Stories Made By Trist @tristswipaccou - Tumblr Blog

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Regarding my last post (The "thought I’d made a post saying that I am wanting to leave Tumblr" one), in the time I have been off Tumblr and other social media, I have still written a couple of stories. I have thought of keeping them to myself, but the few times I have opened Tumblr as of late I have seen a lot of related accounts either deactivate or delete all their posts. I thought it would be nice to post some of these stories so that there's more out there for people to read, and less written by AI too. I have about 20 stories, and a few being rewrites of older ones. But after these posts it might be a while again for me to post more. I still won't be that active, and might not even post stories again, but I thought it would be nice to post more stores. They're going to be queues for two to post a day. The full original pinned message;

Hey, thought I’d made a post saying that I am wanting to leave Tumblr, not because anything bad has happened to me on here but I am wanting to focus more on my self. I’m going to post any stories left in my drafts that I didn’t post over the last couple of months and after that I most likely won’t post anymore stories or be active on other social medias. I have no plans to deactivate this account or delete any stories at the moment. Stay safe, all!

Yearbook

It's been thirty years since I was last in school, and to be honest. My life has been terrible. I did not pursue any further education, worked in retail for six years and struggled to find a job. I started couch surfing for a good year, living in friend's houses until they'd get tired of me and kick me out. Before my best friend Eric kicked me out, I bought this problem-solving spell book off the internet. When Eric saw it lying at his doorstop, he had enough of me and threw me out with it. He yelled that I was irresponsible with my money and slammed the door in my face. Then, I was living on the streets. Only with that book to my name. I would keep repeating those spells on the street hoping they would fix my situation somehow. Infinite money, dazzling looks. Anything to save me. Last I remember, I yelled one of those spells and a lamppost above me fell on top of me. Then I found myself back in Eric's house, lying in his bed, jumping awake in fear. At least one of those spells worked. I did not know how I did it, but at least I was off the streets. Even if it meant stealing my best friend's life. I lived as Eric for almost two years, pretending to be him perfectly, doing his job better then he could. But I grew bored, a project manager isn't the job for me. I bought that book again, looking for another escape, seeing if it could fix me again. I rummaged through Eric's attic looking for photographs or anything to use. I thought that, if Eric was the last person I thought of last time, maybe that would work again. Old sport magazines, family photos and polaroid's, broken photo frames. None of them captured me. Not until I saw our old Yearbook. It was slightly worn, stained a bit too, but still legible. I looked at old photos from when we were all eighteen, rereading those names with memories of them flashing in my head. Then one name lit a spark in me: Dan Axel. Back then, he was a smart kid, a good looking one too. But not someone I would call my friend. I think I made fun of him more then I actually spoke to him. I went on Eric's Facebook, scrolling through his friends and found Dan's account. All of a sudden a desirable lust came over me. He could be my escape from this boring life. Flash to next morning, I wake up in Dan's bed, lying right next to his wife. Turns out his life is great. A successful CEO, father of two, and with a boat load of money to waste. I got changed, looked in the mirror and analysed myself. I had no clue how to act like Dan, I barely knew him as well as Eric. But I could just lie and say I was ill for a while until I get myself into shape. Nobody would question me anyway. This is going to be such a nicer life for me.

Change of Scenery

As a photographer for ten years, you meet tens of clients a day. But none of them lit a spark in me as Ahmir. He was polite and kind, never rushed me or anything, something I wished every client was like.

He came in for only a few photos, wanted to use them to promote his local gym, hoping it would motivate others to join. He told me so much about his life and passions that soon enough his half and hour slot neared two hours, and my camera’s storage was almost filled up. But despite every photo I took, I never felt like I had the right one.

I just needed the right angle, one that would capture his entire frame perfectly - something more personal.

I stood behind him, analysing his frame one more time. I placed the camera down behind me as he faced forward. And just like that, I slipped in. No resistance, no mess. It was a clean entrance. Must have caught him off guard.

At first I thought I do enough photos to fill my camera’s storage. Then, I pulled out my old phone, took some photos off that with his handsome smile. I chased him muscles with my hands, feeling everything this body had to offer. And then it hit me, it’s too good of a body to keep only as a photo. It’s something to feel and love. Maybe he won’t mind another hour of shooting, free of charge of course.

Faulty Curse

My father probably thought he was really smart putting that curse on me, he told me I should appreciate every birthday I have. I was 22, what is so important about that? For my apparent ungratefulness, he decided my punishment was for me to have a birthday every day. But this was not some Groundhog day type situation, my father would never think of something that easy to teach me a lesson. Instead, everyday would be me living through someone else’s birthday.

For the first day, I woke up as a forty year old step-dad, showered with gifts by his step-children and spending the rest of the day at some boring museum. Two days later, I was a fitness instructor, spending the day with my classes with nobody even wishing me a simple “happy birthday”. Day five, a broke Master's Degree Student abroad. Day six, Middle age police officer. Day seven, a drunken party king. And for day nine? That was the best of it all.

I woke up, hung over, in my own living room. My jeans were wrapped around my legs, shirt unbuttoned and chest hair all sticky. When I woke up seeing that same tv in front of me, surrounded by old trophies and paintings, I thought my father finally dropped the curse and expected me to learn my lesson. But as soon as I turned to the kitchen, seeing those crosses across the calendar, all leading up to June 5th, I knew that was not true.

I knew my dad messed up his spell, and it back fired on him.

I knew at that moment, today I would be spending it as my Dad, on his birthday.

I knew he went out last night to celebrate, and now I had the house to myself. As soon as I got up, I stumbled to the bathroom, holding up my jeans with one hand and shouldering the doors open, and that confirmed it for me. His face looked back at me, with my shocked expression. That idiot.

I decided that for once, this will be a birthday to celebrate. But not for my father’s sake, but for my own. I spent my time, treating myself to whatever I wanted, wasting all his money. Now, it was midday, and I wanted to relax outside. Now I'm out here, contemplating what to do next. Should I break the spell and stay here forever? Maybe even just carry on as I am now, swapping every day. Who knows, but for now, today seems like it's going to be a good day.

Park

Y’know, I am really surprised nobody came to check up on me. Everyone around me just saw a buff man collapse off his bike and onto the grass, lie still for a hot minute before taking off his shirt and flexing in a public park. I've been lying here distracted for the last five minutes and nobody has even come near me. I mean, it's easier for me to blend in but it doesn’t make everything a bit too quiet.

Now, to get comfortable with this meat of a body. I think I will just lie here some longer, enjoying all this muscle and hair shining in the sun. And after that? Not sure yet, might explore the town with his hunk, maybe I will go back to his place. Dunno yet.

Paid his end of the bargain.

"Oh you brilliant Bastard" I said, seeing myself in the mirror. I looked, and instead of seeing some 25 year old standing there, covered in sweat and pyjamas, I found myself in a much older body, covered in tattoos and muscle, all wrapped in a jockstrap of a bow.

I looked at my face, a face I recognised, not because it was my own, but because it was someone else's - My father's face. The old man stuck to his word after all.

Two weeks before, my father had to ask a big favour from me, a giant sum of cash and labour work, and he was short on time and cash himself, so he turned to me for help.

"Are you actually going to pay me back this time?" I asked him, I knew cash was clearly not an answer, but I was waiting to hear what his answer would be. It was "Whatever" he told me, so I pitched to him - Let me have his body for two weeks, and he could consider all debts paid. I could tell he was hesitant, and it was not the first time I pitched the idea, but he never wanted to go through with it. But this time, what other choice did he have?

About three days after the deal, handing him the cash and doing the job, I had found out he paid his end of the bargain. I woke up in his room, still in my childhood home. As I noticed the cream walls I immediately knew where I was. I leaped up and greeted myself in the mirror, completely surprised he went through with it.

His body? Smooth yet strong. His face? Just as stern and handsome as always. His arms? Bloody huge. His Jockstrap? Fitting, yet overly tight from a good old case of morning wood. It was like he left the keys in the car for me. I stood there in this grizzled frame, completely ecstatic at my new physique.

"Thanks, old man" I spoke, flexing and grinning to not only myself but my new body. "And don't worry, I'll take good care of this meat suit for you."

Summer Break Starting

Summer break. God, It’s already the first week and I already want it to be over. Both my kids won't leave me alone, wanting me to drive them to local bars and parties. Things any one would do if they had nothing to do for six weeks. I wanted out, I was tired of driving everywhere for them and spending six days in work. I needed a way out, even for just one day. And the easiest way to do that? Hop next door and take over my neighbour's body of course. Greg won’t mind, and if he did, I bet he would not remember it.

It’s not like he has much to do, a truck driving job, lives alone, no kids. Sounds like a dream life to me. Plus, he only lives next door, so if my kids do something stupid while I take a “power nap”, then I could switch back before they burn the house down. But I’m not worried about that, I just need a day to myself right now, and Greg is going to help me do that.

Converse

I should have thought more before putting the trap in my dad’s shoes. I always saw him wearing these converse to the gym, but now that they’re on my feet - I don’t understand how he does it. Sure, when he first put them on, and I found myself clad in his gym gear, they felt great. I could feel my blood and strength coursing through them with every step. I could really feel my new weight shift and adapt to these, seeing as there were barely any soles to get in the way.

I did a little jog outside, trying to stop swaying side to side, carrying twice the muscle. I enjoyed every twitch and flex my new body did while walking. Feeling my jaw structure sharpen with every smirk, each peck bouncing freely. But these Converse did not help my ankles. It makes this frame harder to navigate. And once I got to the gym, it was not much easier.

Next time, I’ll reconsider. Maybe put them in his work boots instead.

Sleeping the Day Away

One of my favourites sights to see when I came back from my University lectures was seeing my hardworking father, fast asleep on the sofa, oblivious to the world around him. He worked hard as an engineering, tirelessly throughout the night, only to get home at about 3pm before sleeping, ready to work again at 9pm. So when I saw him sleeping in his usual spot, I took advantage as always - diving into his body and immediately adapting to his beefier physique. For the first couple of times I did this, it was hard to adapt to his muscular frame and heavier legs, but I adapted quickly and consistently. I instantly felt his skin adapt to my control, all his muscles tightening to greet me and all his hairs bowing down to me. I felt every inch of his body react in that moment, and was invigorated by it. I examined my hands and faces, doing my usual check up for myself, just to make sure I was not dreaming. Now I was him, for a while that was before he had work next day, and I had an infinite amount of possibilities. But whatever I was deciding to do tonight, maybe spending time alone, maybe even hitting the local pubs, I knew I was going to do it as this Hulking beast

Life after the Swap

When it first happened, everyone was scared. Nobody knew how to carry on with their daily lives. Nobody knew what to do with themselves. Some loved their new bodies, some hated them. It did not matter. Even if you were lucky enough to not been swapped with anyone, chances are someone you loved was instead.

After the first couple of months, they talked about finding a way to reverse it. And by the end of the year, they said the chances of a reversal were slim. In the span of six months, all hope was lost. And what was there to do? Carry on living. It did not matter who you were before, or who you are now. You still had to carry on with whatever body you were in. It does not matter if you were a University student or a Business owner, you had to march through it, adapt to your new body, and act like nothing weird happened.

I was originally studying to be a Doctor myself, only in my second year of university. But then the Great Shift happened, and now I had been a doctor overnight, without any formal practice or any degree to my old name. I had to learn everything I needed to overnight to continue working. They gave everyone who was swapped a three-month gap to get used to their new selves before starting work again. It was not enough for me. All I could do was try. Everyone forgets after a while that I was never a doctor before.

Construction Worker

“So what’s up with Jeremy?” I asked my colleague while trying to finish my lunch break. My colleague Mark laughed hysterically as Jeremy walked past us.

“Oh, has nobody told you.” He said, holding his hand to his chest before wiping his face. “Last Friday when we all went for a drink, he and Greg had a little bet. They had a few drinks before that, but Greg betted that whoever lost a game of pool would have to spend an hour or two in a new body.” I looked over to Jeremy again, seeing his smaller frame and more muscular chest. He looked nothing like his old self. “When Jeremy accepted the deal, he thought he would be switched with one of the boys. But you know Greg, too good at pool, and too good to be trusted.”

“C’mon boys, five minutes” Jeremy said, with his commanding voice being replaced with a softer and squeakier one that did not match him at all. He tugged on his jacket, with it now being too small for him. Mike on the other hand laughed as he walked past, watching Jeremy struggle to stop strutting where he walked.

“So who was he switched with?” I asked, keeping my eyes on the shirtless man walking past.

“He was switched with one of the bar tenders. It was supposed to only be for an hour but the bartender walked off before they could switch back. Jeremy got in contact with his old body and said they would switch back by Thursday. So it looks like this is the new Jeremy for the next couple of days.” Greg laughed. “Just try and take your eyes off him, will you?” He said, punching me in the arm before going back to his work.

Given Genetics Pool [Rewrite]

There was no better feeling than getting away from life and relaxing in a foreign country. It had been three years or so since I went on holiday last, so I had no time to spare between University and everything else. When my father offered to take me on holiday for a week, just me and him, how could I say no?

When we got there, the hotel was almost empty. Nobody in the lobby or dining areas. I could guess there were only one hundred of us in that hotel including the staff. The first day, we got the key to the hotel and took our bags over, ready to start our holiday. Wandering over, I overheard some man speaking to his wife, saying there were some weird chemicals in the swimming pool. He seemed overly distraught. His wife on the other hand? Completely lost. I had just assumed they had some chlorine burns or something. We threw our bags in the room, ripped out our swim wear, changed and rushed to the pool, wanting to enjoy the mid day sun. I raced my father, slipping past the chairs and down the stairs. I remember being cockily as I thought I got in the pool before him, dunking my entire head into the pool before he could even touch the water.

The next thing I remember? Coughing up water on the side of the pool, with some heavy hands pressing against my chest, panting as he quickly uttered “Sir.” to me as I opened my eyes. Next thing I saw was just some thirty year old, trying to resuscitate my heavy body. He brought me to my feet and everything felt wrong

Everything was groggy and heavy. My breath was heavier and sharper. My legs were thicker and weaker. Then, my voice, as shaky as it was, with a mumbled “Yeah” to the life guard sounded wrong. I looked around as the life guard went, wanting to ask “Have you seen my Dad?”, but he was nowhere, and I was left with a quiet selfish whisper. I looked down at myself, seeing my body being covered in hair and muscle. I felt bigger, but more unenergetic, like it took so much energy for me to move. I felt utterly dazed, nothing made sense to me, I do not even remember wearing these orange shorts, wasn’t I wearing grey ones before? My stomach dropped. Maybe he went back to the room, I thought.

I trotted down the corridor, looking at myself as I soaked the carpet below me, analysing myself. Tattoos? Beard? Chest hair? Something was not adding up. The cold air trapped itself in between my hairs, making me feel large and threatening as I walked down the halls. I reached my hotel room, Room 302, and whipped out my key card, which felt weaker and smaller than before. I walked inside, with my balance completely ruined. Maybe I was just suffering from sunstroke, or maybe just hit my head on the way into the pool.

Inside were two suitcases, left the same way as it was before, nothing out of place. The TV was still off, and the blinds still closed. He was nowhere to be seen. I knocked on the door, calling out for my father. Dead quiet. I opened the door, not seeing him anywhere. I stepped inside, hoping he was joking around and hiding behind the shower curtain. Nowhere to be seen.

I turned around, catching a glance at myself. I looked again. I saw him. Standing there in the mirror, in my place. My dad, looking right back at me, but nowhere to be seen next to me. I stood there. Blinking, staring, panting. For a second, my heart sank

Those tattoos, that thick beard, those weary eyes. It was unmistakable to be him. I took a step back, watching him mirror my frightened movements. I looked down at myself, every feature of mine being the same as his, even down to the same shorts.

“What the hell-” I murmured, feeling my voice rattle against my throat. It sounded just like him. It sounded nothing like me. I grabbed the towel rail behind me, almost ripping it off the wall as I fell backwards, trying to keep myself upright. This was not some messed up dream, or crazed sleepwalk. I was my father. The man standing in front of me, was now me.

My heart bounced in my chest. My breath fled my body. My throat dried up. My eye pierced the air. I could feel every little change, overanalyse every little difference there was in this body. “No.” I whispered on repeat, completely lost within my father’s physiology. I was stuck in his body, and my old body was nowhere to be seen. My father was nowhere to be heard.

What is this who I am now?

Stuck in my father’s body?

That couple from earlier. The two arguing, were they in the same predicament? Is that why this hotel was so quiet? I stood there, clinging harder to the handrail, with my larger hands wrapped around it, stuck as my father, not knowing if I will be myself again.

Get what you paid for

Usually, when I would buy my own skin suit, I would avoid the mystery boxes like the plague. I had never heard anyone get anything good from them, so I would always buy suits I could look at and try first. When this company I would always buy from, CellSwapp, was selling these mystery boxes, it did have me intrigued. It was only about 40$ cheaper then buying one off the shelf, but getting something that might be better then that intrigued me, and so I fell into the trap. Bought the box, opened it in the shop, expecting to be disappointed, but I was in fact the opposite. I immediacy slipped into the suit, using the store's changing rooms, and I fell in love with it. This new skin, John Markson, was already my favourite without even stepping out of the store, better then the suits I had bought here months ago. None of my suits before ever had a beard this strong, let alone a jawline this perfect. It took me a good 10 minute to even leave the car park, because I spent too much time looking at myself in the mirror. Maybe it was a good purchase after all, and just maybe I have some plans for this suit later today.

Floating Point

“What the hell” I thought to myself, seeing myself floating above my body. Seeing my own face creepily wearing a smile. My body acted against me, and without me in it. It smiled freakishly, patted its face hauntingly, stood up jarringly. I tried to approach it but I was stuck in the air, stuck watching my body playing with its muscles and hair as it laughed. What was going on?

My body approached the mirror, caressing my chest, using my voice to murmur “Oh yeah.” repeatedly to itself. I wanted to stop myself, stop the taunting, but I was powerless. I was stuck in place watching my body applauded itself as it stretched its calves in the mirror. It’s only a matter of time before my body leaves me here, making its own life.

Speedo Son [Rewrite]

“Oh god, this is tight.” I thought as I slowly felt myself slowly overtaking my son’s body, my essence completely filling out his frame, stretching out to his broad shoulders and powerful thighs. I could vividly feel my own hands stretch out into his, my head locking in place with his skull, my stomach shrinking down to his size. It all felt so real, but I was not even done filling out his frame. Just as I felt my chest and waist match his, I collapsed forward, falling straight down towards the concrete, with my beefy arms stopping me from falling flat. As I stayed there, almost injuring myself with my new weight, I could feel the black speedo around my waist, locking me in place, sealing my fate.

I was no longer a hairy, weak old man. Now? I was a titan of a man. Graceful, strong, manly, courageous. Something I had not felt in a long time. I could feel all the energy and stamina flow through my new body, making me crack a large smile on my face. I flexed my new hand, getting used to this body’s strength. My breath jolted, taken aback by the raw electricity of this body. And I could not stop myself from smiling, not in the slightest.

I felt the speedo tighten once again, like it was confirming my place in this vessel. It kept pinching, just as I toyed my new skin, kept tightening until it knew I was locked inside. It was like the speedo knew my games were almost over, like the possession was almost complete. Those words from the instructions clung to my mind; “If you took it off, you could become your old self again.”. The speedo harnessed me to this body, like it never wanted me to leave. I, for one, was just surprised this speedo worked, and was not some easy Craigslist scam someone had made me buy. And I found it even more shocking that my son believed that I bought it for him to try on. His fault for being too trusting of his old man

Now he was gone, or maybe even lost in this body, watching my every move, feeling every prod I made against his skin. But I was not going to dwell on that, I was not going to waste my reclaimed manhood. I have a new life now. A better one. He would be even more of a fool to think I was going to give this back to him.

Boyfriend's offer

When my boyfriend asked me if I wanted to be in his body for a day, I was eccentric.

Here’s the story. Eric and I had started dating six years ago, in the first six months nothing weird happened between us. One day, I saw a completely different man drunkenly stumbling on our door and crashing on the floor in front of me. I thought he had just stolen Eric’s key but no, it was Eric - trembling in a frame taller and heavier than what he had, but behind that drooling face was still him.

In the morning, I asked him how he even ended up in a body like that. He responded that it was something he could do since he was younger, explaining it to me as if it was something normal. It was something he used to do a lot until he grew up apparently, using it for beers and money as a teenager but did not see a use for it as he got older. In the back of my mind, I could not believe it. This man in front of me was supposedly my boyfriend, despite being somehow taller and older.

It took me a while to wrap my mind around the entire idea, somehow he is just able to be other people? The next month, he would show his skills to me again, inviting some of his friends over and possessing them in front of me. One half of him would act like nothing changed, and his other half of him would be so intrigued. He would hug me and walk around shirtless as if he was still in his own body, and after an hour or two, he would leave their body peacefully and they would act like nothing even happened.

After that, he would start doing it over and over, at least once a week he would come home in the body of his co-worker or someone he saw in the gym - sometimes being his boss if he felt like it. Then he’d start doing it longer too, it started until after dinner, then he would stay there for two or so days.

And now today, he would do it so often I would not even know who was walking through the door at the end of the day. I had gotten used to it now, hell, I found a thrill in it. But I did miss seeing his face sometimes. I told him this one night, as we both laid in bed, as he was in the body of some gym bro he was newly obsessed with. “I miss seeing you” - I said. I saw the lights in his borrowed face dimmer as I said this.

After a lengthy discussion, his offer lingered. “Do you want to try being me?” he asked, I did not even know he could do it the other way around. I rotted in the silence, before admitting a silent yes.

The next night, he asked me again, but with his own body this time. I answered again, even despite his worries. And in the morning, I woke up in our bed alone.

I left the room, and looked at myself in the mirror. And then I realised the thrill was there again. Eric was much more handsome and bigger than me, I could never understand why he did this possession thing when he looked better than half the men he became. But I felt that joy behind it, and I understood why he did it. And I'm feeling it in Eric’s body none of the less.

I stood there, a complete contrast from my old self, but now standing as everything I loved. Encapsulated in sweat and muscles, formed by hair and veins. His face, looking back at me. And I really understood it all.

Black Out Blackjack

When you play a game of Black Jack with the boys on a late Friday evening, and one of your mates is out of money, you'd expect them to go bust and leave the table, right? Nah, that's too much to ask from Garret. He always takes things too far. He gets too passionate and scared to lose. So, you would expect him to bet something stupid, like his keys or phone or something. But his body? It was something I did not expect him to say. I thought he was bluffing, and I didn't think he would go through with it. I let him carry on playing, out of pity. And he lost, as always, and I took home the money. After that, we drunk more and more, watching old sitcoms from our childhood before most of us went home. Garret was too drunk to leave, so he crashed on my couch. Before he slept, he whispered to me "Remember our deal." before immediately passing out drunk. I was not in the right mental state to even process what he had said, so I ignored it and stumbled into my bedroom.

Next thing I knew, I was sleeping on the sofa, hand under my briefs, the other on my head, skin stuck to the sofa. I put my feet on the floor, feeling my body sway side to side as I tried to stand up. I don't even remember sleeping down here last night. My pants, slung around my ankles, dragged as I waddles over to the TV, checking the time before turning it off: 7:30am

It was not until I made my way to the blinds, holding onto its lift cords that I realised something was off. Something I struggled to notice with my dazed, hungover mind. Tattooed shoulders? Hairy arms? Salt and Pepper Beard? And then it clicked.

"Remember our deal." he said. I thought he was joking, I did not think I would actually wake up in his body. I caught a glimpse at myself in the TV's reflection, seeing my new bulker and cocky self smiling back.

It was not my smile, it was his, bleeding through me. I was completely and utterly flabbergasted, but I was also amazed that Garret of all people could pull something like this off. How would he of all people, the same person who can't screw in a lightbulb or nail a piece of wood, be able to somehow make me wake up in his body.

“Garret?” I croaked out, but my voice was completely his. It was like Garret's voice if he had to go through puberty again, filled with trembles and stutters. That drunken promise of his was true, it was not some desperate attempt to win a game. If it was a game, he has already won and I was the fool.

I turned my head to the kitchen, stumbling with my pants still down and my tank top rolled up for a fresh breeze. My phone, still left on top of the Black Jack table from last night. I needed to call someone, somebody had to believe me. Someone had to tell me I was not dreaming.

I unlocked my phone, scrolling through my contacts. Eric. Our other mate, sat right at the top of my recents. I face timed him, he was groggy himself, just waking up from a nap. I saw his expression change in an instant when he saw me - saw Garret - on the other side of the phone.

"Where's Rich?" He asked.

"You're not going to believe me when I say this - Remember last night when Garret offered his body or some shit?" I mumbled, stumbling over my new voice.

"You're having a laugh." he said, tussling in his bed, desperate for a good rest,

"Eric. I am being serious. It's me Rich." "Quit messing Garret."

"I need you to believe me" I tried.

"Tell me something only Rich would know then."

"I don't know" I yelled, thinking for a second, still trying to fix my voice. "One night after we both went to the labours, we went around the back and we-" Eric cut me off.

"Holy hell, it is you."

"No shit! What the hell do I do about it." I cried, confused about my situation

"Well." Eric laughed. "Give me ten minutes and I will be over." He sprung out of his bed, immediately being full of energy. "Oh, and make sure to send me a photo, just so I know what I am working with?"

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