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Writer's pictureTakeoverTales

The Things You Find in the Garbage


“We’re going to have to let you go.” My boss said. He crossed his hands on the desk and did that half frown that people do when they don’t actually care about the person they are talking to.


“But, I have been working here for twenty-two years. Scooping ice cream is all I have ever done.” I desperately tried to not whine. 


“I know but it’s time we see some fresh young faces, ones that will bring in customers." 


"What do you mean?”


“You are getting older and I’m pretty sure arthritis is about to set in so scooping is going to get a lot more difficult than it is.”


“It’s not difficult. My hands are used to it. In fact, they might even prevent it.” I said and held up my hands. 


My boss shook his head, “Sorry this my final decision.” And he held out his hand to shake. I stared at his empty hand for a moment and then stood up and walked out. 


At first I was going to head home but I didn’t want to explain what had happened to my partner. He was probably just getting home. Instead, I kept on walking. 


After a while my back started to hurt. It slowly got worse and it got to the point where I had to stop wherever I was, and that was in this alleyway where dumpsters lined the brick walls. 

I started to sob, thinking about what I was going to do for a job. It was only scooping ice cream but I didn’t know what else I was going to do. Some place would hire me fore sure but who knows how long it would take. 


I saw a man bring out a large garbage bag that had a hole in the side. I squinted to see better but it didn’t help. The only thing that I could make out was the flat hand that was peaking out behind some papers. 


Curious to see what it was (and hoping it wasn’t a dead body), I waited for the guy to leave and looked through the bag. I picked out the trash that I wasn’t looking for and threw it back into the dumpster until I reached a flesh looking costume piece. I pulled it out and laid it out on the pavement. 


“I know what this is!” I said to myself, astonished. This had been one of the new BSuits that just hit the market. My partner and I had started talking about a getting a pair to spice things up in our lives. 


“I wonder…” I said, stripping before anyone noticed and holding the suit up. I stretched out the mouth and slid my legs in, sliding against the inside and then suctioning into place. I wiggled my toes underneath the new ones and they copied my movement. I pulled the rest of the body up, his large cock forming over mine and then an erotic feeling as I took control of it. 

“Damn!” I said, the suit almost completely on, my upper body now ripped with the suits muscles. I lifted the head over my own and I felt it slip into place. I blinked a few times before opening and closing my mouth to make sure it was in place. “Perfect.” I said, my voice suddenly changing to match the suits. I looked over my body, flexing my arms in a broken mirror that leaned against the wall and admiring my new cock as it hardened. 


I suddenly had a thought. If my boss didn’t want the old me working at the shop then why couldn’t this one? I bounced my pecs. Might as well give it a try.


I put on my old clothes. They stretched as they went over my body. My body had grown from the old man to this. I walked back to the ice cream place with ease, back pain gone. 

“Hello.” I said with my new smile.


“Well, hello there.” My old boss shook my hand. “What can I do for you?" 


"I’m currently looking for a job. I have scooped ice cream for…well, since forever at…” I couldn’t say here because I never had worked here. “…At my parents ice cream place, unfortunately it burnt down and now I’m here doing what I know and love.” I could hear a rip at my back as the shirt started to tear.


“Well, a spot just opened and you are a young and handsome looking guy, with experience. A double whammy.” He held out his hand. “Welcome aboard." 


I smiled and shook his hand firmly. "Happy to work. When do I start?" 


"Well, we are about to close up since we are going to be doing some renovations. We’re trying to appeal to high school kids instead of the younger population. You can come in tomorrow morning to help set up and such.” He nodded and showed me the door. 


I could not wait for tomorrow, now all I had to do was go home and explain to my husband what happened. 


I’m going to tell him the truth. 


One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.

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