"Well, enough time wasting," you grumble, grabbing another piece of the delicious fudge. "We'd better... we'd better..." Huh. You forgot what you had to say. You stare down at your hands. They look pudgy, with kinky black hairs jutting out of the knuckles. You turn them over and examine each side carefully. Did they always look that way? "We'd better WHAT?," Dirk asks expectantly. He's used to following your orders, and doesn't seem to know what to do without them. "Um, better play... this game thing...," you say. For some reason you feel less commanding than your usual self. Although, something about that thought seems strange... you're not a bossy person, are you?
Dirk grabs his dice and starts arranging his character sheet, placing tokens and diagrams onto the table. You recognize them, but for some reason you can't seem to make heads or tails of them... stats for Clop Speed? A Map of Equesika? Some sort of... pegasus thing named Dirk ShimmerWing? You run your tongue over your crooked teeth nervously, tasting the residue of fudge. You feel totally lost. Dirk is staring at you, waiting. You grab another piece and chew slowly, just to do something. As you bite down chunk after hyper-sweet chunk, it feels like a fog is lifting in your brain. "Where did you... this fudge... where did you get it again...?" Your voice sounds distant and foreign, something about your nasally drawl seeming off.
Dirk tilts his head. "The carnival, remember? I told you that me and my brother...," your chubby friend drones on, and you stop listening. The carnival. Why does that sound so familiar? Wait... weren't you there today? You're almost positive you were. And something happened. But... you can't seem to remember what. And why do you seem to remember spend the day looking for cartoon porn and masturbating? Dirk is still talking, but he stops when he sees how confused you look. "Marty?," he says with concern. Marty? Is that... is that your name? If you're not Marty, who are you. You look down at the fudge, something clicking quietly in your brain. Something is telling you that the fudge is... making you remember. What you're remembering, you're not exactly sure, but you grab another piece of the sticky candy.
Chewing quickly, you literally feel your mind clearing. You grab another piece, and another, smacking your lips loudly, letting out a momentous burp when you finish. The carnival... that damned carnival. You remember. You stand up and look down at yourself, letting out a soft whine. This is a nightmare, this has to be. You pinch your hairy, acne-dappled arm, but nothing happens. Your short, fat, body is still there, hairy gut poking out of a pungent t-shirt. "Marty? Talk to me," Dirk tries again. Is this guy even real? Or is this just a part of this fucked up prison of a body you're finding yourself in. "I'm not Marty," you say, deciding that Dirk might be trapped, too. "This isn't real." Dirk smiles, unsure. "Yeah, it's just a game, right, Marty Nighthoof?" You shake your head, stringy strands of hair slapping wetly against your fat face. "No, all of this. I wasn't like this this afternoon. That carnival did this to me." Your make-believe friend tilts his head in confusion. His voice drops to a squeaky whisper. "Were there... drugs in the fudge? Should I call an ambulance?"
You grunt in frustration, sliding a hand across your greasy face. The feeling disgusts you, and you force yourself not to think about it. "I was 30 earlier today, Dirk. I had a real job, I wasn't just some loser who lives in his parents' basement!" Your voice is rising to a screech, annoying even yourself. You refocus, trying to control this repulsive body. "So what are you saying then?" You feel for the chubby teen, his eyes following your movements in fear. You sound like a crazy person. You might as well just say it, there's no way you can sound any worse. "It was magic. Magic dice did this to me."
There is silence for a moment, and then your beach-ball stomach lets out a bellowing grumble. You feel the urge to fart and make great effort to resist it. Tears begin welling up in your eyes. No one deserves to be trapped in a body like this. Even the most underendowed nerd would probably be disgusted by your naked self. "Really?" Dirk looks more serious, standing up to his full height of 5'7". You're ashamed to think that he looks tall from your new viewpoint. You nod. "Yeah. You're the only person I've got right now, and I don't even know you. Not really, anyways." Your former friend nods slowly. "You don't sound like Marty, that's for sure..."
"Alright. I'll help you. But..."