You stare in shock as Spike immediately shrinks in size and stature. Not only is he becoming smaller but his muscles are shrinking away to nothingness as he stares up at you in horror. "Richard Allen Johnson!" a angry, gravely, almost hate filled voice bellows.
You want to turn your head to find who screamed at Spike but can't seem to make your head move. "What have I told you about wandering off?" the voice screams, dripping with venom. As you are stuck staring at Spike who appears to be somewhere between 8 and 10 you notice that he's wet himself. "You're pathetic and don't have the sense of a mutt, you must like beatings." You snicker at the turn of events not fully realizing the full effect of the wish.
"N-n-no Daddy" was all Spike could get out when suddenly you lurch forward and you feel your hand grab the small child, dragging him away from the picnic.
Uh-oh, you think to yourself realizing you don't have control of your body. You can feel the mass of your body with every step. Your pecs and belly shake, and you can feel the ground underneath your every step give just a little. Ten steps away you desperately wish that you had control of your body, but you are out of range of the wishing stone and you stalk off to your car dragging your son along.
Getting to your car you throw him into the passenger seat and growl, "Buckle up, last thing I need is for you to get me a ticket." Spike frantically grasps for the seatbelt his crotch is soaked.
Though you have never driven a car, your body goes through the motions like second nature. Exerting all the mental effort you can muster, you try to pull off to the side of the road which presents itself as a slight swerve, which "Mr. Johnson," your now dominant personality, immediately corrected. A second later you were rubbing your arm as though you were rubbing out a muscle spasm...
A moment later you pulled up to "your" house and trudged in silently, your "son" following. Without a seconds hesitation you suddenly whirled around, Ripped down Richards pants and began spanking him mercilessly. Although Spike was an ass, you actually felt bad, you could feel how much force your body was putting into each of the many swings. This was too much and you wanted to take control of your body and pick a different punishment for Spike. Instead you screamed over your wailing child, "Now go to your room!"
A moment later you found your body pouring itself a giant glass of some foul smelling amber alcohol, whiskey you guessed. And a moment after that, you were watching t.v. and drinking it straight. within an hour you stumble into the bathroom and get a glance at yourself in the mirror. You have to be in your late 20's or early thirties. It was hard to tell being drunk and in someone else's body, but you got the clear feeling of rage building, "Best years of my fucking life down the goddamned pisser." You began to put the pieces together, who Spike was, and why he was.
Mr. Johnson was probably in his late 20's and aging poorly due to his alcoholism. He doesn't know how to cope with raising a child and is bitter that he had to in the first place. So he is abusive toward the object of his hatred... Richard. Richard eventually gets saved by the system and bounces around becoming a bully because he doesn't know how to connect with people... except, in his nightmare, the system never saves him. You will be beating him until you kill him, he stands up to you and kills you, or he runs away.
This body was used to the alcohol though your mind was not. Being forced to possess someone else's body, without having control, and being drunk, was severely disorienting. Soon the straight liquor takes hold and Mr. Johnson passes out.