[Story] Body Swap

I

Dean knew he shouldn’t take advantage someone who was drunk, even someone as enthusiastic as—what’s his name—Simon. It was nice to get some attention from an attractive guy, to be sure, but the unspoken plan of making out in the bathroom lost most of its shine for Dean. Simon didn’t seem keen on dragging him anywhere, not that a man half his weight could have managed that.

Dean had a large enough vehicle that they could make out in the back seat without feeling too cramped. Suggesting this fact was suddenly good enough for Simon, who began walking toward the exit.

It had been a while since Dean had made out with a guy this small. He felt delicate and vulnerable despite his cocky visage. He liked how Simon’s small frame nestled into his larger, softer one.

A knock came on the window nearest the curb, the passenger’s window. Simon rolled the window down and asked what was up. From the sound of the stranger, Dean suspected he was in his 50s.

“I overheard you in the club. I have something that might help you. On the house.”

He dropped a paper bag with the club’s insignia on it. Inside were two jelly donuts.

“That’s thoughtful,” Simon said as he pulled one out of the bag.

Dean considered warning him about taking food from strangers, but hunger silenced his conscience. He reached toward the bag.

“You really think you should be eating donuts there, big guy?” Simon asked.

Dean wasn’t sure what to make of his tone of voice—it wasn’t quite playful, but it wasn’t malicious either.

“A donut never hurt anyone.”

“One, yeah—but let’s be honest: this isn’t your first one donut. Bakery verses the gym, you know?”

“I go to the gym.”

“Well, that’s good.” Simon burped and handed Dean the bag with the other pastry. “Damn, donuts shouldn’t taste good. It’s not fair. Whatever, I should take off. Thanks for the fun.”

Dumbfounded, Dean stumbled through a farewell as Simon vanished into the night. He quietly munched on the donut and considered how offended he should be on a scale of 1 to 10. He decided on a 5 and drove home.

II

The shroud of the night lifted from Simon without the pain of a hangover that he thought was all but inevitable. He was distracted from this pleasant realization, however, by another, far stranger realization. His body felt wrong—like he was caught in a net, or packed into a hammock. He jolted upright, and he felt his body move in ways it never had. It…jiggled. He looked down and let out a cry—in a deeper voice that was not his own.

He was in a strange bedroom he hadn’t seen before. He stared in disbelief at his arms, which were thicker and covered in hair. Far worse, however, was his torso. His slender waistline was replaced by a bulging gut that hung over his pajamas.

He grabbed the offending belly and shook it. He watched it quiver and wobble. He swore out loud a few times, but that didn’t change anything.

He had to be tripping, but everything else seemed perfectly clear. He felt his face, which had more fat and more beard than it ever had. He had to see more. He found a bathroom, and looking back at him in the mirror was the somewhat cute fat guy he had made out with last night. Simon was curious what it was like to kiss a bear, not become one.

He looked away from the mirror. He looked back. Still there. No amount of pinching and hoping could shatter this terrible dream.

He surveyed his bearish appearance in greater detail. He wasn’t weak—in fact, his arms were bigger than he had remembered. Credit where it was due, though it didn’t make up for the back fat indentations and the slight double chin. He raised his eyebrows and pulled off his pants and his underwear. He was well-endowed as far as he could tell. He could add a point for that.

He heard a musical jingle fire off a few rooms away. He rushed back into the bedroom to find the source: he was receiving a phone call from a number he recognized as his own.

He picked up the phone.

“Simon, what the hell is going on?” Dean said, but with Simon’s own voice. “Why do I look like you?”

“It’s happening to you too?” Simon said. “Well, I’m fucking fat now, thanks a lot.”

“What do you mean ‘thanks a lot?’ That shady bastard probably drugged the donuts we accepted food from him—I mean, I can’t think of anything else.”

“You think this is drugs?” Simon couldn’t think of what it rationally could be, but it certainly wasn’t a simple narcotic. They agreed to meet at the club and track down the stranger as best they could.

After he hung up, Simon browsed Dean’s phone. A dating app for bears? Huh, some of the guys that had messaged him seemed genuinely be interested in Dean. Simon returned to the bathroom and examined this naked body. If only he felt the same. Instead, he felt horrified or fascinated—he wasn’t sure which. That his torso had a moderate amount of air on it was disguised from Simon somewhat by the protruding gut and soft pecs that confronted them. He poked and squeezed his assorted bulges his body for a few moments.

“How the hell does someone let himself go this far?”

Simon was surprised to find a scale in the bathroom. Why did a fat guy own a scale? Whatever, he stepped on: 260 pounds. Goddamn, Simon thought. That was unbelievable. His own body weighed 130 pounds, it was unimaginable to weigh twice that much, but here he was…experiencing exactly that. He felt strong and imposing, but slower, and there was a persistent jiggle in his lower belly that accompanied any significant motion.

A rumbling in his gut interrupted his thoughts and he sought the refrigerator, which was overstocked with snacks. He piled up a plate sat down to eat. What was he thinking—this was way too much food—but as he rose to return some of them to the refrigerator, a smile slowly formed across his face. It didn’t matter if he ate this food, it would go onto Dean’s body, not his. And Dean was so far gone, what did a bit of extra junk matter? He obviously had bought this food to eat—it was totally his fault already, not Simon’s.

There was no sense in wasting the opportunity to feel satisfaction with this bizarre situation. As Simon gorged himself on pastries and cheeses, he thought it made more sense why Dean was so tubby. These snacks were incredible. He would enjoy it while it lasted.

III

When they arrived at the club, they realized what neither had considered before: the night club didn’t open until 2:00 PM. Dean suggested they they walked to a nearby fast food restaurant to eat a proper meal and further discuss their curious dilemma. It was all he could think of at the moment. As he hadn’t indulged in any of Simon’s low fat yogurt or suspicious bottles of kombucha, he was hungry indeed, even in this emaciated form.

He marveled at how easily he passed through small crowds of morning joggers and denizens headed to the farmer’s market. Even in high school he weighed 180 pounds, and it was strange to to travel to a before time that hadn’t really existed at all. He felt young, weightless, and meaningless. It was difficult to articulate, but that hardly mattered considering how little faith he had in his comrade, who spent his conversation complaining about how fat he was.

He glanced at Simon’s phone. He there were three messages on dating apps waiting for him. He could get used to that part, even if he felt like a human crouton. When they arrived at the fast food joint, he ordered a meal and stepped into the bathroom to collect himself. The pale twink staring back at him looked gaunt and foreign. He pulled up his shirt and looked at the flat stomach. It was like looking at a photo, cold and distant. At least he could see his crotch again.

He found Simon already seated at a table sorting through a tray that had no fewer than five burgers on it. Sure, most of them were small, but still—

“Are you eating all that?” He lowered his voice. “That’s my body, dude.”

Simon rolled his eyes. “Implying you ate differently?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Mm hm.”

“I’d like to not feel like shit when we get this sorted out.”

“Oh, now you have strong opinions about diet.” Simon grabbed his gut. “This is all the evidence I need.”

“Oh my god.” Dean calmed himself. “All I ask is that you try. If you can stay this skinny normally, it shouldn’t be that hard.”

Simon shrugged.

Dean watched what his figure gorge himself on fast food, crumbs and condiments getting in his beard as the food vanished. He hoped he didn’t normally look that gluttonous. Dean couldn’t even finish his own meal, he felt so stuffed so quickly. Before he fully realized why this was, Simon piped up: “Want some dessert?”

Dean was dumbfounded—what the hell attracted him to this guy in the first place? He looked down at his splindly arms.

“Kind of, but I feel full.”

“Let’s do it.” Simon slid out of the booth and marched up to the counter and ordered a large bowl of ice cream. Simon was lucky Dean made good money.

Oh god—what if they couldn’t sort this out by Monday? They would have to work each other’s jobs. Dean put this out of his mind. The time until the club opened was dwindling.

Simon broke the silence as they walked back to the club: “Dude, you’re fat.”

“Hey.” Dean didn’t protest further. It was nice walking at a brisk pace and not feeling the least bit winded.

The club was empty. They asked the proprietor, who waved them away. But it wasn’t surprising he didn’t remember a man Simon struggled to give any description of—Dean hadn’t even seen his face. Empty-handed.

They agreed to set up shop in Dean’s larger apartment for the time being. Simon vanished into Dean’s room before the latter could say a word. Oh well, he would sort that out later in the evening. After wracking his brain for a few minutes, Dean began absentmindedly browsing Simon’s phone, which he would have to answer in character if it were to ring, whatever that character was.

The inbox of the dating app he opened was filled with guys, some of whom were very attractive. The little burst of excitement faded when he remembered they were attracted to Simon, not him.

Hey handsome… Looking good, stud… Love to go out for drinks…

And lewder comments—it was all there. When he was younger and slimmer, Dean had gotten attention like that—and he still got some, but it wasn’t wise to be as choosy as he was back then. He slipped into the bathroom and posed in front of the mirror. He could be a dancer in this body—an actor—a singer… He hadn’t pursued any of those fields, but it was nice to know he was one step closer to being able to.

He took off his shirt. Without any body hair, fat, or muscle to speak of, Simon’s body wiped away the glow of nostalgia Dean was feeling for his dreams of the entertainment industry. This bony figure didn’t feel right at all. Combined with the loss of height, he felt like he should curl up in a ball and wait for it all to pass. But who knew when that would be.

IV

Simon looked down at the phone. Lord, Dean again. That man was a nag. At least Simon had the good sense to leave him that first night—if only the rest of this hadn’t happened—if only they hadn’t been plunged into this bizarre, intolerable coexistence. They had awkwardly moved into each other’s jobs without losing them, which was the extent of that success. When Dean wasn’t waiting on tables in Simon’s job, he was completing paperwork that Simon found incomprehensible from Dean’s job (or complaining about Simon himself).

Simon found office work boring, but the regular hours were a fair trade off. Being called in to take over the shifts of less reliable workers, or working until just before midnight was something he could live without. He could get used to going home at 5:00 and stuffing himself with fantastic foods, something for which he had a growing affection. It was a relief to be able to try whatever food he wanted without feeling guilty.

But as the months drew on, Simon began to realize that he would have to contend with some of the consequences of his libertine diet after all. Fewer and fewer of Dean’s wardrobe fit comfortably, and a small pile of pants that no longer closed around Simon’s belly began to amass in his closet. His efforts at ignoring his expanding middle was made harder because of Dean’s complaints. Simon responded to requests to exercise or diet with a grunt and an extra helping of dessert. That would show him.

By the fourth month, Simon was down to three outfits that fit him—well, “fit” was one way to describe it. He sucked his gut in and tugged at his pants to bring the button to the hole. They clasped reluctantly and he breathed out, allowing his belly to spill over and obscure the site of his struggle. He was halfway through donning a t-shirt before he knew it was the wrong size. It barely reached his belt. He twisted his body from side to side and watched the shirt ride up and expose his hairy navel and bulging love handles. God, was this his life now?

He glanced back at the scale. He’d avoided it before now, but a burning curiosity overtook him: 300 pounds. He had gained 40 pounds in four months. That was insane—the most he’d ever gained before was 15 pounds during college, which he had promptly shed upon graduation. To think this was possible was unnerving. Dean sure was messed up, he told himself.

Simon had popped open his jeans after a second round of dessert when Dean burst into the room.

“I found him, finally.” Dean said.

“Found who?”

“The man who did this to us. I’ve been going to as many clubs and bars as I can and I finally found him—and he gave me this.” Dean opened his palms to reveal two donut holes. “If we eat them, we’ll swap back.”

“And you believed him?”

“He did this to us—why couldn’t he change us back? Come on, let’s try it.”

“Can’t wait to get back into this body, can you?” He pulled up his shirt and let his belly spill out. Simon smiled inwardly. Sucked to be Dean.

“Just eat it.” Dean said. “It’s what you’re best at.”

“Oh, we’re going there?” Simon’s gut bounced as he stood up. “How many pounds have put packed on my body, fatty?”

Dean blushed. Simon’s twink-like figure had thickened under Dean’s watch.

“It’s stress eating,” Dean said. “I’m sorry—”

“How many pound?”

“Just like…10 or 15 pounds. And what about you?”

“Tour body was already beyond saving.” Simon shook his head. “At least mine was sexy before. You’re lucky I’m willing to call it even.”

Dean looked angry, but simply offered Simon the pastry. They ate in silence.

V

Being returned to his own body didn’t feel as natural to Dean as he had hoped. He knew Simon’s terrible diet had done a toll, but it wasn’t until he was back in his own skin that Dean realized how bad it had gotten. He could put up with the extra weight, but felt like complete shit for weeks.

At first he missed the effortless body he had inhabited. The absence of hunger, the ease, the guiltless laziness… But he would have gone mad if he had stayed that way much longer. He had no gravity, no sense of self. It felt like being a monster whom everyone else praised. Like a Twilight Zone episode. He hit the gym and cut back on junk food immediately after the swap back. With gratification he saw his muscularity return and his bulging gut return to the tighter bearish curves he was familiar with. Indeed, by the time he heard from Simon two years later, he had gotten down to 240 pounds for the first time in years. It was actually an accident that they found each other again. Certainly, Dean had made no effort to contact Simon, and the latter had returned the favor.

Dean walked to a restaurant to grab food when he noticed a man eating at the other side of the room. Something clicked in his mind and he examined the man more closely. Holy shit, it was Simon. His appearance had changed so much, however, that Dean had to stare for a few seconds to reassure himself it was indeed him.

Simon wasn’t a twink anymore. He had put on weight—a lot of weight. His cheekbones and chin, which had once formed a taught triangle, were now round and framed by stubble. Dean marveled how much his face had filled out. Not that it didn’t suit him, but damn he looked fat. His arms still looked small for his body, but his shirt cupped his bicep tightly enough to betray the doughy truth. His chin doubled as he as he signed his receipt with a blue pen grasped between his plump fingers.

He looked up and their gazes met. Simon’s face went white and he rushed into the bathroom. Dean watched Simon’s love handles shift up and down as he followed. He had to know what happened. What could have made a lean, sought-after guy like Simon transform so thoroughly? He’d had friends gain a little weight over the years, but he’d never seen a skinny guy balloon into a fat one in the blink of an eye. If one could call two years the blink of an eye.

VI

Simon breathed in deeply as he looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. Why hadn’t he bothered to find a shirt that fit better? This one did little to conceal his doughy pecs and protruding belly. But maybe it was best Dean saw him as he really was.

“Simon?”

“Dean, how have you been?”

“I’ve been great, what about you?”

He saw Dean’s eyes stray to the imprint of Simon’s navel, clearly visible between the pink stripes of his skin tight shirt. What should he say? That he’s doing fine? Admit that he’s done nothing but eat since they returned to normal? Since Dean had returned to normal. Was there anything he could say that wouldn’t betray the truth, since the truth was 10 pounds from spilling out of his shirt—a shirt he’d outgrown in a matter of months?

“I’m doing good.” Simon said.

“You look…different.” Dean said, again glancing at Simon’s belly.

“Good different?”

“You, uh—” Dean spread his hands in front of his own gut. “Filled out.”

“I may have put on a few pounds.” Simon felt his cheeks flush.

“A few?” Dean poked him in the belly. “How many is a few to you?”

Maybe the truth would change his tune: “Over a hundred.”

Dean’s expression of jocularity turned to shock.

“Damn, that’s crazy.” He said. “At least we know you’re not starving yourself.”

“How can you tell?”

“You’re bigger than me, for starters.” Dean grinned.

Simon looked at the reflection of both of them in the mirror. Though half a foot shorter, Simon had clearly grown fatter than Dean, who had gotten leaner since the last time Simon had seen him.

“Damn, you’re right.” Simon said. “If you told me two years ago I’d get bigger than you, I’d have laughed at you.”

“Likewise, if you told me now you were a twink two years ago, I’d have trouble believing you. You blew up so much I wasn’t sure it was you at first.”

“I don’t blame you. Even I forget how fat I’ve gotten—like in my mind, I’m still a 130 pound twink.” Simon patted his gut, and shared a chuckle with Dean. “I’d fallen in love with eating, so I ignored how fast I was growing. When buttons start popping off your clothes, though…it gets hard to ignore.” He lifted his arms and let his belly pop out. “In fact, it might be time to go shopping again.”

“You don’t seem too bothered by these…changes.” Dean’s eyes ran over Simon’s soft form.

“I don’t mind. I think I’m still cute.” Simon slid his hands under his belly’s overhang and gave it a jiggle. “Just better insulated.”

“Chubby and confident suits you in my opinion.”

It was nice for a guy to compliment him rather than chew him out for his expanding body. Strangers were nice, but he stopped hanging out with some of his gay friends for good reason.

“That’s good, because every time I try to diet, I just get bigger.”

Dean smiled. “Wanna grab dessert? My treat.”

“Well, I can’t say no to free dessert.”

Dean grabbed a handful of Simon’s doughy belly and winked. “I can tell, big guy.”

Simon followed him out of the restroom. If only he’d never met Dean—if only he’d never spent four months in his body. He scratched his soft belly. No, those four months were the first of many he would spend eating like a king. He smiled. It was time for dessert.