You spent a while just getting used to the sensation of your near invisibility. It was less of a struggle than you'd thought it might be. For the most part, people just avoided you, treating you more like an object or an obstacle than a person. You were there, sure, but you weren't important enough for them to notice or think about. You were staying at your uncle's place during the school year, and so technically you should head there this morning--thankfully your uncle's shop and home was close enough that you could walk--but at the same time, you were having way too much fun to just go sit and class like this was any other day. You spent a couple hours just wandering around instead, poking your head into places that you might not have been able to get into before, but it was honestly a bit more boring than you might have expected, and no one really piqued your interest. Around lunch time, you decide to head for school anyway. Even if you keep the suit on, it would probably be a bit more fun around people you know anyway. You could even hang out in the teacher's lounge, and see what they're talking about in there!
As you're approaching school, there's a gas station about a block down. It's well known as the place some roughnecks hang out, and if you want cigarettes, rumor had it that one of the guys would be willing to sell them to students for the right price. You didn't smoke of course, you thought the habit was disgusting, but as you pass by the gas station, you see a kid from school going around behind the building. He's in your grade--a senior--but he's not someone you know well. You aren't even sure of his name. He's wearing a camo hat, a wrestling shirt with the sleeves ripped off, and is growing as much facial hair as his young mug can manage. Curious, you follow him around behind the building, and see him join a couple of other young men back there, who also look like they came from the rough side of the tracks, both of them smoking cigarettes.
One of them is a bit older than the other, and is from the polo shirt he's wearing, he clearly works at the gas station--probably on his lunch break too. He has a carton of cigarettes opened up, and as the guy from school comes hustling up, the fellow smiles, chucks a pack at him, and then pulls him in and gives him a light noogie, until the guy can shove him off. The other one, looking a little older, but probably not 21 yet, just laughs, and then they resume their conversation, the young one pulling out a cigarette from the pack and lighting it up like the other two.
The three of them couldn't have been more different from your own upbringing, but you were curious. If nothing else, it seemed like a good test of the suit, just to see what would happen if you used it. Nervously, and a little quiet, concerned they might hear you, even though you knew the suit covered your voice too, you said, "I want to fit in."
You'd had some expectations about what might happen next. Maybe some sort of transformation, maybe even a bit of a painful one, something like you might see in the movies. You'd find yourself in a new body, maybe with some additional thoughts, but you would still be, well, you. That, however, is not quite what happened at all.
One moment, you were standing there, in the suit, as yourself. The next second, you weren't standing there at all. Instead, someone entirely different had taken your place in reality, almost from one moment to the next. His name was Trent Hawkins. He was seventeen years old, and had been friends with Kenny--the guy you had recognized from school before--and his big brother Bob--who worked at the convenience store--almost his whole life. The third guy was named Blake, and Trent knew him pretty well too, though he'd always been Bob's friend more than Kenny's. Trent went to school, but had never been very smart. His one saving grace was that he was real good at football, and despite quite a few odds, looked like he might actually be good enough to get a solid athletic scholarship to one of the state schools. He wasn't too keen on the idea of college, but hey, it was probably better than whatever else he might get up to if he dropped out entirely--probably.
You were still there of course, or at least, your mind was. You were riding around inside Trent's head, somewhere. He had no idea that you were in there though, and while you could sense, somehow, that you could probably direct Trent's actions with enough willpower, the entire sensation of losing your body, and in some sense, your reality, had left you feeling mostly confused and bewildered. Trent though, was more than happy to steer himself for the time being--after all, Trent was out of cigs, and out of chaw, and he'd been fighting off this fucking headache all morning, just so he could get over here during his lunch break and get fresh supply of tobacco from Bob.
"There's America's next great football star," Bob said as Trent approached, "We were wondering if you were going to grace us with your presence today."
"Can it Bob," Trent said, "I need a pack and a can."
"Double duty today eh? Twenty bucks."
Trent grumbled, but fished out his ratty wallet, and passed him the crumpled twenty he had in there. Bob, in turn, passed him a fresh pack of cigarettes, and a can of chewing tobacco. Trent put the can in his back pocket, opened up the pack, pulled one out and lit it. Now, you hadn't smoked a day in your life, but Trent has been smoking half a pack for most of a year now. The coaches aren't too happy with his new habit, when they've caught him, but with the pressure of college scouts bearing down on him, he's found that smoking is one of the few things that can help with the anxiety. "You're a fucking ripoff artist, Bob."
"Hey, you know I don't have to accept payment in cash. I've spotted you plenty of times," Bob said.
You had just begun to get your bearings, riding along in Trent's mind, when that comment created a brand new whirlwind of memories--Trent's memories--that assaulted you as they appeared. Trent didn't always have the cash for his newfound habit, but Bob was fine with that. He'd spot him the pack, but before giving him another one, Bob would need a different kind of payment--Trent would have to give his friend's chubby older brother a blowjob, usually in the gas station bathroom after Bob's shift ended. To you, the memories felt real, like they were happening to you in the moment. You could feel Bob's belly resting on your forehead, taste the salty, sweaty flavor of his crotch, smell the dirty bathroom around you, baking in the afternoon sun. Worse, you could tell that Trent didn't exactly mind doing it. He'd always had a bit of a thing for Bob, and when Bob had suggested it one day as an alternate payment, more as a joke, Trent had, well, been a little too eager, perhaps. Now he paid often enough that he hoped Bob didn't think he just wanted his cock, though he did, kind of, want the big boy's cock, in all honesty.
And now, so did you. Rationally, you knew that you should be disgusted by what just happened, but looking at Bob, through Trent's eyes and through his thoughts, especially when Bob threw him another wink, you felt Trent's gut do a little flip inside. You tried to make the words come out. You wanted him to drag Trent into the bathroom right this second, throw you and Trent on his knees and feed him that thick cock of his, and...and you shouldn't want that, you weren't even gay, but Trent was, and so were you, while you were inside him. "I want to be ignored," you thought, trying to push the words out of Trent's mouth, but you still didn't quite know how to project your own will onto Trent's confusing mind, and so you didn't even managed to get out a mutter from his lips. You panicked then, a bit, but Trent didn't even notice you in his head.
Kenny bashed into him, making Trent curse and nearly lose his cigarette. "When the fuck are you comin' over to watch wrestling? I got all these new moves to show you."
"Come on Kenny, it's football season, I gotta focus on that."
"Whatever, you can come over after practice!"
More images now, more memories. Wrestling with Kenny, first with your clothes on, then with your clothes off. Whoever pinned the other got to top the loser. You were the usual victor, but Kenny was scrappy, and Trent, or you, or both of you, had taken his cock a fair number of times, enough to know that you liked it, just as much as you liked sucking Kenny's brother's cock in the gas station bathroom--not that Kenny knew about that, to your knowledge. No, Trent liked it, not you! These weren't your memories, they weren't! It was so hard keeping them separate, so hard for Trent to resist the urge to shove Kenny up against the wall of the gas station and start grinding his hard cock up against his ass. "Maybe...Maybe this weekend sometime."
"Whatever, I get it," Kenny said, and stepped back, "I gotta get back to class bros."
"Alright Kenny."
Kenny took off, leaving Trent there with just Bob and Blake now.
"Saw your last game," Blake said, "You're definitely gonna go far if you keep it up."
The compliment surprised Trent a bit. He knew Blake a little, but not as much as the two brothers. He'd dropped out a couple years back, and after a short stint working at the gas station with Bob, he'd quit, and now he was training to be a truck driver like his dad.
There was a crash inside the store, and Bob cursed under his breath. "God fuckin' damn it, guess that's the end of my break," he said, grabbed the rest of the carton and went inside, leaving Trent and Blake alone--and again, you could feel it welling up, the onslaught of memory. You tried to stop it, but reality rebuffed your anxiety, and you saw Trent and Blake, you and Blake, out in a field somewhere at night after taking a drive together in his truck, fucking and kissing and sucking and groping in the bed of his pickup for hours.
The memory receded, and you found Trent had moved closer to Blake, pushing him up against the side of his truck, the two of them kissing, swapping smoke, grinding their hard cocks up against one another through their jeans. You found yourself excited by it too, egging Trent on, but Blake eventually pushed him off. "My dad's out of town for a few days, was gonna have the guys over for a little party. You'll be there right? You won't blow me off like you do Kenny?"
"Of course I'll fuckin' be there, man," Trent said.
"Good. Now go on, get back to class. I gotta get to school myself."
Trent sighed, "I fuckin' hate school, I don't know why the fuck I'm playing either. I'd rather just fucking drop out and drive trucks with you."
Blake laughed, "Well, at least we have a backup plan, right?"
Trent stole another kiss from Blake, from his boyfriend, though neither of them were quite brave enough to utter those words to each other, and got in his truck. Before he left, he dug something out of the back and tossed it to Trent through the window. He caught it, and found himself holding an undershirt that looked like it had been worn quite a bit already. Trent held it up to his nose and took a long whiff of Blake's scent on the shirt, felt his cock throb and leak a bit in the front of his jeans.
"Something to keep you company until tonight," Blake said. "Try not to masturbate with it too much, save a load or two for me."
"Fuck you, you're a fuckin' tease," Trent said, "You know how much I love your stink."
"Yeah I do, love yours just as much."
Trent and Blake kissed one more time through the window, and then Trent walked away. Blake's shirt was tucked in the back of his pants, his pack of cigarettes was in his shirt pocket, and can of chewing tobacco settling in nicely in his back pocket. Now, away from all three of them, you managed to finally muster up enough will to drag Trent to a halt on the side of the building.
This was Trent's life, but Trent wasn't really supposed to exist. Trent was just a figment, this was you, this had to be you, didn't it? Already, Trent felt...more real, in some ways, than you ever had. His memories were fresher, his desires stronger, but as you calmed down and focused your own thoughts, pulling them out of the morass of Trentness you found yourself in, it got clearer. You could remember yourself. Maybe it would be best to take a breather, change back for a while, and regroup. Then again, Trent wanted...a lot of different things, and you wanted some of them too, now. Maybe it was worth the risk, to try and explore the world in Trent's shoes a little longer. After all, you were in control now. It was like riding a bike, you could convince yourself it would get easier with practice. What do you want to do?