It was back, the thing. But not as a weight this time, it was…the ground, the air, all around him. It smelled stale, earthy, and somehow greasy, coating the inside of his mouth and lungs every time he inhaled a bit of it into himself, and with each breath he sank a bit deeper into it. A waterbed, a beanbag chair, it conformed to him, pulled him in deeper, welcoming him and encouraging him, helping him to feel safe, secure, content, and relaxed.
A space that had been nothing was becoming something around him. His gym. A gym. Did he go to a gym? His memories…they were telling him that he had…but the thing surrounding him was doubtful. Wasn’t that a lot of work? It whispered in his mind’s ear, telling him he wouldn’t have bothered, that he was wrong. The gym was fading, slightly. The walls closing in, the workout equipment melting into the floor, or contorting into other furniture–some shelves, a TV, and behind him, a bench had grown into a couch. The floor shifted, and sent him off balance, falling backwards into the couch, the couch accepted him like the dream had, told him he was here, where he belonged, where he always was, watching the TV. The room was dark and tight, dirty. He didn’t like it here, he didn’t want to be down here. He tried to get off the couch, but he couldn’t lift himself away–the weight dragging him back, the couch pulling him in with a strange suction and gravity. He couldn’t breathe, he was stuck, he couldn’t move, he–
Jeff was pushing against something, something fleshy. He thought it was the strange thing from his dreams, for a moment, and then he realized it wasn’t. It was Brian’s body next to him! His face was pressed into his armpit–that musty smell he’d been inhaling had been the massive man’s sweaty musk. Disgusted, he tried again to push himself away, and had to haul himself out of the Brian’s grasp–his arm had encircled him, and pulled him close, while the man had slept-and now awoken to Jeff’s struggle. “Oh goodness–are you alright?”
“What the fuck, man?” Jeff said, sputtering a bit. “You fucking queer, were you fucking holding me?”
“Now now,” Brian said, his tone a bit more gruff, “You fell asleep on me first!” I didn’t mean to hold onto you, I just dozed off.”
“You fucking faggot, you just wanted to feel me up. Probably the first time you’ve touched a muscle in ages, right you fat fuck?”
Brian just cocked an eyebrow, and then sneered at him, pleased with himself. “Must have been some dream, if that’s what you think of yourself.”
Jeff glared at him, but…but something did feel off. He looked down at himself, expecting to see a chubby, powerlifting physique (was that even right though? Shouldn’t he be leaner than that?) but instead, he was looking down at his body–his real body. Fuck, he’d never set foot in a gym in his life! All he fucking did with his time was sit in his apartment, watching TV…and eating. Fuck, did he have a binge habit, and it showed. He wasn’t quite as large as the man beside him, but he’d just crested 300 at his last doctor visit, which had been pretty fucking humiliating–
No, what the fuck was he even thinking! This wasn’t right, this couldn’t be real! He pinched himself, trying to wake up. This had to be the dream, it had to be!
“Nice try, but there’s no waking up from this one,” Brian said, leering at him, leaning closer, pressing some of his weight to Jeff’s side, “Why don’t you go back to sleep, eh? We were just starting to have some fun.”
Jeff pushed back, pushed himself into the corner, trying to keep from touching his seatmate, trying to figure out what was wrong with him. He reached under and unlatched the seatbelt, which was cutting into his gut, stood up, and forced himself between Brian and the seat in front of him, pushing his grasping arms away, while Brian licked his lips, and then he was stumbling down the aisle, towards the bathroom. He needed space, his own space, he had to get away. He got to the bathroom, found it unoccupied, struggled with the door for a moment, and as soon as it was open–he was shoved inside by Brian, who’d followed him up the aisle and followed in by the massive figure, squeezing in with him, and shutting the door behind them both.
“Get the fuck out of here!” Jeff tried to shout, but Brian grabbed him by the face and hauled him close, burying his face between his moobs.
“Now now, just relax, young man. Everything will be fine when you wake up again, I promise,” Brian whispered in his ear, “But we’re going to have to punish you, for being such a fighter–thankfully, I know a few ways to take the fight out of men like you.”
Jeff struggled harder, managing to get a breath of air and spin around, but froze when he saw his reflection in the mirror. Gone was his manicured, slicked back hair, his smooth face–his hair looked like it hadn’t been touched in months, hanging around his head in a mop, the scruffy beard covering his jaw and…both of his chins. He was wearing a dirty, stained t-shirt with some stupid gaming reference, and a pair of massive shorts. He looked like a slob, like a nerd. He was disgusted, he was disgusting. He couldn’t look at it, he couldn’t look at him, and he looked back, into Brian’s eager eyes, and he had nowhere else to go. The man smothered him, Jeff trying, desperately, to reach the door handle, but his hand went slack after a few minutes, and Brian held his limp body close, stroking his body while the younger man snored, eager to have some more fun when he woke again.
Bracken's Corner 