Massaging a kid is easy, right? They're basically tiny humans, which means it won't take that much effort to squeeze their juvenile muscles. While choosing the first guy is enticing, it seems that another child has taken the mantle of his masseur. Ken could only think how ridiculous it would be for a child to massage an older guy. At least his situation is a bit better.
Ken squeezed through the crowd of sweating and smelly old men and found the kid sitting on the pebble floor. Like the rest, he's shirtless and wearing only a towel with a pocket for their Misfit phones. The kid was just a passing thought in the Petiole hall. Once met, soon to be forgotten so Ken did not bother to remember what he looked like much. Now that they met again, Ken paid more attention to his customer.
The kid looked like your ordinary runt on the street. But the closer he looked, the better it turned out for the kid. His skin is smooth, unblemished - a rare thing for children since they often get their wounds playing outside. His face is somewhat chubby. Cute, Ken thought. Other than his face, baby fat is prevalent on his stomach and flabby arms.
"So, mister. Name's Tim and I guess you'll be massaging these tired bones for the day. You know how to massage, right?" Tim asked. While he may be smaller and younger than Ken, it's strange that he has this feeling that this kid is older than what he seems. There's a disparity of maturity between them. It's a shame that Ken thinks he is standing on the lower pedestal.
"Yeah. I think so." Ken remembers massaging his dad a few times back when he was a child. Just squeeze and push muscles here and there, maybe with some oil dolloped on your palm, and it's easy bucks for a night in the cinema with Cole.
"Eh. Works enough for me." Tim knew his way into the spa and lead the two of them in their personal room a floor above the atrium. On a closer look, the place kind of looks like a hotel. There are low ambient yellow lights, crusty carpeting floor, and that overbearing sense of subtle dread you could find in liminal space. That changed quickly when they entered their room. It's spacious for the two of them. Ken partook in a massage from places like these in the past and this place looks like your typical one. The room is divided into two with a bamboo partition in between. The part immediate to the door is where they left their sandals. And by the looks of it, it's where they'll leave their towels as well. Tim removed the towel from his hips. Ken could see his 'thing', his small penis dangling between his legs. It's fine when it comes to looking penises of older men, but looking at kids feels obnoxious and juvenile. He feels like he's back in 5th grade again.
Tim saw how Ken is feeling queasy and he has no time for such dilly-dallying. "I've already seen tons of penises in my multiple stays over here and I doubt your penis is different than the rest." He pulled Ken's drapery and dragged him to the next part of the room.
In this part lies a white massage chair that looked a little too big for Ken. Nonetheless, he climbed aboard and placed his head on the hole in the table.
"There are oils in the cabinet. Use the lavender one since this kid's body likes the scent."
Ken opened the rattan cabinet and poured a dollop of lavender oil from the earthenware containers. He poured a little too much in his palm, so he rushed over to Tim and poured the slightly warm oily contents on his back. Some splashed on his own chest but he let him drip downwards, and prayed that he would not slip from them.
With the back oiled, Ken started the massage. He started from the top portion of Tim's bubbly and perfectly white butt where the tailbone would be and pushed the muscle upwards dragging a flab of skin along. He squeezed the firm scapula, feeling how soft and squirmy they are. He should be squeezing muscular trapezius' if he didn't choose this kid immediately. But this is the choice he made and this is the one he shall receive. It's not bad entirely. Massaging the Kid is easy as he thought.
"So, what's your story? Why did you come to the island, mister?" Tim asked, his voice quavering from the massage he's receiving.
"It's the summer break and Cole wanted a summer vacation with only the two of us for a change. We always spent time in our hometown just to get dragged back to our family's respective family drama." Ken said. "We don't have a lot of budgets so it's lucky that we found this island. How about you?"
"Oh, this kid's family comes to the island every year."
It's irking Ken now that he said it again, "Why do you talk always talk in the third person? Please don't take it as an offense, it's just irking me that's all. I understand if it's a personal quirk of yours."
Tim raised his head from the massage chair and looked at Ken. "Oh right, you're a newcomer. No wonder you're confused." He returned his head in the hole. "I'm actually a 35-year-old man living in Connecticut."
Was that a joke? A stupid lie to make Ken look stupid for believing it. Ken was about to say how preposterous and stupid it is but the kid continued his explanation.
"I came to this island to relax as you did. It was fun at the start, swapping bodies with people, possessing them, and getting controlled. In my third year here, this brat asked to swap bodies with me. Of course, I agreed. I swapped bodies with kids his age multiple times and everything went well most of the time. The next thing I knew, the kid liked my body so much that he fled the island still on my body! Like could you believe that?"
No. Ken doesn't believe that story but he keeps listening to the kid's wild imagination.
"I'm a 35-year-old single man with a receding hairline. I make decent money as a contractor but other than that, my life is mostly simple. I don't know what part of me that kid liked so much. I contacted him in more ways than one, and he is adamant that he stay in my body. I've told this kid's parents about the situation and guess what? They're fine with it. Insanity, I tell you. Complete insanity. Now, I get to live as the youngest child of a multimillionaire tech mogul father and a fashion designer of a mom. This situation of mine still has its perks but I still yearn for my real body, you know? I come back here every year, hoping that the kid would get tired of my body and return it to me. This is my fourth year coming back here and the brat is still hogging my body."
Ken chuckled. That was a cool story but the mystical elements meant that it's a total sham. "Yeah, and I'm actually the president of the US in this dork's body."
Tim bobbed his head out again, expecting that what Ken's saying is the truth. This place attracts even the wealthiest billionaires in the world. Seeing the president in another body isn't that farfetched. When he saw Ken's snickering face, Tim fumed. "You think this whole thing is a charade? Think again. Look at your hands!"
Ken was too busy laughing at Tim's story that he did not realize that his hands had sunk on Tim's back. It's like dipping your palm in concrete. It felt thick and warm and swore that he could feel something beating inside.
All the while, euphoria is flooding Tim's mind. "Yes…. Yes! Newcomers like you think possessing people is better but getting possessed is actually the greatest. It's one of the greatest high you're going to feel your entire life." He said in a half-moan.
Ken squirmed, tried to pull his hands from the pit of flesh. His hands won't budge and it seems that his arms are getting pulled deeper. "Wh- what is this? Get off me!" Ken screamed.
"What else? You're possessing this bo- ah! -body. Still think it's fake?"
Ken's arms are already gone and next was his shoulders. He tried pulling free but Tim pushed himself from the table and into Ken, speeding up the possession process. Tim's back is not skin-to-skin distance from Ken's chest, and there is no sign of it stopping. Tim squirmed like a worm, grinding his juvenile body in the older adult. Ken wanted to stand but Tim was too heavy for a fucking kid. He crawled on the floor seeking help. Anybody! Somebody! Just get this kid off of him.
Ken's face is now deep inside Tim's head. He could smell the lavender oils mixed with his sweat. The smell is pungent. He could not breathe. But how could he breathe when his head is inches inside this mound of bones and flesh. In the end, Ken gave up on the fight and let his body get absorbed in the smaller kid's body. On the brighter side of things, this whole situation ain't that bad. Here is the darkness of the abyss, he felt like a caterpillar wrapped in the warm embrace of a cocoon. The feeling however is only fleeting. Ken was pulled from the darkness and back into the shores of the living.
Ken was back in the massage room, feeling sweaty and oily all over his small and juvenile body. Wait. Did he say that right? He looked at his arm, there are small and flabby - not like his slender ones. His fingers are frail and unblemished. Looking down, his dick has shrunk back to when he was a child. It's as small as his pinky with the foreskin intact. In the mirror, he could see the face of the kid who just pushed his body on him. It's Tim! And holy fuck, Ken realized that the reflection was him. It is Tim.
"Th-" Ken stopped when he noticed that voice changed into the shrill of child's voice. "That fucking asshole!"