"Now, there's one more part to your punishment. I think I'd like to invite a special guest over." Eric starts to sputter out a protest, his bulky arms flailing upwards in agitation. He tries to grab at you, but trips over his own boxers, leaving him naked from the waist down. Your former dick flails flaccidly from the altered Eric's crotch, a familiar sight, but not from this distance or angle. You are painfully reminded of Eric's 4-incher hidden beneath your own clothing, a swap that will have to be dealt with soon, you think solemnly. "Fuck you, you asshole. I don't want anyone to see me looking like a fucking freakshow!", says Eric from his prone position.
Refocusing on the situation at hand, you speak with cold disinterest to the muscular dwarf. "First of all," you say, "you could have been 5'8", but that wasn't good enough for you. Secondly, you better watch your mouth. I don't think my guest will take kindly to you using words like "freakshow" to describe your new body." Eric pouts, knowing he's beaten. His temper is so hot he forgets his situation easily, but as far as he knows, you're able to do anything you want to him. You pull out your phone, heading to a nearby bathroom and closing the door behind you. You don't want Eric to try anything while you're distracted.
The digital ringer echoes in your ear as you wait for Terrence to pick up the phone. Unlike Eric, he actually picks up despite his changes. Must be a work habit. You don't know what he does exactly (past "bank" anyhow), but he's always talking about clients this and reports that. "Terrence Brooks," says the voice on the other end of the line. "Hi Terrence, it's [name]." You pause, waiting for his response. "Oh, [name]... I'm not sure you've ever called me before." If Terrence is rattled by his sudden change at all, his voice doesn't show it. His tone is perfectly calm and confident. "This actually isn't the best time, I'm a little under the weather today," he lies. "It's okay, Terrence. I know what just happened to you." Terrence is silent. The line stays quiet, so you continue, taking your cue. You suppose you do owe him an explanation. "I came into a magical ability recently," you say, "to swap features between any two people." Terrence is your friend, at least kind of, so you figure it's okay to trust him with this information. Surely he'll appreciate what you've done for him... right? "I see," the banker says, "but don't you think you should have asked me whether this was something I wanted?" He doesn't sound angry. His voice is really hard to read, you're beginning to realize. Clearly, serious Terrence is very different from gym banter Terrence.
"Well, to be honest, it was kind of a 'two birds with one stone'-type situation. I actually was trying to punish-- I mean, Eric is here, and actually, I was thinking that maybe you should come over too?" You're not even sure if that's what you want now. Terrence is throwing you off. You were expecting... well, you're not sure, actually. Maybe a "thank you" or even a terrified remark. But you weren't expecting such a formal response. The line is silent again. "Sorry, I don't know, I...", you begin. Terrence clears his throat assertively. "Well, maybe I should, if you're the one who did this. I suppose it would be interesting to see Eric taken down a peg, too. He's never been very kind to me. I guess I have something to wear, as well, I had ordered this box from Amazon, and the size came all wrong, and..." You let him continue talking, glad the more familiar, chatty Terrence is speaking with you now.
---
It's not long before Terrence is parked in the visitor lot of your apartment building, knocking at your front door. Thank god, you think, Eric has been getting pissier and pissier since he found out Terrence was coming. "You're one sadistic fuck," he says, as you go to greet your guest. You throw open the door and invite your visitor to enter. Terrence holds out his hand for a rather formal handshake and you oblige him.
Looking at Terrence feels a little uncanny. You had an image in your head while you spoke with him earlier, but somehow the reality doesn't quite live up to it. For starters, Terrence is dressed very unusually. He's wearing plastic gladiator armor as a shirt, and a pair of gray shorts with frills that are supposed to look like metallic embellishments. On his feet, he's wearing only socks and undersized sandals. You can see a lot of his body right now, and that's where more of the strangeness comes in. Honestly, in part because of his dwarfism, and in part because he's nearly 20 years your senior, you had never really thought about Terrence in a physical way. Sure, you knew he was well put-together, but here, he looks... well, hot! His hair is Eric's white-golden blonde, a look that seems to suit his well-proportioned face. His body looks incredible, too. Terrence was toned before, but now he looks like a lithe runner or a yoga instructor, lean muscles rippling out from his plastic chest covering.
"Interesting ring. Don't think I've seen that before," says Terrence, examining the magic trinket. You realize you're still absentmindedly shaking the man's hand and snap your palm back. "Uh, thanks, you say," scrambling to change the subject, "it's new. Interesting outfit." The older man chuckles. "Yeah, it was supposed to be for the costume ball at the bank next week, but they sent me a medium instead of an extra-small. I was going to return it but I guess it's lucky I didn't. Can't very well come to your front door naked, can I? Actually--" You cut him off before he launches into another winding story. "Eric's in here," you say, closing the door behind Terrence and guiding him to the living room. "You look rather tall, by the way," says the banker. You blush. "Yeah, I changed myself, too."
"Great," Eric whines. "Another asshole from the gym here to gloat." You turn to look at Terrence, who is smiling. "Not quite," he says... "I'm actually here to..."