As Trent closed the door behind him, Ahmed sat there as a puddle, unable to move. He thought hard, trying to fashion some sort of hand or some eye or ear to know what was going on, but without the ring, he had no way of even sliding away as a liquid. As awful as it was being in Trent’s old weak body, and being immobilized in his own beefcake body, this was a new low. He wondered if he could even survive without being able to move, or if, possibly worse, he was now immortal as well as immobile. Only time would tell, and without being able to move, time was moving extra slowly.
He felt a creaking through the floor, and the sound of footsteps. A shot of both fear and hope hit him; maybe it was someone who could help. Or maybe it was Trent again, here to somehow make his life even worse. There was no way of knowing. Until — with the footsteps growing closer and closer — a finger touched the puddle. Suddenly Ahmed was electrified: he could move again! In a motion way too fast for an ordinary human to pull off or react to, his whole liquid form had jumped onto the man who had touched him, and knocked him back onto the ground. He began struggling, but Ahmed seeped into his mouth, nose, ears, pores, any way he could get inside the body. Soon there was no trace of the liquid of Trent’s old body, and Ahmed was in complete control. He stood up in his new body. He felt light, significantly skinnier than his older bulkier form, but far more fit than Trent’s old body. He looked in the mirror. He was Indian now. He had caramel skin and straight black hair again. He looked to be about 22, rather skinny, but well toned (he evidently worked out, lucky enough for Ahmed), with no facial hair.
Hmm, he thought. Perhaps it would be easier to pick up guys if his skin were lighter. He might attract less of the kind of prejudice he was used to receiving. He thought about oozing some of Trent’s old body onto his new skin; maybe that weak form could be of some use after all.
He found that he couldn’t. Maybe without the ring he couldn’t modify or merge any bodies; only take them over. Maybe he was still his liquid form, just inhabiting this new cute Indian boy. But what had happened to him? Was he still in the body somewhere, or had they traded places, or was he just gone? Ahmed thought about pulling himself out of the left arm. All of the sudden it began flailing about, trying to rip off an unseen attacker. Feeling nothing, it stopped. Evidently the Indian boy was still in there somewhere. He took back control over the arm, and lay back down on the bed. He closed his eyes, and concentrated. In the back of his mind he began to hear a voice, sobbing, saying “Where am I? What is this place? What was that stuff? What am I?”
Ahmed reached out and tried to talk to the boy. “Don’t worry, this is only temporary, until I can get my own body back.”
The voice stopped crying. “What? You can hear me?”
“Yes” Ahmed replied. “What’s your name?”
“Jason” said the voice.
“Well my name is Ahmed.” Someone stole my body and left me as a pool of liquid flesh. I promise I won’t do the same to you, but I need to figure out how to get it back first.”
The voice began to protest but Ahmed chose to stop listening. He got up from the bed, began taking his clothes off to inspect himself. Nice six-pack, well-proportioned muscles, uncircumcised (that was new!), and a nice ass, even if it felt like nothing had been in it before (either Jason was a súper-exclusive top, or, more likely, completely straight. Hmm. Sucks for Jason then lol
Jason’s clothes were rather shabby, just a slightly stained t-shirt and slightly ripped jeans, so Ahmed went downstairs to what was evidently Jason’s old apartment and found a nicer button down and jeans. He dressed quickly, then headed out to see if he could find Trent and get his body that he had worked so hard for back!