Ned’s heart leapt into his throat when he pushed the janitor cart around the corner, and saw the light in the corner office of the fourteenth floor was still on. The office where Gerard Fisher worked, an upper level manager in the bank which owned the building–the same bank which had, a few years back, foreclosed on Ned’s home. The same company whose offices he’d been cleaning for over a decade, under contract with a cleaning company sure, but every fucking day he was here, cleaning up after these wealthy fucks. It had been enough though, to get a little piece of property, until the mortgage rate had skyrocketed out of his budget. The bank had been merciless, his credit was ruined, his savings evaporated, he was living in a shitty trailer park, commuting an hour to work every day, a commute he couldn’t afford for a job he couldn’t afford to give up. It wasn’t rational to pin the blame to Gerard, there in the corner office, but the way he’d always sneered at Ned, when Ned was pushing the cart through, on these nights he worked late…
Ned was from a poor working class family. He’d done poorly in school, but he wasn’t stupid. The stress of the last few years had sent him ballooning larger and larger, until now he was about 400 pounds but couldn’t stop eating, and couldn’t pay to eat better. It didn’t help matters much that he was also gay, but had spent his entire life in the closet, only fucking around rarely. Still, he was a hard worker, but he could see the game was rigged, and the men rigging it were the Gerard Fishers of the whole fucking world. He’d assumed his whole life he’d never be able to stand up to someone like that and survive in the world, and so he’d kept his pride low and head down, but now…but now was his chance–a meager chance, but a chance all the same.
Through his grungy coveralls he reached in and pulled the medallion out, letting it hang on the outside of his clothing, glinting oddly in the light. He hadn’t really believed the old man he’d run into while he was cruising for sex at the rest area a few miles down the highway. The stranger had looked like a hitchhiking derelict–he’d pleaded with Ned to take the gold medallion from him, telling him that he could get revenge, that he could use it to destroy the lives of those who had wronged him. Ned had to admit that he’d liked the sound of that, and even if it was bunk (which it had to be, right?) then he could always pawn the gold for some extra cash. But he’d taken it from the man, and it was like time had stopped around him, and his eyes–it was like they’d been opened to some strange reality he’d never even known existed. And in that flash, he saw that the man had indeed been telling him the truth, but not the whole truth. Yes, the medallion would allow the person wielding it to destroy the lives of others, but it also made that person incapable of improving themselves.
But it was worse than that–Ned looked down at himself, at his fat, slobby, grungy body, his dirty clothes, and where he’d always been disgusted with himself, suddenly he…he liked it. He went back to his truck and jacked off, thinking about what a fat failure he was, about…about how much he wanted others to be fat, nasty failures like he was. He couldn’t stop, he didn’t want to stop, and all he could do was think about Gerard Fisher in his corner office.
So here Ned was–a slightly different Ned. He hadn’t showered in a few weeks, or done laundry either, since he’d first touched the amulet. He had a rather wild beard, his hair was shaggy, his eyes…glinting with an odd golden hue as he looked at the lit window of that corner office, that office he knew he’d never have, especially now, but that office no one should have–especially not Mr. Fisher. His cock was hard, just thinking about it, and he abandoned the cart, walked down to the office door, knocked, and stepped inside before being invited in.
Mr. Fisher was in his forties, but he didn’t look like it. He was meticulous about keeping himself in shape, kept every little wisp of grey plucked or colored, kept up with all the latest fashions. He had the perfect wife, and the perfect son about to go to college. But most important, he despised everything about the janitor who stepped into his office, grinning like he owned the place, a strange necklace around his neck shining in the light. It took him a moment to realize it was the same fat slob who always cleaned the floor when he stayed late–it was just that he was looking fatter and slobbier than usual.
“I think you can wait until I’m gone for the evening to clean my office,” Mr. Fisher said, “Although it doesn’t look like you know how to clean anything. I’ll be reporting your hygiene to the contractor, just so you know.”
“No Mr. Fisher, I’m not here to clean your office. I’m here to show you something,” Ned said, and pulled the medallion from around his neck, and started swinging it gently in the air in front of him. Mr. Fisher found his eyes drawn to the medallion immediately, and when the fat slob started moving closer…he wanted to move away–but he couldn’t move a muscle. Distantly he heard the slob talking, as one hand unzipped the front of his coveralls, allowing the slob to haul out a disgusting cock which…Mr. Fisher started sucking on behind his desk like it was the most normal thing to do. Ned smiled–it was a good mouth, actually. In fact, everything about Mr. Fisher’s body–everything about his life–was perfect, and Ned couldn’t wait to ruin all of it.