Chase was muttering something to himself in the silence of his accelerating car. His hands kept a tight grip on the steering wheel as he stared dead ahead down the dark road, his eyes searching for something beyond the blinding headlights. What was he looking for? He wasn't sure. Something better, probably. He had been driving for well over half a day now with no direction or destination. He only stopped to get gas, stretch, take a quick piss, and eat like 2 Circle-K donuts. He wasn't even in his home state anymore. He had started out in Michigan, and now he was somewhere in south-eastern Texas, and from what he could tell he was pretty far away from any cities, as he hadn't seen any cars in almost thirty minutes.
It was pretty clear outside, and he had been driving for a while, so Chase decided to step outside and get some fresh air. As soon as he took his first step out he felt the intense pain of his driving cramps hit him like a bus moving 100 miles an hour. Ouch. First, he stood on his toes to stretch out his legs, letting out an audible moan. That would've been embarrassing if someone was watching. Then he grabbed his feet and pulled his legs up behind his back. After that he did some arm stretches, did a few quick laps around his car, some push ups, and some jumping jacks. The cold winter air felt nice against his skin as he moved, adding a nice layer of pleasure with his workout/stretch session.
Opening his trunk, he took out a plastic water bottle and gave it a quick chug. Exasperated, Chase climbed onto the bed of his red Toyota and lay flat on his back. He sighed as he looked up at the night sky. It was so nice, he thought, to be somewhere so devoid of human life that the stars are actually visible and the moon is the brightest thing in the sky. This was a great moment, he thought. He was glad that something good actually came out of this foolish trip after all.
-How did it come to this? Where did I go wrong? What happened?-
Just before leaving, Chase had gotten into a serious fight with his parents. -Yes, we've fought all the time but...- This fight was different from the others. His dad -was drunk. Me and mom could both tell when he walked inside. The intense smell of bourbon radiated off his breath as he began to yell.- Chase had met with his boyfriend Marcus only a couple of hours ago at Marcus' house with the purest intentions of just hanging out. It ended up being way more than just that. -We just got a little carried away, is all. And besides, why the hell did dad think it was a good idea to follow me home from work?- Chase's mother immediately took her husband's side, as usual, and began -to rip my heart into fucking shreds.- In tears, Chase grabbed his keys and wallet, left his phone, which his parents had a tracker on, -and I ran. It all happened so fast. I don't think I was even aware of how far I had driven by the time I could actually calm down and hear myself think.- But he was too far away from home to know how to get back without some sort of GPS, so he just didn't stop driving. And now he was on the other side of the country.
Did he feel any sense of freedom yet? Was he gone for long enough to try and think about the argument logically? No. He wasn't done running. He still knew that there was something out there, very close, that would stop this hurricane of unnecessary emotions raging on in his head. So, he got himself up, stepped right back into his car, and started the ignition. He was so close, he could feel it. -Just a little while longer. I'm almost there.-
1 Hour Later...
Chase was extremely confused. He had been driving for about an hour after his last stop and somehow it had gotten extremely foggy all of a sudden. The first thing he noticed before he hit the wall of mist was a sign that said "Welcome to BlueHaven, Texas! The Most Pleasant Stay In The South! Population: 1,279 and Growing!" It had been thirty minutes since he entered the fog, and he somehow still wasn't out of the seemingly small town. And what was stranger was the fact that it actually felt like he was lost, despite not having any destination. The roads seemed to constantly twist and turn, and the dense layer of fog was starting to get annoying.
Frustrated, Chase pulled into the nearest lot, which was packed with dirty trucks, a few semis, and a whole lot of motorcycles. The rustic wooden building the lot surrounded had a neon luminescent sign hanging above the door that read, "O'Nelly's Tavern."
"Great, a biker bar." Chase sighed. He really didn't want to get back on the road, so this was his only option to get any directions. He knew that he was only 18, but he could still ask the bouncer for some quick directions. As he opened his door to step out of his car, he felt the humid mist hit his face, and it actually kinda stung? It wasn't cold or anything, there was just a feeling like a spark that ran over his whole body. He shrugged it off and began heading towards the front door, not noticing that his clean red Toyota had just turned into a dirty brown pickup truck, or the fact that his running shoes were now a pair of very muddy boots.
The parking lot was fairly big and he had to park pretty far away from the front because of how busy it was, so he had to walk a bit. As he was walking, he failed to notice that his clothes were changing, as he was too concentrated on his own thoughts. His boots were brown and made of leather, and they were crusted with years worth of dry mud. His track pants morphed into a pair of dark blue jeans with a black belt, and they were also stained with mud, beer, and cigarette ash. His clean grey short sleeved shirt turned into a very stained white wife beater, which was covered up by a leather jacket that appeared out of nowhere. A red and white brimmed trucker hat also appeared on top of his head, with blue stitched in words that read "Trucker Bod". His wallet also changed into a chunkier black one with way more cash, some of it counterfeit, and his keys changed to match the pickup his car had just turned into. A dirty, cracked flip-phone also appeared in the pocket of his jacket.
As Chase got closer to the front, he started to feel a bit exasperated. ~Damn, this is why I don't park in the back of the goddamn lot! I just got off work and my whole body's sore!~ -Wait, what?- Chase stopped walking for a second to think about what he just thought. Hadn't he been driving the whole day? What made him think he had just gotten off work. Even so, being that he worked at a Smoothie King, Chase didn't usually find himself sore after work. He shrugged the thought off as his just being nervous and continued walking.
Each step that Chase took from this point on was different from the last. The first noticeable change was his height and weight; his body stretched outwards like a balloon, as his gut filled in with fat and his arms and legs became much bulkier than before, in contrast to his slight diminished height. You might think that this change would phase Chase as to stop and take a look at himself, and you would be wrong. Once Chase has started thinking about one thing, nothing can interrupt his thoughts. Not even the feeling of a crap ton of hair growing and filling out all over his entire body, or the feeling of his new scraggly beard scratching his dry, cracked skin.
Chase's hair changed from a light blonde to a very dirty brown as its style went from clean to absurdly unkempt, as dirt and other such debris could be seen stuck inside the dirty mop. His teeth began to grow brown from a horrible diet, and his eyes turned from his previously emerald green to a dark ocean blue. His nails turned yellow from all of the physical labor the body has endured, and his hands and feet grew in size as well, by a considerable amount. Some of his upper body filled in with more muscle than before, as well as his legs, but his beer gut remained due to years of eating and drinking whatever the hell the body came across. It could also be surmised that he was getting considerably older, as his already terrible hairline was plagued with a faint grayness. Oh and yeah, his cock and balls got wayyyy bigger and wayyy fatter than before. Like, surprisingly more than would be expected from a body this aesthetically displeasing.
What was stranger than this entire change, however, was the fact that Chase had still somehow not noticed any of this, no matter how noticeable his now 8 inch erection was. What did catch Chase off guard, however, was this next exchange he shared with the bar bouncer.
"Pardon me, but I do seem to have gotten myself lost in this goddamn maze of a misty town on my way out towards Alabama, do you reckon you could give me any direction as to where the nearest exit is, or perhaps lend an old soul some sort 'a map?"
-Wait what the fuck?- Wait what the fuck was indeed the right reaction for this particular situation. After somehow not noticing the fact that not just his body, but also his entire set of clothes had changed within the span of 30 seconds of walking, he had just asked this man directions in the most deep, hillbilly, and honestly surprisingly attractive voice and accent he had ever heard in his life. Not only that, but he called himself an old soul. On accident. How the hell does that happen?
Instead of giving directions like Chase had just asked him, the bouncer starred deep into Chase's newly blue and very confused looking eyes for a few seconds before busting out into a fit of laughter.
"HAHAHAHAHA!!! Damn, Chester, you really are too damn funny! Get'cher ass in here and let me order 'ya a drink, pal!"
Chase, or Chester, whoever the fuck he was, had no words as the man put his heavy hand on his shoulder and pulled him inside, laughing as he did. Despite the bouncer's upbeat attitude, Chase was freaking the fuck out. Not externally, no, never in a million years would he ever express his intense emotions outwardly, that would be downright crazy! But yes, he was freaking out.
He was pulled to the bar and he had a seat on a very decrepit looking wooden bar-stool, as the weight of his new body forced a heavy creaking sound out of the thing, almost like it was being tortured. Chase, tense and confused as he was, did what he does best, assess the extremely confusing and possibly embarrassing situation so that things don't end up embarrassing in the slightest.
Both the barkeeper, a tall, suave black man in his mid to late 30's, who was so out of place in this environment that Chase wasn't sure how he got this guy in the first place, wasn't paying too much attention to the extremely well-built bouncer as he chatted away, letting loose their names, Nathan (the barkeep), and Ricky (the bouncer). Chase surmised that due to Ricky's chatty nature, he could probably take a quick peep at the now three things he felt in his pockets.
First, he pulled out his keys, which had turned into the keys for his brand new crusty-ass pickup truck. Then, he pulled out his wallet, which was now way thicker and made out of leather. He quickly opened it and pulled out his ID, as he gasped quietly in surprise at what it read:
Chester G. Hickey
Aged 51 Years, Born March 17th, 1971
[IMAGINE A RANDOM HOUSE ADDRESS HERE] BlueHaven, Texas. [IMAGINE A ZIPCODE HERE]
-What. The. Fuck.- This was extremely weird. He was not Chester G. Hickey, and he surely wasn't 51 years old! Rather than start to hyperventilate like a normal person, he held back his emotions and said, again in his weird sounding voice,
"Well ya'll, I know I just got here and all but I haven't been able to take a proper leak in a hell of a long time and it's catchin' up to me, so excuse me for a moment." He both loved and hated how his voice sounded.
As he stepped into the restroom, the first thing he noticed was the assault on his nose that the harsh smell of BO, floor urine, beer and other toilet shit combined into. Trying to ignore the pain his senses were experiencing, he approached the mirror with an expression of shock and disbelief. He wasn't just having a stroke, he was literally not himself. Now was the time to hyperventilate.
He was able to open his new phone and searched desperately for his old contacts, and to his dismay, the only names he recognized were those of Nathan and Ricky. He then tried to call his parents number. It did not go well. I'll spare you from the details of the utter despair that Chase felt when his parents told him that they "...don't know anybody named Chase." and "Who the hell is this?" But yeah, it felt like reality was crumbling all around him. He also tried to call his boyfriend, who proceeded to immediately hang up and block his number.
Feeling a sense of overwhelming dread flow across his entire body, Chase let out a series of sharp cries as he tried to think about what had just happened. Within a matter of 5 minutes, he had not only turned into a new person entirely, but also found out that his entire existence as Chase no longer exists. He has been and always will be Chester.
-But wait, if I can remember my past life, I'm still not technically gone. I'm in here, and I'm in control, not this Chester. I can still do something!-
~Not likely pal..~
"Who the in the everlivin' fuck was that?"
~The name's Chester, and you're in my goddamn body. So why don't you do me a favor and get the hell out!~
And suddenly the voice was gone again. That was both his voice, and also someone else. Probably Chester, the "owner" of the body that Chase was currently inhabiting. Somehow, Chase had full control. Obviously he was glad that he didn't just give in to Chester's demands, but he still felt slightly bad that he was essentially taking his body out for a joyride while Chester tried desperately to backseat drive inside his mind. But now was not the time to be sad or sorry for anyone. He had to go to his new home and figure out what the hell was going on.
As he left the restroom, he went back up to the bar to say goodbye to Nathan and Ricky so they wouldn't perceive him as rude. But as he got back to where Ricky was sitting, he was gone, and instead there was an equally chatty busty redhead girl sitting in his spot. Chase inquired as to where Ricky had gone, but both the girl and Nathan were confused and asked who he was talking about, saying that their bouncer's name is Hank, he isn't nearly as chatty as Ricky was, and the girl sitting in his spot's name is Rikki with two k's.
As Chase ran back to his car, he added the fact that he wasn't the only one who changed into his head, but he was somehow the only one so far to actually notice these changes in reality were happening. As he got into his car, he pushed aside some beer cans that were scattered across the dashboard and began the ignition, and called upon Chester's memories of driving home after going to the bar to reach Chase's first destination in this strange journey away from home. And the only other thing he was thinking about other than his goal was the fact that he really had to take a piss.
Will Chase get to Chester's house and find any answers about his new life or even how he ended up in his new life? Or will fate strike and defer him elsewhere?