Finally, after an eventful round, it was once again John's time to roll the dice. He fidgeted in Paul's arms as his adult brother held him close to his body while retrieving the dice for him. He didn't like being so close to his sweaty, hairy torso. It was humiliating that his brother kept treating him like a baby. He may physically be one year old but that's beside the point! Paul held out the dice for him, each one was almost as large as his fists. He clutched onto the dice tightly, supported by Paul's far stronger hands. He marvelled at how even one of his brother's hands was large enough to clutch both of his fists and dice with room to spare. His palms felt rough against his supple baby arms. He shook Paul's hand away, then with all his baby might, chucked each dice across the board. It was a mediocre roll, but the cards were in his favor. He couldn't get any younger than he already was, he had nowhere to go but up!
Paul held him close to the board so he could move his piece. Everyone held their breath as he landed on another special space. John wiggled free of his grip and crawled up onto the table, eager to see what fate had for him. His best friend had just swapped ages with his dad and became a huge, hairy hulk thanks to the special space. Maybe the same could happen with Paul and himself...
As John gazed into the black circle, some unfamiliar words floated inside. John cocked his head in confusion, he couldn't make out what it said. Were they in a different language? He tried to sound it out in his mind, yet the more he struggled to read, the more foreign looking the squiggly symbols looked. In fact, could he even read? Maybe they were numbers. But he couldn't count either... John felt a wave of fear wash over him. Math, English, Geography, History, Sports, Gaming, everything he ever knew and loved, he couldn't recall a single thing about them! He couldn't even recognise them as concepts worth thinking about. He was too young to know these things.
John looked up from the board anxiously. Everyone gave him a look of pity. Why did they look at him like that? And more importantly, who were they? Something was screaming in his head that they were his friends, but that couldn't be true. The only person even close to his age was the boy to his right, and he was still far bigger and older than him. The boy had a concerned expression on his face.
Next to him were two men. They were his friends, it echoed in his mind. But how could they be? They were big college men with hairy chests, why would they want to spend time with a baby? They both whispered to each other. The red haired man looked frightened, the one with the moustache kept trying and failing to stifle his laughter.
At the back of the room, there was another being hunched on the bed. This couldn't be a man, John thought with fear. It was huge, bigger than anyone else there. It was covered with thick, dark blond hair all over its body, except for it's shiny head. It had a huge blond beard that it kept tugging, and it was growling to itself. There was a wild look in its eyes. Suddenly, it looked directly at him! John yelped and leapt off the table in a desperate attempt to get away from the beast, right into the lap of someone else.
He huddled against this person's body until he felt a warm, soothing hand stroke his head. Cautiously, he gazed up at the man whose lap he'd leapt onto. Like the other people, he looked very concerned for him. Deep down, John knew they were related, but he couldn't figure out how. He looked far too old to be his brother, yet too young to be his grandpa. As he gazed, the man subtly smiled. He looked so kind and tender. The half-rimmed glasses perched on his nose magnified his green eyes and the crows feet in the corners. A smile cracked through his salt and pepper beard, which was short and trimmed unlike the monster on the bed. There was only one possible explanation for who this man could be. "Dadda!" John cried, grasping onto his soft stomach.
All of that concern and worry Paul held was washed away with that single word. He beamed at everyone and delcared "Did you hear that? He called me dadda! He thinks I'm daddy, that's so sweet!"
"Don't get all soft, Paul." Jack grunted from behind him. He seemed surlier than usual, like something was bugging him. "You saw what it said in the circle. He thinks he's a baby now."
"I know... But doesn't that mean I should help him? He can't exactly do things by himself now..." Paul swooped John up into his strong arms and cradled him. In response, John nuzzled his head into his hairy pecs, as if seeking comfort and protection, making Paul blubber. His brother thought he was his father. After all the previous rounds where he kept shoving him away, it made his heart soar that finally, his brother felt something other than apathy for him.
The others weren't quiet so enraptured. Bob was the source of anxiety, as always. "Oh man, I thought it was bad enough that the game was changing our bodies, but changing our minds as well? I can't do this any more... We have to end it right now!"
Ellis grabbed onto his friend and rubbed his shoulders. "Woah, relajado! You know we can't abandon the game. Do you want John to stay a baby?" Bob shook his head. He knew he was acting irrationally, but he couldn't help it. He missed being a kid, when he was small and body hair-free and didn't have to worry about things like shaving or B.O. Ellis patted him on the back. "We're like halfway through. We have to commit."
Meanwhile, Hank watched as the two brothers bonded in such an unexpected way. He sighed "I remember when I used to cradle you like that, Jack. You were such a patient baby. You barely made a fuss... Now you're all grown up while I'm not..." It was strange knowing that his son was now not only a man, but was essentially his own father for the time being.
Jack barely paid attention to his dad's nostalgia. He was impatiently tapping his foot, and combing his fingers through his massive beard. He would have never considered growing such a lengthy, chest-smothering beard when he was younger, but now he understood why adult him had one. It was comforting to stroke, and to play with. And while he appreciated being bald more than he thought he would, it was nice to have some sort of hair to comb through when feeling on edge. Normally he'd be patient but there was something nagging at him in the back of his mind, a desire for something he couldn't quite place. He tried all he could to quieten its cries, yet nothing seemed to help.
While everyone was distracted with actual baby John, Jack got up from his bed and stretched down to his abandoned clothing. Something told him what he needed was buried within the pile. What was once a flimsy tank top was now a neutral coloured polo shirt and a lightweight jacket. It was good to know their clothes still changed while they weren't wearing them, he thought to himself. He grabbed the jacket and patted it down, coming across a suspicious bulge in the breast pocket. He reached inside for the contents, then sighed in relief. This was exactly what he'd been craving!
He never struck himself as the kind of person who would smoke. He hated the smell and the dangers of smoking were drilled into his brain. Yet here he was, holding an attractively carved pipe with a small bag of tobacco in one hand, and a pack of kitschy matches in the other. He carefully poured the tobacco into the bowl, lightly packing it tighter with his pinky finger. Satisfied, he clutched the tip of the pipe between his teeth and removed a match from its box, preparing to light the pipe. But as soon as he struck the match, there was a collective gasp around the room. "Jackson B. Mulligan!" Hank screeched in his high pitched voice, causing John to whine at a similar pitch. "What the fuck do you think you're doing!?"
Jack waved the match's flame out with a growl. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm going to smoke this pipe. I need to, I'm going mad without it!"
"You don't need to, you've never smoked a single day in your life, let alone a pipe. Where the hell did you find that anyway?"
"It was in my clothes. I guess adult me is a smoker. Today is full of surprises, huh?" Jack carefully poured the tobacco back into its pouch. He could tell he wouldn't be lighting it anytime soon.
Bob, of course, was next to decry his actions. "But smoking is so bad for you. It damages your lungs, and it can give you cancer... Heck, I don't even want to go into the effects of secondhand smoke on us. Especially little John."
Hank snapped back "Jesus, that's right! You can't smoke with a baby in the room. I may be just a kid for now, but I'm still your father and I forbid it!"
"Oh, you forbid it?" Jack said, sizing up against his dad. He crossed his arms and glared down at the pint-sized kid and laughed. "You can't tell me what to do. If you remember the last round, it swapped us around. I'm basically the dad now, and I'm going to smoke MY pipe!"
Noticing the tension in the room, Ellis tried to ease things with a joke. "Come on dude, it's bad enough that the light bouncing off your chrome dome keeps blinding me, don't make us breathe in your nasty smoke as well."
Jack rolled his eyes. "har har, just you wait, El. I've seen your family reunion pics, it's only a matter of time before you're just like me."
Ellis grinned. "Well the way this game is going, you'll probably have to wait in real-time for me to be like mi padre."
Jack turned back to his dad and said "That's something, you smoke all the time dad! With that tube thing you keep locked away."
Hank blushed and stammered "That's different! That's not 'smoking' smoking... The doctor prescribed it for mental health reasons. It's not tobacco, it's... It's just not tobacco!" Hank sighed and patted his son's thigh, since it was the only part of the body he could reach that wouldn't look awkward. "You know the risks of smoking. Hell, your gram-gram was a chain smoker, and it took her life in the end. Then there's John, who knows what that second-hand smoke could do to him at his age... I'm just saying there's a lot at risk here..."
Jack sighed and fell back onto his bed with an ominous whompf. He cringed at the noise, hoping he hadn't broken his bed. He tried to clear his mind and focus on the matter at hand. "I know what you're saying, I get it. I never expected to be a smoker in my life, but I guess this game made me one and it's killing me not to light up right now..."
Hank scratched the back of his neck. Addiction was a powerful thing. It took him years to get over his alcohol problem. Even now, he gets scared stiff of having a relapse. He hopped onto Jack's lap and cupped his tiny hands onto his bearded face. He still couldn't believe this was his son... "OK, since it's a part of the game, I'll let you smoke the pipe on one condition. You have to do it away from the rest of us. You can smoke anywhere but in here. I don't want you stinking up your bedroom."
Jack pondered over this. He didn't want to leave the room and miss out on all the fun. But he couldn't think clearly until he had his tobacco hit. He picked his dad up under the arms and put him on the floor, then pulled himself up from his bed. He groaned "Fine, I'll go smoke outside..." He gathered up his things, and stomped out of his room. He closed the door sharply behind him. He was a little frustrated, not truly understanding why they wouldn't let him smoke. Although maybe now was a good time to get a bit more acquainted with his new body, he thought to himself as he began to refill the bowl of his pipe.
There was a moment of silence as everyone gathered their thoughts. With John now acting like a real baby, and Jack acting like an immature brat in a bear's body, it was a struggle to continue. However, Paul picked up the dice in one hand while gripping his brother close to him in the other. "There's no point waiting for him to come back, right? Let's keep playing!". He rolled the dice across the board.