José took a long swig from his beer, considering his options. According to Miguel, there was no way back to his proper life. No 'easy' way at least, although maybe there was a route through the app? And what about his current life, there was a lot to like about it. His new body for starters, which he hasn't really had the chance to fully test drive. And at least with all the unknowns about what came next this life came with a job, an apartment, and a brother - someone who had gone through a similar issue and who José already felt familiarly warm towards. He could feel the intangible drag towards staying, towards seeping further into this life and this identity, and his old life feeling further and further away. And that sensation is what worried him - if he stayed, if he got settled and comfortable, there would be no way back. But that was only part of it he admitted to himself. There was undeniably an element of curiosity about who else he could become, what other lives were out there for the taking.
Looking at the account settings for the app, he saw now that it was registered for one José Contreras and not Josh Collins. So, he figured, if he tried on a new task and he didn't like the life that came with it, he could always just revert back to this identity - José - at the end of the task, right? No harm done. He opened up the Premium Task list, recognising that at least this time he would get to choose a task rather than have a random task thrust upon him. It was now well into the evening and José saw a lot of the usual tasks - deliver this item, help me assemble a desk, I'm hungover bring me McDonalds etc. - but nothing that gave any indication of the person he might become. José recognised the risk here but was also... was kind of excited. One task in particular caught Jose's eye: "I need someone to cover my bar shift!" José wasn't familiar with the bar and he hadn't been much of the going out type as Josh, but he knew that the street was only a short drive away. José figured that with night looming, it could be a fun way to make some cash, and kill some hours while he thought about his next move.
José dwelled on this. He remembered being more cautious, more reserved in his former life. Was he being a bit brash now, and was that a José trait? Or was he, deep down, excited about the prospect of trying on a new identity? Without giving it any more thought, he accepted the task and the app screen changed, showing him directions to the bar and a countdown to the start of his shift: 15 minutes. He needed to get a move on; who knew what this app might do if he missed a task. He grabbed his wallet and looked at his clothes - sweatpants and a t-shirt, not quite bar appropriate, but he chuckled as he realised the app would likely sort something out for him.
He made a move to leave, pausing at his got to the door. Should he say something to Miguel? There was that familial pull, even though he'd only known the guy for 30 minutes. He could even end up back at the apartment if he reverted to José at the end of his bar shift. He decided to leave it, figuring that Miguel would understand his choice. Maybe they would see each other late, or in another life.
José emerged on the street, the sun having already set. He got ready to jump in his truck when he realised the truck, and his keys, were gone. Apparently TaskRabbit had decided he didn't need a car for this particularly task, but in any event he would need to hurry if he was going to get to the bar on foot in time. And so he got directions to the bar on his phone, and started running. José was quickly thankful for his new fit body - his long, lean legs meant he was moving at pace and his breath stayed steady. A few minutes and blocks in though, it dawned on José that that ease was falling away slightly. It wasn't that he needed to catch his breath or that his muscles ached - he still felt great - but his pace had slowed a little bit. Had his running cadence changed? He looked down and the ground seemed ever so slightly closer, his footfall ever so slightly heavier. Was he shorter? That maybe wasn't surprising - as José he had been notably lanky - but it still felt strange. He tried to catch a reflection of himself in passing windows and cars, but he kept on running - he couldn't be late. The glimpses he managed to catch painted a slightly different reflection - of someone maybe not quite as tall, maybe a bit more built. Not at the level of stocky as his brother - not yet - but someone with a bit more heft to them.
José realised that he's now also a bit impeded by his clothes. The loose t-shirt and sweatpants combo have tightened and formed up without him noticing to something a bit more constricted - what appears to be a body hugging, long-sleeved henley and tight jeans. He tries to glance down to inspect further, but keeps his eyes on the pavement ahead of him. He manages to catch hints of pecs through the open henley - are the bigger? And did he spy dark hair on his chest, or dark skin? Or both? And speaking of hair, his medium length thick locks weren't bouncing around his head any more as he ran, and he could feel wind through his scalp and around his ears. José realised - with excitement and trepidation - that he had changed once again.
He was only five minutes away, still feeling fit. He realised that he knew how far away he was and the rest of the way there without having to use his phone for directions. That seeping knowledge could be unnerving José thought. In these last few blocks however, José felt the most unnerving change of all - all the passers-by who were eyeing him up, and all the passers-by he eyed up back. Being admired wasn't new to José - he was an attractive young guy who was used to attention from the ladies and who knew how to give them the right attention (wait, was he used to this Josh thought?) - so what was new wasn't the sensation of being eyed up but the fact that he was giving back attention to the ladies... and to the men. He has never been so conscious of the way that some of the guys he jogged past him up hungrily, or suddenly aware of the smiles or glances he was giving back. He was so distracted, he didn't even notice a form fitting leather jacket materialisingjust as he arrived outside his workplace - Jackals.
José paused at the door, and was about to inspect his new body when it slammed open and a man burst out. The man - maybe in his forties, but with that disheveled look that made age difficult to guess - had thinning salt and pepper hair, untidy stubble and a not insignificant paunch. All of that was at odds with his clearly fake tanned skin, his tight face (he'd undoubtedly had work), and expensive (if ill-fitting clothes). This was a guy who cared what people thought about him, even if he didn't know how to care for himself. "You, are you that TaskRabbit kid? Stepping in for Kyle right?" he asked in a thick, almost comically New York accent. "I swear that kid's a fucking liability." The man eyed him up and down. "Well, you definitely look the part, and Kyle promised me you'd have the skills to back it up so you'll do - I'm stretched as fuck today." He paused before raising his voice "well come on, I've not got all day, are you comin' in or what!" José tried to stifle a laugh before responding. "Eh, yeh sure man." He tried to avoid looking so surprised at the smooth, deep baritone that came from his mouth. He coughed and licked his lips - were they thicker? He followed the man inside, raising his hand to his throat - no stubble anymore, but instead a clearly bulging Adam's apple. He ran his hand through his hair and found cropped hair and tight curls. José followed the man into a brightly lit backroom. Shielding his eyes from the blaring overhead light, as his eyes readjusted he saw his hand. His black hand. He lowered it and finally saw himself in the dirty mirror ahead of him.
"Fucking hell" he muttered, once again in that deep bass. José had been a good looking guy, but this man - whoever he was now - was downright gorgeous. Perfectly proportionated facial features framed deep, soulful eyes. His luscious lips covered flawless white teeth and he couldn't help but run his hands once more through his perfectly cropped hair and skin tight fade. Even with that small arm action, he could feel his jacket bunching up around his clearly sizeable biceps. José stripped off his jacket and let it drop to the floor. His long-sleeved top perfectly hugged his muscular torso; his hard nipples and an outline of six-pack abs peaking through the material. This flowed down to jeans that extenuated his thick thighs and perfectly round ass. They also drew attention to his sizeable package - was he now bigger than José, or was he just getting hard at the sight of himself? And above all else, he was black now - a dazzlingly handsome black man. Sizing himself up, he was a bit shorter than he had been - maybe around 5'8 or 5'9 - but he more than made up for it with muscle. He wasn't quite at Miguel's size - Miguel's bulk was driven by his job as well as the gym - but this was clearly a body that was looked after.
He couldn't help but grope and squeeze his new chest, and legs, and ass, and even package and... "Ahem. I hope I'm not disturbing you too much pretty boy?" the man interrupted. "Sorry man" José replied in that smooth voice. The man laughed, "don't worry about it kid, I get it, you're hot. You want to feel yourself up in the mirror, be my guest. Just not on my time ok? Dump your stuff and hit the floor. We're expecting a full crowd tonight for the show, so I'll need you to pull a full shift, limited break. Got it?" José managed to pull himself away from the mirror - "A show?" he asked. The man chuckled, "Kyle didn't tell you what kind of establishment this was, did he? You'll catch on. Anyway, I gotta do the rounds. I'm Ronnie by the way, and you are?" Without pause, José responded "thanks man, I'm Jerome."
***
After dumping his keys (keys to where though?) and wallet (Jerome Carmichael, 28 years old - he'd been aged up!) in his locker, José hit the bar floor and it become immediately apparent what kind of show Ronnie was referring to. The bar space was littered with small stages, each topped by a dancer gyrating to the pulsing. The dancers - maybe eight or nine in total - seemed to José to cover a spectrum of genders, races, body types etc. - a short twink in a US flag jockstrap, a muscular woman with a shaved head and covered in tattoos, and a hairy older guy covered in sweat and gyrating in lucha mexican outfit. José noted the patrons of the bar were equally diverse as he pushed his way to and then behind the bustling bar.
José spotted two other bartenders, clearly being rushed off their feet. The two guys looked to be a similar age and their equally tight clothes showed off their hot bodies. This caused José to pause - he hadn't so actively considered guys as "hot" before or even paid as much attention to their clothes. Before he could think this through any further, he was ordered by the taller white bartender - Rufus - to make a round of mojitos for an impatient hen party. José once again felt that instinct kick in as he made the round of cocktails, spouted off a price to the customer, took the next order, grabbed ice from the back, changed a keg - he all came naturally to him. The bar was, however, sweltering. Rufus - who José was surprised to now see with his top off, abs on show - shouted over to José "you need to loosen up bro!" And so, José did. He started moving with the music, being more extravagant when making and shaking his cocktails, and started chatting and flirting with the customers. With everyone. Guy, gal or non-binary - everyone received a wink or a compliment or a flirty one-liner from José, it dawning on him that as well as once again changing his body and skills, TaskRabbit had also turned him bi. José was fairly relaxed about this all things considered, figuring that being a bartender who willing flirted with all his customers would lead to better service, and better tips. And there were some hot people in this bar, so maybe someone to take him home after.
José was getting into the swing of things as his shift continued and didn't even clock when he took off his shirt, his chest and pecs now out of display and dripping with sweat. He even had a few drinks that customers had bought for him. The music blaring, he felt confident and carefree in a way he couldn't ever remember being. The anxieties of the day - changing bodies, his parents not recognising him, having to avoid getting caught by the police, finding himself with a brother - all ebbed away.
His transquity was interrupted when he spotted Ronnie pushing his way to the bar and shout at him. "New guy - Jerome - I need to pull you from the bar, I need you to cover someone else for the rest of your shift, okay?" Jerome didn't think it though. He isn't the kind of guy to think two-steps or even one-step ahead. Jerome was a carefree guy who could only think about the here and now. "Sure thing boss, where do you need me?"