You can't blame me for being a little wound up.
In less than an hour, I had hit one of the hottest guys on campus with my car, watched as his body deflated in front of my eyes... and then taken the resulting "suit" home and then put it on to fool the cops.
As soon as the cops left, I stumbled into the living room feeling awkward and off-balance in the Patrick suit, falling heavily back into my favorite chair. It was weird, fitting in the chair different, looking around at my apartment from an entirely different perspective.
I looked down at the foreign body that I was... wearing. It was bizzare, to say the least. I found myself focusing on the freckles and scars that were unique to Patrick's body... Yes, sure enough, there they were right in front of me, just as if it was Patrick's skin that I was examining.
I noticed the muscles moving underneath the skin, reacting just like they should with every twist and flex... his muscles were so much bigger and fuller than what I was used to controlling. I felt so strong, rolling up the sleeves of the hoodie and pumping up his biceps as warm blood coursed underneath the thick peaks.
My heart was beating so fast... feeling guilty, but excited. Worried about getting caught, and at the same time just wanting to wallow in the moment, in the incredible feelings that I was getting from this shell that was covering my entire body.
I took a deep breath to calm myself down. It was amazing feeling how much more air I could take into this big chest... watching Patrick's meaty pecs rise and fall rythmically under the hoodie...
I needed to take the suit off. This wasn't right, I thought. I felt around the back of Patrick's head, and with a little bit of fingering (still not quite used to Patrick's thicker fingers and meatier hands) I was able to find the seam. I felt my own hair underneath, sweaty and matted down. I stopped for a moment... maybe I could leave the suit on for just a little bit longer. Or maybe I really should take it off...