Demoted to Third-Shift

[long-form request: Josh Allen has his body swapped by a fan]

Once again, he was overwhelmed with panic as he opened his eyes. Even in the near dark, he still knew he wasn’t in his own bed. He patted anxiously at his surroundings, searching for something familiar. But it wasn’t his surroundings that clued him into his location; it was his own body. He felt the flab of his arms wobbling as he moved. Hands shaking, afraid of what they’d find, he reached down and grabbed a massive gut. He gave it a squeeze, moaning at the sensation.

He was the slob.

Except he wasn’t. But that didn’t matter. He sat up--a massive effort, considering the slob’s back pain and the fact that he had sixty pounds of flab piled in his midsection--then swung his doughy legs over the edge of the bed. His joints didn’t quite ache--yet--but he could feel the phantom tingling in his knees, shoulders and hips. Once he stood, and all 300 pounds of him came down on him, he’d be in pain once again.

He cringed as he felt his soft, flabby legs rolling over each other as he waddled to the bathroom. Everything felt too high in this place, he thought as he flipped a chest-high lightswitch. He stared down, not wanting to see himself in the mirror. But as he peed, curiosity took over. He could feel the softness of his face, heard asthma’s gentle wheeze with every breath, but he had to see, just to be sure.

And of course, the slob stared back at him: doughy cheeks, one massive bullfrog chin covered in a scraggly beard, his pale flesh dotted with painful acne. He ran a hand through his greasy hair and cringed. There was a rubber band on the sink. He snatched it in his meaty hand and pulled the hair back into a ponytail. It was only a marginal improvement, but he was grateful for the small things lately.

Worst was the sight of his little cock peeing. It looked like a little acorn barely peeking out past his flabby thighs, nearly swallowed up by his scraggly pubic hair. He had memories of whipping out a much bigger cock, of strutting through a shower crowded with professional athletes, proud of his tall, flawless physique and the massive dong swinging between his powerful legs.

Now he let out dull, high-pitched farts as he guided his little nub with a thumb and forefinger as he peed out Mountain Dew. He smacked his lips, still able to taste it. Goddamn, why did that slob have to drink so much of that stuff?

“Hey bunny!” came the call from the hallway. He shivered. “Bunny.” That nickname made him want to put a hole in the wall (something he wouldn’t try again, since last week’s angry outburst resulted in painfully bruised knuckles that didn’t even scratch the wall’s paint). “Your favorite football player is on TV!”

He let out a gentle whimper, then clasped a fat hand over his mouth. “The fuck am I doing, just rolling over and dying like this?” he thought, trying to pull himself together. THis existence had been agony since it had begun, but he was Josh Allen. Situations like this, where everything seems hopeless, is where Josh Allen pulls together and saves the day! He thought to himself. He snatched his inhaler from the soap dish next to the sink to give himself a lung-opening puff before waddling out the door.

The slob’s sleep schedule made the whole ordeal far more maddening. He worked third shift, so being him meant sleeping during the day, getting up at sundown and staying up until the rest of the world got up to start their days.

“Bunny? You coming? Don’t wanna miss your guy!” The sing-songy voice belonged to Matthew--formerly the slob’s boyfriend, now just his invasive roommate. Little Matthew sat, legs crossed at the knee, on the couch. He patted the cushion next to him as Josh approached. Despite the six-inches Josh left between them, Matthew still leaned over and rested his head on Josh’s hairy shoulder. At contact, Josh suddenly farted. He blushed as Matthew looked at him with feigned disgust and fanned the air in front of his face.

“Sorry,” Josh said. The apology spilled out automatically, but he spent the next minute silently chastising himself for it. He was a prisoner here; he didn’t need to be polite to his jailor.

He braced himself for the image that popped up on the screen: 6’5” Josh Allen, fresh from a winning game, greeting the press with an open-mouthed smile.

“Look there! Doesn’t he look handsome!” Matthew said, rubbing a hand sensuously up and down Josh’s flabby thigh. Despite himself, Josh found himself getting hard--and his cheeks reddened as he realized the inciting image was the reflection he’d seen in the mirror his whole life!

“He’s not…” Josh began as he watched the man on screen. Surely, this “Josh Allen” was doing a poor impression of the real one. He was too enthusiastic, too uncomposed in front of the press, like a college freshman who somehow got a microphone in his face.

“Oh, fuck yeah!” said the Josh on screen in response to a reporter asking if he planned to continue his winning streak. He was supposed to be an NFL quarterback, yet he was handling everything like a fresh-from-college rookie with no experience.

“ ‘He’s not,’ what?” Matthew asked, his head rising up. Josh didn’t have to turn to see the narrow sideeye Matthew was shooting him.

“Nothing,” Josh said, a chill going up and down his spine as he began to worry about Matthew’s suspicion. He felt the slender man’s fingers tickling up and down his back, though, and he relaxed his posture. “I was going to say, ‘He’s not forgetting to shave,’ but… I guess I shouldn’t be so surprised that he’s…” This next comment would take some effort: “...doing such a great job as me.”

Josh felt a hard backhand crack him in the cheek. He took the blow and turned away, staring down at the very round gut before him, resting on his throbbing knees.

“See, one thing I made it clear that we don’t do,” Matthew said as he snatched his glass of Riesling from the coffee table and tossed it back in one, “is to criticize the men who are making the most of the body that they’re in.”

Josh stared down, nodding weakly. His dick, rock hard, pointed back. It was the image he’d seen on screen of “Josh Allen” at practice--that ass… those pants! He hated that he thought these things--about his own body--but… what was the use in feeling shame about it?

“I think it’s time you got ready for work,” Matthew said, shooing Josh away. “I think I’m done snuggling with you for now.” Matthew turned back at the screen, lighting up with adoration of the “Josh Allen” that fumbled through reporters’ questions and then hustled off the stage. “I think I’m going to call him tonight to see how the game was.”

Josh’s heart sank as he rose to his feet, his wobbly knees threatening to give out and drop his fat ass right on the filthy carpet. In the shower, he rubbed his blubbery body with a sliver of soap as he thought back to the body he used to have. Once again, his little dick shot to attention.

“I’m gay in this body,” Josh surmised as he finally relented and reached down to grab his own dick. He imagined Josh Allen lathering his big body in his shower after the game. All those huge athletic bodies, all soapy, but Josh’s beautiful frame would easily outshine any of those other NFL athletes. Now he shuddered at the idea of taking off his shirt at the beach.

A knock on the door snapped him back to reality. “Hey Perry, you better not be late again,” Matthew chided sternly. “Samson said he was done with your lateness, and if you get fired… well, you know the stipulations of our little situation.”

Perry. The slob’s name was Perry. Josh had to remember that. Too often lately he’d been failing to respond, threatening to give up the charade that the obese man wasn’t himself anymore.

On the busride to work, he pulled his hoodie low over his head so he could avoid torment from the other riders. The week before, a young guy called him a tubby bitch and kept trying to grab his man-boobs. His sore nipples had reminded him of the incident for days, but the most painful part was knowing that, had he been himself, he would have towered over the little punk--who probably would have asked him for an autograph.

(For fuck’s sake, if he’d been in his own body, he wouldn’t have been on the bus!)

Three minutes early, Josh thought with a sigh of relief as he punched Perry’s number into the computer at work. Get ready for eight hours of stalking shelves with two measly 10 minute breaks in between.His lower lip quivered as he wondered what he’d be doing at that moment in his own body--probably getting a massage after a hard practice, stuffing down a massive meal… maybe even banging a woman!

“Cutting it close, are ya Perry?”

It was Samson, wearing sunglasses inside (at night) and his plaid cutoff, showing the beefy guns he worked out religiously. Josh had sat through Samson’s stories about how he was a high school football legend, and from his doughy physique, save for his broad thick pecs and massive arms, it was true he had a limited exercise routine as of late.

“I was three minutes--”

“Perry, you ever wonder why you’re stuck at this job with no hope of promotion?”

Josh wanted to sob. He knew exactly why.

“Because you lack motivation. You’re just a dumpy little slob, doing the bare minimum to get by. You think your big football here Johnny Whatshisname clocks in three minutes early? Or do you think he’s an hour early, ready to go?”

“It’s Josh…” he corrected. He didn’t care about Samson getting his name right. Something deep down was speaking--how dare Samson speak that way about his hero? “Josh Allen.” After he’d spoken the words he was shocked that he cared--why make waves at work? He was supposed to do his best at maintaining Perry’s life as possible!

Samson strutted toward him, hands on his hips. “I don’t give a fuck about your little football crushes, Perry. All I want is for the company to get their money’s worth from their employees. Value-Stop would much rather pay wages to someone who WANTS to be here, who WANTS to work hard…”

“I want to work hard,” Josh said weakly. He had to.

“What’s that? I can’t hear you,” Samson said, crossing his arms in front of his beefy pecs, resting them on his protruding gut.

“I want to work hard!” Josh said. His voice cracked. A long, squeaky fart escaped his fat ass. He felt his face burning red. God, he hated being Perry so much.

“Well then, fucking prove it.” Samson turned around and strutted away. “Big delivery just came in. Let’s see how fast you can put it away, lardass.”

Josh actually hopped to his feet. Deep down, he didn’t want to disappoint Samson. This went beyond “playing the part”--in some way, he was actually BECOMING Perry… and it terrified him.

***

The night it happened, Josh had just dropped off his girlfriend Brittany after dinner. He was walking to his car when he noticed the two guys standing up the sidewalk, watching him. “Fans?” he said to himself. But it was 11:30 at night. He didn’t have time for fans.

He used his fob to beep the locks on his car, but when he opened the door, he saw the two guys standing much closer. One fat greasy one who seemed to be struggling to stand; the other, tiny and skin-and-bones, walking with a pronounced strut to his hips.

Josh paused--be kind to his fans or continue with his business? That pause would make all the difference, he would find.

The skinny one approached. “Excuse me, Mr. Allen?” he asked in a high, feminine voice.

“Hi guys,” Josh said, feigning a smile.

“We were wondering if we could get something from you,” said the chunky one. Josh didn’t even want to shake that slob’s hand.

“An autograph?” Josh asked. He patted his suit pockets for a pen. “I don’t think I have a--”

“No, something else,” the slob said, holding up a crystal ball. Josh stared at it, confused--until it flashed with light.

Josh was stunned. He felt like he was floating. Was he having a seizure? No, he was looking down at himself from above. He saw his open car door, his body now leaning limply against his car, slack-jawed. “What the fuck--” he asked, but his words echoed and dissipated quickly. He tried to reach out for his body, tried to get back into it, but something was pulling him.

The strange men approached his body. The greasy one stroked his face. From above, Josh tried to swat at them. “No!” he yelled, to no effect. “Get away from me!”

Then he was yanked away. He felt compressed on all sides, spinning through space, but when it was over, he found himself in the hand of the slob.

He was inside the crystal ball. Josh banged on the glass walls. They didn’t seem to budge. “Hey!” he shouted. “Hey, let me out!”

Outside, he could see his body, seemingly in a daze. He felt tiny--his body looked as big as a building! He watched in horror as the skinny one ordered his body to stand up… and his body complied.

“See, he’s an empty vessel now,” said the slob, reaching out and grabbing Josh’s cock through his suit. His soulless body drooled a bit and smiled, getting hard reflexively.

“Take off your shirt!” the skinny one asked, clapping with glee as the 6’5” quarterback did as he was told.

“Kiss me,” said the slob. Josh screamed as he saw his body leaning forward, grabbing the slob’s face with both hands. Josh tried to smash the crystal ball from the inside, but then he realized that he didn’t seem to be generating any force. He wasn’t even breathing. It was almost like… he didn’t have a body. He was just… his essence, trapped in that orb.

“Get in your car, in the passenger seat,” said the slob after a knee-weakening kiss. “And give me your keys.”

“I’m not sitting in the back!” the little one shrieked. “I’m the one who got you the soul trap in the first place!”

“Fine! Josh, get in the backseat.”

Josh was horrified to see him getting in the backseat of his own car, staring ahead with a vacant stare. And he was helpless to do anything but watch his own body being puppeted around.

From his spot in the center console’s cup holder, Josh couldn’t see what was happening in the backseat, but he was sickened by his captor’s orders. “LIck your nipples!” “Moo like a cow!” “Jerk yourself off and eat your cum--and keep mooing!”

Of course, his empty body did all those things. Josh cried out with rage as he saw the skinny one producing a cell phone. He had no idea how this had happened, but the helplessness was overwhelming.

At some strange apartment, the crystal containing Josh was set on a shelf while the two men took their big hunky NFL toy for a test drive. Josh’s body fucked the little one while the slob fucked him, then the slob made Josh’s body lie down while he straddled him and blew load after load in his face. It was torture, and too much for Josh to bear. In an explosion of rage, he lashed out from his prison. Somehow, the orb rolled just a bit, plummeting off the shelf and shattering on the floor.

Now loose, Josh felt a powerful current trying to take him away. He strugged, desperate to get back to his body. Somehow the slob seemed to sense him, reaching out to his ethereal form, somehow connecting with it. Josh struggled for his body, barely grazing it with his intangible fingers… before it all went black.

And he woke up as the slob.

*****

Josh hadn’t opened his eyes yet, but he tried to talk himself through his confusion. “You are Josh Allen, you are Josh Allen, you are Josh Allen…” he whispered… although his voice somehow sounded wrong.

He tried to remember what he had done the night before… he was working, Samson actually gave him a compliment, and he went to the bathroom to release the Mountain Dew from his bowels. Then…

...wait, what had happened after that?

He sat up, unsure of why he didn’t remember going to bed at all. He didn’t remember leaving work either. Had he blacked out?

In the dark, his body felt unfamiliar. All the excess flab was gone. His body didn’t ache like it had. He didn’t even have asthma anymore. He took a few unhindered breaths and leapt to his feet. He certainly felt too light to be Josh Allen again… but at least he wasn’t Perry.

He gasped when he turned on the light and saw the whip-thin body he was in. He was Matthew. He looked at the small, soft hands, the barely 90 lb body, and shuddered. He was only five feet now, he realized as he looked around at how much higher doorknobs, tables and light switches were. If he’d felt powerless as Perry… he sure as hell felt powerless now!

“Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME?!” came a roar from the hallway. Josh froze--it was Perry’s voice!

The door flew open and Perry lumbered in, already short of breath but still driven by a primal anger. “What the fuck did you do? You did something, didn’t you?”

“I-I… I’m not Matthew!” Josh said, throwing up his arms. Even though Perry was an impotent blob, he was still much bigger than Josh was now.

“W-wait, are you…” He paused, putting a hand on his chest.

“Your inhaler!” Josh said. Suddenly he remembered that he kept a spare inhaler for Perry in his nightstand. He reached for it automatically. This “autopilot” chilled him, and he wished it would go away.

Perry took a few puffs, then sat on the bed. “Wait, then are you… are you HIM!”

Perry’s eyes went wide as he realized that his NFL football hero was trapped in the body of a tiny, twinky queen right next to him.

“Y-yes… I don’t know why…”

“Matthew did it,” Perry said, letting out a series of staccato farts. “I know he did. He did the spell in the first place.”

“B-but I thought Matthew said that when I broke the orb, I messed up the spell?” Josh said. God, his voice was so humiliated! He sounded like a girl! He also hated how the bed bowed toward Perry’s weight. Josh had never felt more insignificant.

“That’s right, and I ended up in you, and you ended up in me…” Perry shook his head. “Maybe the spell’s breaking down. I’d have to research it, but we were all kind of making a unit when it happened, me touching you, touching Matthew… maybe…”

Perry put a pudgy hand on Josh’s little shoulder. “God, man, I was you… I was fucking YOU! I was just sitting there, jerking off looking at myself in the mirror. And when I was on the field, it’s like… my body knew what to do! I was the Bills quarterback, and I was doing a better job than you were!”

Josh bristled. “Only because my abilities let you,” he said, edging away from the slob.

“No way, man, you’d been inside the game for too long. You needed an NFL SUPERFAN like me to take over. That’s why the team’s been winning nonstop since I was you!”

The two suddenly got quiet. “What’s going to happen now that Matthew is me?” Josh said, horrified. He still remembered Matthew explaining the nature of the magic, just after it had all happened: As long as you can maintain each other’s lives, the spirits should swap back naturally. Too much disruption and it could become permanent.

Perry shoved a cell phone in Josh’s face. “Call your old number,” he ordered.

Josh did as he was told, loathing the fact that he couldn’t stand up to the monster who, up until that morning, he’d been living as.

Josh dialed the number, then waited. It rang twice before someone answered. Josh’s heard sank as he heard his old voice--good god, he just wanted to sound like that again!

“Hey bitches…” His old voice had a sassy lilt it never had before. It was more obvious than ever that someone else was in Josh’s body.

“Matthew? Is that you?” Josh said.

“No, it’s Josh Mother-Fucking Allen,” said the voice on the other end. “Took me awhile to redirect the energies of that spell you fucked up, but I managed to reroute everyone. I like this setup better, don’t you? Good god, this cock is ENORMOUS. At least now you have one bigger than Perry’s. I bet you hated having that, didn’t you?”

Perry grabbed the phone. “Matthew, you have to keep pretending to be Josh or you’ll get stuck in each other’s bodies!”

“That’s the plan, numbnuts. I can’t believe you didn’t think of doing that yourself when YOU were in this prime pile of sexy-as-fuck beef.”

Perry turned away. “Damnit, he’s right. I didn’t even think of keeping it that way!”

“Right now, I’m about to go fuck every hot pornstar I’ve ever had a crush on. And I’ll make one of them my boyfriend! Once that hits the internet, that should be enough of a disruption to lock things into place, right?”

“Give me my body back!” Josh squeaked into the phone, but Perry shoved him aside with one jiggly arm.

“GIVE ME HIS BODY BACK!” Perry shouted, but the phone went dead. The fall had knocked the wind out of Josh, but as he lay there on the floor, he realized he had never felt so hopeless in his life.