Fenton’s not close with any of the crew in the ship nor the new recruits. But if there’s one guy that has at least tried to strike multiple conversations with him, it would be the mechanic - Stoney Diaz. They pretty much have the same attitude but Stone’s not that much of an asshole. And contrary to his name, he has an avid dislike for drugs. But not to booze. He likes to drink a cold one after a whole day tinkering with is machines. Sometimes, they would drink together in a hidden room near the ship’s compartment for landing gears. Fenton would be stoned while Stone is busy laughing about some weird shit he watched on the Echo-Net. If there’s someone he could test this thing on Fenton’s hand, it would be him.
“Calling Diaz on the Mediator’s Office. A certain asshole broke into my office and made a dent on my desk.” Fenton said on the Comms Panel while stressing on the profanity.
It took a while but Stoney came through the door. He’s sweating, tired beyond his years and there’s a sludge of oil latched on his biceps. Before walking in, he wiped it all off with the towel dangling on his shoulders.
“You called me in?” Stoney asked.
“Yeah,”
“So, where’s the dent?”
Fenton looked around, “I- uh…” He didn’t really think this far through. In a mix of hurry and confusion, he grabbed the pipe, aimed at Stoney and blew. This time, the feeling of being sucked out from one’s body is heightened to something greater. Fenton first lost sensations in his extremities which then crept up from his leg and arms. The loss of feeling continued until all he could feel is the pinnacle point condensing in his lips. And that too was gone when the last of his air escaped his lungs.
He could feel himself coursing through the air, like a bee zooming in space at near light speed. He was free, unbound by the constraint of a physical body. The feeling seemed to never end until he hit something hard yet squishy. Like a wall of sponge, it absorbed his impact and his very essence. Fenton’s whole being simmered and evaporated on the surface of his target.
As for Stoney, he felt his consciousness dripping away. As if something wrapped over him and smothered him into the abyss. He closed his eyes and when he opened them, they were different. The shape and color were the same. But the way it peered and looked at things belongs to somebody else.
Fenton gasped. But his gasp was different, deeper and broader. His shoulders are killing him. Aside from the seething pain throbbing in his every fiber, they felt heavy and sore. He looked over his shoulders and he was surprised to see that they are big. Very big. On his other side was another big shoulder with a towel draped over it.
“What the fuck!?” His voice. It isn’t his own. It sounds like, “DIAZ!”
Fenton rose from the floor and rushed to where the mirror is. His suspicions were correct when he saw Stone’s face looking at him with wide brown eyes and cropped orange hair. He prodded his face and he could feel the touch of his fingers and the skin’s contact with his index. This- This is real. He couldn’t believe it but it’s real. It’s fucking real.
Fenton jumped from where he was standing and was met with a heavy thud of the tiled floor. He twirled around, feeling the heaviness of the entirety of his body. He sang, badly. He spoke curses that he can’t imagine Stoney saying. And most of all, Fenton looked where his imagination ran wild when the two of them are alone. He stripped the loose cotton shirt and shorts.
Stoney is a god. A muscular, brusque but manly god. His chest is fucking ripped and so are his well-sculpted abs. When he flexes, you could see the strength brimming in the biceps and the underside triceps. His legs are hairy but unlike the arms, you can still see the muscles under there.
Fenton looked behind him and saw his old body, lifeless and by his hypothesis, without a soul. He came over the lanky husk and lifted it off with ease.
“Am I really this lanky?” Fenton asked in his mind, still using his old body’s voice. He can easily lift him off the ground and play it like a ragdoll in the air. If he wills it, he could easily crush the skull with his bare fists. But he wouldn’t do that because as much as he’d like to stay, Stoney has his own life. Shitty as it may be, Fenton wouldn’t steal that.
But in the meantime…