"I think Liam here needs to relax," Evelyn said with a devious smile.
"Awesome idea," Jeremy said, crossing his powerful arms in anticipation.
Liam certainly agreed that he could stand to be less high-strung, but being paralyzed into a living statue by two total strangers wasn't exactly calming him down. But a soothing sensation quickly swept through his body, easing his anxiety almost instantaneously. His head began to spin and, if he weren't frozen in position, he felt he would surely be collapsing to the floor.
The room was silent except for a low hum from Evelyn's computer. Liam could hear his own breath as he inhaled and exhaled. His throat was scratchy and he felt the need to cough. His tongue felt parched and his stomach grumbled with hunger. He couldn't remember when he had eaten last. Honestly, he couldn't remember much of anything.
He spotted a blurry figure in the distance. He had to squint to realize that it was his own reflection in a mirror on the wall. For some reason, everything seemed to be smearing together, and the hair dangling in front of his eyes only made it harder to see.
Liam was puzzled why there would be hair in his eyes, since he always made a point of keeping it neatly trimmed. Yet, as freedom of movement returned to his body, he shook his head lightly and confirmed that long bangs now hung across his forehead and acted as a curtain for his eyes. He lifted a bony hand up to brush through his long brown mane which fell past his shoulders, ending between his shoulderblades.
Blown away by this radical change, Liam looked over his shoulder toward the indistinct figures standing across the room. "Whoa, how'd you do that, man?", he asked, his itchy throat making him sound like he had a head cold.
"Your hair?", replied the dude. "That's just the beginning, man. Go closer and get a better look."
"Closer to what?", Liam wondered until he realized the dude was talking about the mirror. Liam shuffled across the room, with barely enough energy to lift his feet from the floor. He found himself giggling under his breath for no apparent reason as he drew closer to the mirror. He was almost at the wall when his reflection sharpened and he had to brake suddenly, planting both palms on the mirror, smearing it with greasy fingerprints.
His brown hair had exploded into a tangled haystack parted in the middle, providing a narrow window for Liam's face to peek out. His lean features looked even more gaunt than usual, with sunken cheeks and dark circles under his bleary eyes, his brown irises floating amid a sea of pink. He scratched at the thatch of whiskers which now populated his chin and noticed how loosely his navy blue polo shirt was draped over his gaunt frame. Even his skinny jeans felt a bit loose. The elastic waistband of his underpants was exposed, and only his bony pelvis kept his pants from falling down completely. His height was unchanged at 5'6", but he had dropped at least ten pounds, making him appear even tinier and more frail.
He became aware of a smoky but sweet scent and realized that his hair reeked of marijuana. That was strange, since Liam had only been offered pot once in middle school and had gagged so violently that he was never tempted to try it again. But after a shiver shot through his body, Liam snorted with laughter and thought, "Yeah, right," as he realized that he was totally buzzed right now. Maybe he had resisted once, when he was a dumb kid who couldn't handle it, but in high school, he had become a dedicated connoisseur of the majestic bud. In part, he knew he had been drawn to pot as a way of escaping his anxiety about being gay in a family that did not approve of that "choice". His folks weren't exactly thrilled that their son had become so sloppy and apathetic, but at least he was usually in his basement bedroom watching TV where they could keep tabs on him, rather than wandering the city doing lord knows what. He was bright enough that his grades didn't suffer terribly, despite his near-total lack of effort, and his parents were both surprised and relieved when he got a letter of acceptance to NYU. They hoped the challenge of college would force their son to straighten up, unaware that he was looking forward to the freedom of college, where he could be shit-faced as often as he wanted.
"What do you think?" Liam flinched, startled by the deep voice coming from right behind him. He turned around and saw that hot dude...what was his name again? Jerry? No, Jeremy! Yeah, that was it. Fuck, he was a good lookin' guy. Maybe if they got fucked up together, he'd get bold enough to flirt with Jeremy, although the guy looked a bit too strait-laced for that.
"What do I think?", Liam repeated, turning his attention back to the mirror. He frowned as he looked at the polo shirt and freshly laundered jeans. "I think my mother musta dressed me."
Jeremy smiled and opened the door to a room filled with clothing. "I bet we can find you something more comfortable in here." Jeremy unbuttoned his white shirt, revealing his broad, tanned chest and ripped abs. Whoa, thought Liam, this guy must live at the gym. Liam's limp dick swelled inside his pants and he turned away. If he got more of a chubby, he'd be embarrassed to change clothes in front of Jeremy. He glanced sideways and noticed Jeremy grabbing a tie-dyed tank top from a coat hanger and slipping it on. It fit snugly on his torso, leaving his meaty shoulders and jacked arms on full display.
Jeremy gestured for Liam to enter the dressing room. "Go in and pick out something you like. I'll wait out here. When you're done, maybe we can smoke a bowl and see where the weekend takes us." Jeremy winked and smiled, his teeth so glaringly bright that Liam felt like shielding his eyes.
"Sounds magnificent, man," Liam said, his words elongating like warm caramel. He held out a fist for Jeremy to bump, then each of them "exploded" their hand with appropriate sound effects. Liam chortled and slumped his way into the dressing room, closing the door behind him, a bit overwhelmed by the racks lining the walls.
Outside, Jeremy called through the door. "Hey, Liam, 'zit okay if I call you Bud?"
Liam snickered, his head entangled in his polo as he tried to pull it off. The name seemed appropriate, even familiar. "Sure, dude. Whatever you want." He was up for pretty much anything his hunky new buddy suggested. Bud tossed his blue shirt to the floor and caught his reflection in a three-way mirror, a smile of recognition as he spotted the green marijuana leaf tattoo which he sported in the center of his sunken, hairless chest.
"Righteous, Bud!", Jeremy said, and nodded to a very pleased Evelyn.