from there they met boyfriends, and girlfriends. Friends, and acquaintances.

Sometimes the objects these poor people became looked normal, so much that nobody who didn’t know who they were would recognize them. Sometimes the host had a little fun, and he made it clearer and clearer that this was all his own choice as he gave them cruelly human designs, like the tourist from Europe who became a suspiciously ass shaped pillow - though he swore it was supposed to be a heart. It kept going all day, and just like the couple when they first got there, nobody knew what they were getting into. The lucky ones were bought by their friends, though it was a poor substitute seeing as they were still stuck as objects and possessions. The worst were the ones whose partners tried to play for them, only to lose and be changed as well. Nobody ever transformed to match the people they were with, and it hadn’t escaped Heather or Marisa that loveseats and coffee tables only sort of went together. Once they were no longer human, everyone was separated and thrown into whatever vault the host set up for them.

Heather felt terrible, and she knew Marisa did too, but they had to keep winning. At first she tried to warn the new contestants as they walked onstage, but Marisa always shot her a warning look. They couldn’t tell anyone, or they automatically forfeited. They had to doom these people to a life as furniture, otherwise they would suffer the same fate.

Eventually, it came to the last round. They were still playing for the “bedroom collection,” despite having not taken any of the prizes they had won all day. Heather was tempted more than she would admit by the ass-shaped pillow, but her moral center kept her from saying so. And now they were halfway through the end of their last opponent. Literally, the poor girl was halfway to becoming an artisan bookcase.

Marisa couldn’t look, and Heather only did from the corner of her eye. Everything below her chest was already gone - intricately carved wood, shelves and all. The solid wood funneled into a thin, still feminine waist that was already widening out to join the boxy shape of the rest of her, and her arms were folded over her head, rapidly fusing into a beautiful red wood. She was Chinese, first generation, but anything that might have made that clear was fast disappearing. “What’s happening?” The girl shrieked. Her torso joined the rest of her, adding a few more shelves to the stack. She desperately turned to her partner. “Help me! Please!”

It was another pair of sisters, both college aged. The one changing was the younger, and she had looked so excited to play at the start. Her sister, whose name was given as Xiuyan, assumed this was just a silly game and was happy to let her play. Unlike Cocco’s terrified inaction when the time came, the other girl now looked like she would run to her sister’s side if she could. The host had already warned her once about leaving the booth.

“Meimei!” She wailed, but she couldn’t do anything as her sister’s face sunk into the wood. Not long after, beyond a slight curve in the middle all of the loser’s human traits were gone, leaving only an unmoving bookcase left. The remaining sister burst into tears.

Deeply ashamed, Heather looked to her wife. “I can’t handle this any more.”

Marisa glared at the host, who was busy admiring his craftsmanship. “At least it’s almost over, honey.”

“You!”

The sister was no longer at the reserve booth. She was marching to the contestant side, glaring at the two of them with murderous eyes. The staff was already carrying the bookshelf into the back. “You tricked us into playing against you, knowing what would happen! You did this to her!”

“There was nothing we could do!” Heather said. “You saw what happened! Don’t blame us, blame him!” She said, pointing at the host, who didn’t care as usual.

“I do!” Xiuyan hissed. “But I also know you were going to get her as a prize, my only sister! Of course you didn’t help her!”

They were all a little riled up now. “We didn’t want your damn sister!” Marisa sniped back at her.

“And you won’t get her!” Xiuyan stood up to the contestant’s booth and let it activate. Her designated object shifted from the reserve booth to the panel in front of her, KNICK KNACK. “I’m playing for her.”

Marisa hung her head. This wasn’t the first time she had had to face someone who just wanted to get someone back. The host, on the other hand, was over the moon.

“Alright then! This is great!” He giggled, bouncing on his heeled feet. “Since it’s late, I’ll give you just the one question for the whole home set! Lose, and it’s into the collection with you! Marisa vs Xiuyan! Are you ready!”

Marisa didn’t even object to this egregious rule change. She just wanted this over with. “Fine.”

“Fine by me!’ The other woman snapped, as she glared hatefully at Marisa. “I will make you pay!” Marisa just sighed, having heard that too much today. She figured this wouldn’t end any different.

The host pulled the last card of the day. “Here goes! What does the word fengshui mean in Chinese?”

That changed things. It perked Marisa up where threats couldn’t. “Oh, come on!” She shouted, aghast. Her opponent was a first generation citizen, and the two sisters had been talking back and forth in Chinese the whole game. This was so obviously stacked against her that it had to be intentional. “What the hell, man?”

The smile the host gave her proved it. It was the same one he had given Zari. A cute, almost but no-that’s-impossibly girly smirk. “Can you blame me? I just love breaking up a winning streak.”

“Ha!” The sister knew what this meant as much as Marisa did. “Feng and shui mean wind and water!” She jumped away from her booth, ran over to Marisa’s side and slapped her on the face. “How does it feel? Now you will change, just as she did!”

There was a ding. And at the same time, a buzz. Then both booths lit up.  The sister only too late realized that she may have jumped the gun.

“Uh oh!” The host looked positively ecstatic now. “Looks like Xiuyan left her booth, and so forfeited the game! But she also answered the question right, and let’s just say it was at the same time.” All of the women glared at him, knowing he could have decided either way if he wanted to. Xiuyan finally seemed to realize which person on stage was the real problem, because she glared most violently of all. “Now, I suppose one of them could cancel out the other, but I think it’s more fun to say that both contestants lose!”

“WHAT?” Marisa and Xiuyan looked at each other, then at the host, then back at each other. Then at the same time they rushed the podium, figuring they would at least go down swinging. But they didn’t make it very far before both froze in place.

Xiuyan’s angry look melted into a contented smile, though her eyes showed a different story. She stood upright, and her hands clasped in front of her chest before her entire body stiffened in place. As she stood there, her skin began to turn a deep gray. But for once, Heather wasn’t paying attention to the other person’s transformation. She had someone of her own to follow now.

Marisa was hyperventilating as she forcibly fell back, as if she were doing a squat. Somehow she stayed suspended there without any trouble, and Heather thought for a second that whatever magic this was might be better used to revolutionize exercise, before Marisa’s ass suddenly exploded outwards and she forgot the thought entirely. She had a perfect view of Marisa’s bottom and thighs grew to immense side - and she might kick herself for using it later, but right now she was not looking away for anything. Heather started to drool despite herself as Marisa’s bottom fused with the back of her legs,  both becoming a bright pink. The front of Marisa’s legs stayed rigid, and in fact became hard lined at a ninety degree angle. They fused together, her feet marking itself from the rest of her lower half by turning into hard wooden pegs that spread back across the shape her backside was molding into.

Meanwhile, Xiuyan was slowly shrinking. Unlike everyone else, including Marisa, her clothing didn’t fuse with her. Instead, it fell around her as she shrunk out of it. She was left naked, but when her clothes were no longer there to block them it was clear that there was no longer anything to cover. It was almost as if her nipples had been filed off, leaving behind clean globes as her boobs, and the same could be said for her slit. Her top half remained unchanged, but like Marisa her bottom was shifting. Her legs fused together, and coiled around the rest of her like a snake until she could easily sit on it. By now, she was entirely gray and stiff as stone - because she was stone.

At the same time, Marisa’s top half was also going through a drastic change. Both lovers knew she was becoming a love seat, and they had already gotten the “seat” part out of the way. One of her arms extended out, hooking to the side like half of a hug. Marisa let out a gasp as then her breasts expanded out to fill the space this made, then flattened back against themselves until the whole border was full with more than enough space to sit down. Heather had to restrain herself for this part. It was almost fitting that Marisa’s chest was turning into cushions, with how often she’d used her that way! She knew she should be distraught, and really she was. This was the love of her life! But at the same time, she wasn’t hating this. She really wanted to lie back onto that soft, inviting fabric, knowing it was hers…

She wasn’t doing a good job of keeping that off her face, either. Marisa’s head tipped back, slowly sinking into the fabric and allowing her to look at her partner. “Babe?” She said, and Marisa realized that the host was letting her talk. Probably because he was having fun, and he wasn’t the only one. She glared at Heather, who was now really squirming where she stood, eyes dancing. “Y-you don’t have to enjoy this that much…”

“Sorry!” Heather said, though for some reason that didn’t feel completely honest. Heather continued to frown at her face vanished. And then she was a loveseat, or half of one. Next to her, was a small marble statue. Xiuyan’s features had warped some, and what was once her legs was now a rock with sculpted waves surrounding it. A tail had been perfectly chiseled out of the bottom, and the furious sister was now by all appearances a calm mermaid praying in the surf. A tag was attached to it, which simply read “The Siren.”

To add insult to it, the statue of Xiuyan might have been shrunk down from human size, but it was still too large to fit on any of the shelves her former sister now possessed.

The moment the round was over, Heather went from her booth and ran straight to her once human wife. Unlike Xiuyan, she was indistinguishable from any other seat, though she was half done. She was half a sofa, only one armrest and enough sitting space for one, maybe two if they squeezed together.. But then Heather remembered. Marisa was part of a set. She was Loveseat A. Someone else, who wasn’t Heather because the host was a jerk, was Loveseat B. That was unacceptable.

The host went to gush over the statue, and while she did Heather sat on her wife and leaned back into those cushions. She may have been just an inanimate object, and Heather didn’t even know what if anything she was thinking inside that fabric, but she could swear she could feel Marisa inside as she snuggled in closer. She spend what felt like an eternity hugging herself deeper into the folds, washing over with more and more excitement…

“Okay, that’s enough. Don’t mess the merchandise.” The host kicked at Heather’s shins and gestured for her to get. Heather just glared at him. “Unless you want to buy-“

Heather was way ahead of him. “I’ll play for her!”

The host shrugged. “Against who? Congratulations, you’re the last woman standing. No more opponents.”

“Then just me and you,” Heather replied. “If I win, I get her back. And that means she turns back. If I lose, you get me, and all of today’s contestants are yours. That’s what you wanted all along, isn’t it?”

He thought for a second, or at least pretended to. She knew he would agree. “Okay then, I like those terms!” He laughed at her, crinkling that stupid mustache. Heather didn’t even know why he even had it, it didn’t fit the rest of him. “One question. One chance.”

He didn’t even go back to the podium to pull a card. He just guided Heather to the contestant’s booth and stood there, looking right into her eyes with a glint in his. “You asked for this!” He said. The crowd “oohed,” but somehow Heather didn’t feel nervous now. “Let’s see…” He paused for effect. “What would I keep in my top drawer?”

That was confusing. She thought he would try something impossible, but the obvious answer for the top drawer was underwear. Boxers, or briefs. Or socks. Maybe the trick was that she would have to guess one, but she didn’t like it. It was too easy.

He knew she was confused, because he was smiling. “What’s the matter. Answer quickly, or you’ll fail!” He leaned in, so close that mustache was starting to tickle. “Though who doesn’t want to see that? I think I’ll try glass with you. Who doesn’t like a stylish glass table?”

Heather wasn’t ready to be a conversation piece yet. “Back off!” She shoved him back. Not hard, but his small frame made him slip anyway. As he did, his mustache came caught on Heather’s wedding ring and a loud rriiip tore it off of his face.

Before her eyes, it was like a completely different person was standing there. They looked exactly the same, same girlish figure, same dyed purple hair, same extravagant purple extra small women’s size suit with pumps, but somehow not. One thing’s for sure, everything that would have added up to the person in front of her being a college girl, if not for that mustache, now definitely made it clear. That was no man on the other side of the podium. In fact, whoever she was looked almost familiar…

But now she knew the answer, so right away Heather blurted it out. “I figure you’d keep your bras and panties in there, hon! And maybe a few stockings, if you’re the type to wear them!”

The host, who was already whining about the pain on her face, groaned and kicked the booth hard. “You weren’t supposed to get that one right! You weren’t supposed to know about my disguise!” But it seemed that even though the host was feeling like a sore loser, the rules of the game were set. The stage around the loveseat began glowing, and slowly the shape unfolded herself, pillows unfluffing, base shrinking back into the cute behind Heather knew and loved, until Marisa was sitting there again.

“I’m back?” She gasped. She looked at Heather, who ran into her arms. “You did it!”

“I did,” Heather said. She might have enjoyed those cushions, and she was going to make sure Marisa knew it, but she liked her fine this way too. “But it’s not over yet. Follow my lead.” Marisa stared at her, confused, but Heather just nodded and guided her back to the booths.

“But wait,” Marisa said, looking back to where the host was having a bit of a tantrum. “What happened to the guy who was running this thing? Who’s that?”

“I’m not sure,” Heather said, handing Marisa the mustache. “But it has something to do with this.”

Confused, Marisa tried on the ugly thing. All of a sudden Heather’s wife was gone, replaced by a thoroughly manly man (just look at that mustache) who looked exactly like her beautiful wife but clearly wasn’t.

“Wait, what?” Heather yelped. “Where did you go?”

The mystery man - whoever he was - took the mustache off, and Heather instantly recognized Marisa again.

“It must be magic!” Marisa said, chuckling. “It makes people think that you’re a guy! Hell of a way to disguise yourself.”

“You mean that was you?”

Marisa stared at her for a long moment. Then - on a whim - she pocketed the mustache for later use. There was no use wasting a good trick…

And speaking of tricks, the host was at the end of her patience. Her accent was getting thicker than angrier she got. “This sucks! I don’t lose at this game!” She glared at Marisa and Heather, and it occurred to them that the magic involved probably all came from her in the first place. “I should turn you both into punch dolls, just for fun.”

“Don’t be a baby, er…” Marisa said, though she paused. “What was your name? You seem kind of familiar.”

The girl rolled her eyes. “It’s Kaitlyn, you morons. You really don’t remember? So much for continuity!” She snarled at them. “And don’t call me a baby, unless you want to be a baby doll yourself!”

“Just calm down,” Heather said quickly. “We had so much fun we’ll play one more game.” We’ll just put one of us right here!” Suddenly, she yanked Marisa back into her old contestant booth, which lit up and activated just like before.

Marisa yelped, but knew she couldn’t leave now no matter how much she wanted. “What? I thought you were going to-“

Heather nudged her in the ribs, which felt a little better when they were pillows. “Just go along with it.”

“But I don’t want to be a chair again!” She whined.

Heather leaned into her ear and whispered, “sshh..” with a knowing smirk.“Technically you weren’t a chair, you were a loveseat. And I know you liked it, love. I could feel you, feeling me all over you.” Marisa gulped as a shiver ran through her, and she bit her lip hard. The tables had truly turned. “But you won’t. Trust me.”

Kaitlyn eyed them with confusion. “I have no idea what’s going on here,” she said dully, faced with a situation too good to be true.

“We’re playing!” Heather said brightly. She walked over to where the other booth is, letting Kaitlyn follow behind her. “Now the other of us will be here, and we’ll play!”

She almost laughed. To Kaitlyn, she must have looked completely insane. “But I don’t get what it is you plan to get out of this? I mean, obviously you secretly enjoy a change or two,” she stuck out her tongue at Heather, “but what’s your benefit here?”

“Simple,” Heather said, sticking her tongue out right back. “I’m not the one who’s going to be playing here!” Before Kaitlin could process what she had just said, Heather grabbed her and pushed her in front of the second booth, which locked in place.

It took the witch a moment to realize she had been tricked. “This is your plan?” Kaitlyn laughed, but Heather noticed that she didn’t move either. “I made this whole game, remember? The booth won’t even lock in a transformation without me choosing one.”

She was right. Where Marisa’s booth now once again said LOVESEAT A, Kaitlyn’s said nothing. Heather shrugged. “No problem.” She said. She always carried a marker with her, just in case, so she just leaned down and scribbled something in front of the booth. The words glowed as she finished them.

“… that doesn’t count. It shouldn’t count. Is the booth actually working?!” Heather was happy to see that Kaitlyn was panicking now. “What did you write there?”

“Like I’m telling you,” she said.

“Well, the game isn’t going to run without someone to- oh, you’ve already figure that bit out, have you?” Kaityn groaned as Heather took her spot at the head podium. From there, Heather could see everything. The crowd wasn’t even a real crowd, it was just a bunch of cardboard cutouts with speakers attached! And the staff were just magically treated wind up dolls. This was all a sham! And without Kaitlyn to control them, it all went completely inactive.

It was time to give this crazy girl a taste of her own magic. “Okay now! In one corner, we’ve got the sexiest contestant I’ve ever seen. The beautiful, vivacious, and ever so passionate Marisa, who I hope to see more of after the show if you know what I mean.”

Marisa winked at her. She always loved it when her wife got like this. Kaitlyn, however, was not happy. “Hey, you can’t just take over my show to flirt!”

“We can now!” Heather said, shutting her up. “And in this corner, a witch who’s admittedly sexy antics have gone too far. Kaitlyn! Are we both ready!”

Marisa cheered, but Kaityln didn’t say anything. But that was alright. She didn’t get a say in this game any more.

“Question one!” Heather looked straight at Kaitlyn. “How do we turn everyone back?”

The only response she got was. “Fuck off!” But Heather was expecting that. There was a buzz, and one of Kaitlyn’s lights disappeared. “H-hey, wait!”

“Ooh, that’s not our right answer! Next!” She looked at Marisa. “What name do you like to call me, when we’re alone?”

True, they were doing this to get some payback on Kaitlyn, but that didn’t mean Heather didn’t like the opportunity to mess with Marisa the way her wife messed with her, just a bit. Marisa didn’t know the crowd wasn’t real, and she turned red and mumbled out the answer. It was barely loud enough to hear, but Kaitlyn caught it and laughed. Or laughed until the the ding showed that she had lost yet another of her chances.

Now Heather put the pressure on. “You get the idea, bitch?” She snarled back at Kaitlyn, who jumped. “I could just keep asking personal questions, and you’ll just keep failing until you run out. You can’t see what’s on the booth, right? Who knows what you’re going to be? A water bed, or a pillow, or maybe something even more personal?” Kaitlyn shuddered, and nodded. “Fine then,” Heather went on. “You know what the next question is. Do I have to ask again?”

“It’s all a scam, okay?” Kaitlyn shouted, arms crossed and pouting like a child a third her age. “Everyone’s going to change back eventually. A week, two tops! It doesn’t matter who buys the contestants, nobody gets to actually keep them! I make a mint off all the sales, and then I lay low before anyone figures out what I’m up to! It’s harmless!” Another buzz! “Hey, wait. What? But I answered the-“

“I’m sorry!” Heather mimicked Kaitlyn’s evil grin. “The correct answer to ‘do I have to ask again’ would be ‘no.’ Or maybe ‘yes.’ Depends.” Kaitlyn was dumbfounded. Marisa was doubled over her booth, laughing. Heather was going almost as hard. Making this witch squirm was invigorating! “Question number four, where is everyone you changed?”

Kaitlyn sighed, though this at least was a question without any tricks. “They’re all here, but they’re linked to me. They go where I go.” Ding. Heather gave Marisa a sorry in the form of a shrug as one of her lights went out. She wouldn’t need the rest of them anyway.

Now for the finishing touch. “Perfect!” She actually reached for a card this time, but all of them had doodles or dirty limericks on them. No questions. “Next one, maybe the last one! What do I keep in my top drawer?”

Marisa acted as if she were about to answer, prompting Kaitlyn to pounce on the question instead. “Ha! You slipped up!” She laughed. “Using the same question as me! Same answer! Your underwear! Probably need twice the space because of that fat ass of yours!”

Bzzt! Kaitlyn froze. Her last light went out.

“I’m sorry! In my underwear drawer, you’ll actually find a few special items, maybe a toy or two, that only my wife gets to know about.” Feeling daring, Heather blew a kiss at Marisa, who sent her a secret, lusty smile. “… when she’s good, that is.”

Now totally beaten, the witch shuddered, and only partly because that was just plain too much information. “Oh, feck. I was not planning to get transformed today!” She turned to Heather, smiling weakly. “So… what exactly is this going to do to me?”

“Tell you what. We’ll let you find out,” Heather said. A final gloat, though she was a bit distracted finding a “deactivate booth” button on the podium. Once Marisa was free she frantically gestured for her wife to join her, and the two leapt off the stage for a safe distance.

If Kaitlyn didn’t know this wouldn’t end well before, she definitely knew now. “Wait, don’t leave me here! Don’t- urk!” She dropped to a kneel, then from there she fell onto her back. Her knees stayed in the air, and her feet were planted into the floor. In fact, every bit of her that touched it was  sinking into the floor, just enough to stop any unnecessary movement. And it was definitely needed, for then Kaitlyn started to grow. And grow. And grow.

First she was the size of a sofa. Then the size of a car. Then the size of a room. The stage was cracking underneath her, and finally collapsed, and she was still growing. The size of a eighteen wheel truck. Her legs pressed together, and were fusing into one. First they were wooden, then they were painted a bright lavender color. The stage was splinters, and her body pressed into the dirt. Her dark and light purple streaked hair turned green and sprouted tall, into purple orchids the spread across the clearing.

The size of an apartment. Her feet pushed down into stairs. Her hips pushed forward, and the valley between her legs became a door for the four walls the rest of her was forming. The tops of her knees became a roof. Her chest turned to wood, and a pair of gazebos were built from where her bust had been. A hole fell where her navel was, and out came a hot tub.

The size of a cottage, but that wasn’t quite big enough. Her head sunk into the ground and became a small pond. Her arms spread around the rest of her, and became a fence. Underground, her butt sunk into the earth and grew into a hollow foundation. And a final, very surprised squeak became the creaking of newly settling wood.

The two lovers craned their necks to look up at what had been a petite, if somewhat curvaceous young woman not a minute before. It wasn’t just a house, it was their dream house. That was what Heather wrote on Kaitlyn’s booth, after all.

“So I’ll just say it,” Marisa stuttered. “This is weird.”

Heather giggled at the look on Marisa’s face. “You know what? I kind of love it.”

“… you do?” Marisa sighed. “Of course you do.”

Heather shrugged, and wrapped her arms around her. “It’s what we wanted, right? Four walls and a fence.”

Marisa shuddered. Heather had remembered what she said, and in the weirdest way possible had given it to her. For now, at least, they had a house. Not much, but perfect for two women in love. Though they didn’t know it yet, inside the rooms were all furnished with every single person who had been transformed playing HouseMates, so the two would have more than enough to explore. They would even have the chance to break in that bed they passed on before, with respect to Zari of course.

“Not much of a future, though.” Marisa chuckled. “Remember, it’s only going to be here for a week. Two tops.”

“Then I guess we’ll have to make good use of it while we can, won’t we?” Heather said. Though Marisa might turn the tables on her again later, she was still feeling daring enough to seize this moment. So she grabbed Marisa, picked her up and carried her wife across the threshold, both of them laughing lovingly as they explored their new home.