The school bus comes to a grinding halt as James looks at it in disbelief. His car had struggled on the twisted and root-infested path, so how on Earth was this huge bus able to make it anywhere? He walks around to the side of the bus, looking through the windows to see a bunch of high school-age guys horsing around. The door suddenly opens with a hissing sound, which sends a chill down James' spine. That chill is soon dissipated, though, with the sight of a fat man in an ill-fitting crimson polo and khakis standing at the door.
"'Oy, son! What're you doing there?" The fat man inquires as he steps down the school bus's steps onto the damp dirt.
"Uh, my car broke down a mile-or-so back and I've been waiting for help for about an hour. Could I borrow your phone to call for help, sir? Mine's dead."
"Of course, son,! We'll be sitting at this stop for a while, so hop on in," he says as he gestures to the bus's doorway, "Looks like a bit of rain might be comin' in soon, anyhow."
"Ah, thanks," James says as he makes his ways up the steps. Reaching the top step, James turns his head to look down the school bus's aisle way. The seats are full of muscular-looking guys wearing matching gray tank tops with some crimson design on the front. Looking at the guy in the closest seat to the front, James reads the design to be "Concord High Football - est. 1938"
"Ah, so y'all are a football team," James says as he turns around to face the fat man.
"Right you are, son," the fat man says as he rummages through his bag, pulls a phone out, and hands it to James.
"Thank you so much." James says as he looks down to punch in AAA's number. To his surprise, however, he is greeted by the phone's front-facing camera open and showing a guy that James does not recognize. This guy sports a fade around the sides of his head with his brown hair styled up, a square jaw, a tan face, and bright green eyes. Although the phone's screen cuts out just below his shoulders, James sees the gray straps of a tank top hooping over the guy's broad shoulders.
"Is this someone-" James claps his free hand to his mouth as he produces a voice completely foreign to his own. To his dismay and shock, the guy being shown on the phone does the same thing. The fat man smiles as he grabs the phone out of James' hand.
"Why don't you take a seat, James? Our star wide receiver doesn't need to fall when this bus starts going again!"
"What did you do to me? I'm a..." James trails off as he inspects himself. He's wearing the same gray tank top with the crimson design as the rest of the guys on the bus, with a pair of crimson basketball shorts to match. On his feet are a pair of white Nike sneakers with white socks sprouting from the top. A bit of cold metal brushes against his upper chest, and upon bringing a hand up to check it out, he discovers he is wearing a gold chain. James' memory begins to get a little hazy as he inspects himself more, eventually being snapped back to attention by the fat man speaking once again.
"I said, Why don't you take a seat, James?"
Almost instinctively, James replies, "Yes, Coach Springer." He turns away from Coach and begins walking down the bus's aisle way.
"Yo, James! We've got you a seat right here!" A familiar-looking guy with short, spiked blond hair is waving to him from about the middle section of the bus. Making his way toward him, James suddenly lurches forward, but he is caught by a couple guys sitting in the seats on either side of him.
"Haha, careful, dude," the guy to James' right says as helps James regain his balance.
"Thanks, Ethan. You, too, Sam," James says with his new deep and slightly douchey voice. Putting his hands on the backs of the seats to avoid falling again, James notices how much bigger he's gotten. His line of sight is a bit higher, and if he had to guess, he'd estimate he's about 6'1. His new tank top allows him to see the whole of his arms, and he is shocked by how big his delts, biceps, and forearms have become. Performing a sly and quick flex, he watches in wonder as he sees his muscles ripple under his tan skin. Passing a few more rows and marveling at how much his legs have beefed up, James slips into the row next to his friend, Noah.
Quickly dapping him up and smoothing his tank out, James says, "Dude, how much further till we're there? I'm glad that bus stop was there cause I had to go BAD."
Elbowing him with a sigh, Noah says, "That's why Coach says don't chug a bottle of Gatorade before we get on the bus. I swear it seems like you do this every time!"
"Not every time! Maybe the last couple, but only because these two schools have been forever away." With a final grumble, James pulls out the phone stuffed in the pocket of his basketball shorts. Upon touching it he gets a flash of memories, "What am I doing? How do I know these people?" His eyes catch Coach who mutters something under his breath upon locking eyes with James. Suddenly, James is relaxed back into his stupor and even deeper so.
Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he enters his passcode and opens Instagram. Going through a few people's stories, he sees his teammates taking group pics of themselves on the bus, the cheerleaders taking heavily edited selfies of themselves on their separate bus, and his friends outside of the team posing with their carpools. Reaching the last person's story, he clicks on his profile. His name: James Ventura, his football number: 14, and the name of his school: Concord High School. Setting his eyes on his most recent post, he spots himself with his girlfriend, Alyssa. She's a cheerleader, and she has long black hair, blue eyes, and a beautiful smile. The pic is of them after last game, and James looks at himself: He is wearing his jersey sleeveless, showing his pumped biceps. He's still sweating from the game, and his brown hair is wet and unruly. Looking back at Alyssa, he feels a tingle in his shorts. He exits Instagram before his shorts give away his horniness and sticks the phone back into his pocket. As he does so, Coach stands up and faces the team.
"Alright boys, we'll be arriving at Lincoln High School in about 10 minutes. Get pumped because we are about to CRUSH them. Got it?!"
"Yes, Coach!" The teams screams in unison. James feels a rush of adrenaline as his teammates begin sit-jumping in their seats. Joining in, James dives further into his new jock persona and forgets his old life more and more.