Standing there, Trent--and you inside him--felt pulled in too many directions. He was plagued with indecision, and that was allowing you a chance to assert control over him again, though you could tell it might be fleeting. This is too much, you need to change back, and take a moment to get your head straight.
"I want..." you say in Trent's voice, only to be overwhelmed by a sudden desire, to go in, offer to prepay for your next pack of smokes, sucking Bob off in the gas station bathroom--No! no.
"I want to..." Catch up with Mikey, don't you? Trent's picked up a few moves, and positions himself from Blake and Bob, and maybe it was time Trent showed Mikey what he'd learned lately.
"I want to be..." alone in his fucking room, Blake's dirty undershirt pressed to his face, lip packed with plenty of tobacco, pumping his cock with his hand, getting close, spraying his load all over Blake's shirt, adding his own stink to it. Maybe going another round, just to make sure it stank like them both. It would be Trent's favorite fucking cumrag, he'd never wash it again, he'd--
"I want to be ignored!" you finally managed to shout, much louder than you'd anticipated, but by the time anyone had turned to see who had said it, they had already lost interest. You are standing there, still in the suit, panting a bit from the mental exertion of pushing against Trent's will. You'd imagined that some but of Trent would remain behind, but there was nothing. It was almost lonely, thinking all by yourself. Strange to dictate where your feet would step next. You'd only been a passenger for a matter of minutes, and it was a struggle to even remember how to move. You thought about tearing the suit off, throwing it in the dumpster, and making your way back to your uncle's without it, but that seemed like an overreaction. Not by much, though.
By the time you arrive back at your uncle's shop, you've mostly shaken the odd sensation, and were feeling like yourself, more or less. You slipped past your uncle and headed upstairs to the apartment above, reaching the guest room before you finally strip your way out of the suit, which you'd worn over your clothes that morning, just in case. You toss the suit on your bed, then sit down at the desk there, only to feel something odd in your back pocket.
You feel around, and sure enough, it's the can of chewing tobacco Bob had given you. You stand up, feel something flap against the seat of your pants, and sure enough, there's Blake's smelly undershirt. After a little hunting, you also find the pack of cigarettes as well. You set all three items on the table and stare at them, not quite sure what to do with any of it. After all, they aren't really your things, or rather, they weren't meant for you. They were meant for Trent, but now, here they are, in your possession.
Should you tell your uncle? This was all rather strange, and he would know what to do about it, though you also didn't want to get in trouble with him for taking the suit for a joyride without permission. You could still taste the cigarette on your lips, on Trent's lips, from earlier. Feel how he'd held it in his fingers. You hadn't tasted the chewing tobacco yourself, but there was a memory of a memory there, the sensation of a packed lip, the thrum of nicotine flooding Trent's body. And the smell coming off the shirt was strong, but also threatened to intoxicate you if you got too close. Trent's memories and desires might have disappeared with him, but they had still left impressions on you and your mind all the same.
Your cock was rock hard in the front of your jeans. It would be best to throw all of it in the trash, somewhere your uncle wouldn't find any of it, preferably. Hell, you could just chuck it right out the window. Or, you could...well, you knew where a box of matches might be in the kitchen, and with the window open, your uncle wouldn't smell anything, or...
The possibilities swirled around you a bit, as you considered what to do next...