Ermie glanced at a man in a baseball uniform entering Tonio's Pizza Plaza. Tim followed his gaze and watched this decent-looking dude standing at the side, looking at Tonio's menu. There was no reason for him to choose that long since Tonio's only had three flavors—four cheese, pepperoni, and Neapolitan.
Tim looked back at Ermie. "You mean—"
"Yeah!" Ermie said, half-scream. "Push your soul in him or something. I'm getting hungrier by the second, Tim."
Tim returned his gaze inside Tonio's and into the man he'd possess next. The guy looked to be in his late teens or early adulthood—it was hard to say from this distance. He was a hand taller than Tim, a bit wide on the shoulders, and had this shimmer in his wheat-colored hair. He wore a slightly rumpled baseball jersey bearing their town's bulldog mascot (how original) and a gym bag slung over his shoulders, likely fresh from practice.
Aside from stealing that guy's body, he wouldn't exactly be stealing his money and food, too. He would buy the pizza and eat the pizza, and technically, the pizza would still end up in that guy's stomach. All he'd steal was the experience of eating Tonio's delicious meal. And to be honest, he found it strange that he was feeling bad for the guy. He wasn't exactly an upstanding beacon of honor ever since he got these powers. He flashed Ravi's balls and allowed Ermie to fondle them.
"My stomach is fucking growling, dude." Ermie said as he raised his uniform and revealed the light rumble on his abdomen.
Tim sighed, bracing himself. For all he knows, he knew this would not be the craziest thing he'd do with this power, far from it. He clenched the rock in his pocket, took a deep breath, and focused on the baseball guy. He doesn't need the rock anymore to project his mind on another person's body, but it has this grounding feeling that ensures this will go without a hitch.
A moment later, he lurched with the world. He wasn't Tim anymore. He woke up to find himself in a different, good-smelling place filled with Italian paraphernalia. This place, Tonio's Pizza Plaza, has been around forever. It was one of those restaurants that looked like it had started out as a hole-in-the-wall, expanded way too fast, then gave up halfway through the renovation. The walls were a weird mix of old brick and bright red paint like someone had almost committed to an aesthetic but got distracted. There were checkered tablecloths on the booths, a few arcade machines shoved into a corner, and the same neon sign out front that had been flickering for as long as Tim could remember. Tim would have screamed cultural appropriation if the owner wasn't Italian himself.
Tim had been here a million times before, but standing here with a different perspective gave it a different paint. There was more garlic in the air, and the floor wasn't as sticky as he remembered. And it unnerved him to see Tonio smile at him for once. He half-expected him to chase him out because he and Ermie were notorious for always putting their fees on the tab.
Ermie walked in a moment later with wide eyes and a smile. Tonio was there to see him and was about to chase him out when Ermie and Autopilot came closer, telling the owner I'm here with them. Tonio returned to the oven with a grumble before hiding it with a smile.
As Tim thought before, the menu at Tonio's was simple. Three pizzas. No weird specialty flavors because those cost more money per Tonio. There were no gimmicks like discounts or promos. He does accept tabs, but only to a limit that Tim and Ermie often crossed. The first pizza was the budget-friendly four-cheese, which Tim and Ermie usually got. It was simple, and they loved how gooey it was. There was the fancier pepperoni, it's like four-cheese but with pepperoni. Replace the pepperoni with basil, and you have Neapolitan.
Tim was about to choose four cheese out of sheer habit when he opened his—no, baseball guy's wallet. And holy fucking shit! It was stacked. Not just a stack of ones, but crisp twenty-dollar bills still hot from the bank. Who was this guy, even? He looked at the waller and saw the name Denver Levitt. It was a bit familiar, but Tim couldn't put a finger where he heard it before.
With the bounty of cash on his palm, Tim had the bright idea to order one of each. And lest he forgot, three chocolate milkshakes for him, Ermie, and Autopilot. Fuck! It's like a dream come true. He could order what he wanted without worrying about his measly budget.
Tim heard Ermie barely containing the smile behind him. If that was enough to turn him into a giggling idiot, he'd be surprised to know Tim wasn't done.
"And… how much is the private booth upstairs?"
The cashier, a bored-looking teenager with a name tag that said Kyle, glanced up. "Uh, ten bucks for an hour."
Tim peeled a few bills from the stack and slid them across the counter. "We'll take it, but keep it open time. I'll pay the due after we're done."
The private booths at Tonio's had a bit of history. This town used to host a lot of mafia activity in the 80s when California got a bit cramped for its activities. They needed a place to discuss their big mafia ideas in private, and a pizza place that popped out of nowhere seemed like the best place. This place rarely saw customers at the start, which was fine since this place was made for laundering money and hosting secret meetings. Against their initial goals, people started coming in because the pizza was genuinely good tasting. With the place getting crowded, the mafia left, but Tonio and the booths remained. Nowadays, those booths became a dating hotspot for cheap-ass teenagers who wanted to experience Italy in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. And now, Tim and Ermie finally got inside.
And honestly, it wasn't that bad. It had dim, romantic lighting, and a single photo of "Big Tonio" hung on the wall. He looked happier in the picture, and he had a stereotypical mustache. Tim sat down and felt the seat stick on his plump bum. "Is it mandatory for baseball players to have massive cakes?" Tim said as he squeezed his bum.
Ermie pushed autopilot on the other side of the table and sat beside him. "Turn around, show me."
Tim flashed his bubbly ass toward Ermie and bent slightly to tighten its taut shape. All his life, he never thought a person's bum could have actual mass. Like this cheeks have weight and everything. He gave his ass one final shake before returning to the sticky chairs. Fuck! He wished those weren't from someone's cum or dried-up vaginal juices.
The food arrived in waves after ten minutes of waiting. They've been here a few times, so that's expected, but it didn't stop Ermie from groaning about his stomach. It's a sacrifice he'll have to make. One can't just rush perfection.
The milkshakes came first—thick and creamy, the kind where you had to suck so hard through the straw that your cheeks hurt. Well, Ermie's cheeks were pink from sucking while Tim had struggled a little. Did this body train to suck hard? Can people even do that? Anyway, the pizzas came next. Each one was a masterpiece of melted cheese and misshapen, crispy crust. The four-cheese glistened, the pepperoni curled into tiny grease-filled cups, and the Neapolitan was an experience.
For the first few bites, he forgot everything.
Forgot that he was technically stealing someone else's lunch. Forgot that he was inhabiting a body that wasn't his. It was just him and his pizza.
Across from him, Ermie alternated between giant bits of each pizza and enthusiastic slurps of his milkshake. There was no pattern to his feast, just animalistic hunger. He'd sometimes lean out of the private booth to order the pimply-cheeked waiter to bring them more milkshakes.
From Ermie, Tim glanced to Autopilot—his real body. It was eating, but in a manner completely opposite of the rabid animal beside him. It chewed methodically. Picked up slices at a steady, predictable pace. It sips the milkshake at even intervals and doesn't budge when Ermie accidentally drinks from his glass.
Slowly, Tim turned to Ermie and nudged him under the table with his foot. He wasn't used to this body's strength, so he might as well have kicked his friend. When he got Ermie's attention away from the sandwich of pizzas, he tilted his head toward Autopilot. "Does that not freak you out?"
Ermie followed his gaze, studied Autopilot for a second, and then shrugged as he tore through the pizza sandwich. "Eh," he said with his mouth full.
"Eh?"
Ermie swallowed his bite and washed it with half a glass of milkshake. He ordered his fifth then gazed back at Tim. "I mean, yeah. It's a little creepy since there were now two of you. One rock nerd is already enough." Tim kicked Ermie under the table, but he missed with a thud. "But honestly? Having two of you was worth it as long as I got to eat more of these pizzas. Waiter! Don't tell me the next pepperoni still isn't ready."
Tim discarded the creeping unease since he wouldn't get anywhere on that topic, while Ermie was busy stuffing his stupid face. There are way more important things to focus on right now. Namely—he had abs. He leaned back in the booth and patted his borrowed stomach. "Dude," he said, his chilly voice carrying just the right amount of smugness. "I have abs."
Ermie paused just long enough to look unimpressed. "Congrats?" he said, voice muffled by cheese.
"No, seriously". Tim sat up straighter and flexed his abdomen knowing he now had control of that part. He could feel it—muscle, real muscle, coiled beneath the uniform. He grew hyperaware of the lack of squishy feeling that he was used to in his actual body. His arms, too—leaner, stronger. He turned them over, watching the way muscles tensed.
For his entire life, Tim had been average except for his expertise with everything rock and mineral. He wasn't particularly athletic even though some of his classmates were beginning to take an interest in the stuff. He spent more time digging in dirt than doing anything remotely bulking exercise. But this baseball guy—Denver Levitt—he clearly put in work. Well, he needs to since he plays baseball. His shoulders felt broader, and his posture straightened. Even sitting still, there was this readiness in his limb, like his body was just waiting to sprint, throw, or swing a bat.
Ermie swallowed his bite and sighed. "Tim."
"Yeah?" He replied in a distracted, soft voice.
"You're ogling at yourself."
"Is that a bad thing?"
"I guess not."
Somehow, that conversation compelled Ermie to abandon his pizza and go to the washroom to clean his greasy hands. He came back, locked the booth door, and joined Tim in touching his body. His slightly chubby index traced the lines of his pecs and stomach. He was about to roam deeper but stopped himself. He could do that with Ravi, why stop now?
"Who's this guy, even? And is it just me or is he familiar?"
"I know, right? I swear I've seen this guy before. His name is Denver Levitt. It says so on the ID."
"Holy shit," Ermie stood on his knees on the chair, grabbed Tim's face, and squeezed him. "Did you honestly forget who this fucking guy is? Bah! You care more about rocks than the people around you, so I'm stupid for asking. Have you honestly not looked up at the walls whenever we go to school?"
The blurred image in Tim's head had suddenly grown clearer. "Join the baseball team. Become the next young baseball star like Denver Levitt!" The entire campus was flooded with this face, and they honestly became a blur in Tim's head. He blinked, chewing on the realization. He blinked again because Ermie still had his face in a death grip.
"Okay, okay—let go.." he mumbled, his voice coming out squished.
Ermie released him with an exasperated groan and flopped back into his seat. "I cannot believe you. We see his stupid face every single day. That explains why he's stacked with cash."
Tim rubbed his cheeks into feeling again. "To be fair, I try to look for rocks, not faces. And besides, I don't even care for baseball or any sports for that matter. His face was also everywhere so they just kind of blurred into the background."
Ermie jabbed a finger at him. "How does someone's face being everywhere make them less recognizable to you?" He threw up his hands. "He's literally the school's star athlete."
"Yeah, and I just found out I have abs. So, I was clearly not paying any attention."