"Francisco! Hey, lover, where you hiding, baby?"
Marco's deep voice boomed thorugh the closed bedroom door.
"Darn, darn, darn," thought Ric, "I've got to do something - quick!"
Closing his eyes and wishing to all the gods above for help, he flipped through the book's pages, stopping at what he felt sure was a 'lucky' choice and began
reading in a low montone.
"... eterna ...sic tempus ... juven ... mutatus collegium ..."
"Uh, Ric, whatever you're doing ... whoa," a startled Josh hissed. Then silence.
Too late. There were no more words on the page.
Ric put the book down and crossed his fingers. Looking up, he noticed Mr. Mendes staring at him and Josh, but - wasn't he a toddler? He looked at least 6 or 7
now. That was the last thing Ric remembered when a fog rolled over his consciousness. the next thing he knew he was stangin in the living room, hand on the
doorknob of the front entrance.
"Huh?" he mumbled, then cleared his throat. "Mmm -- hmmm -- HMMM." Well, that was weird - that was much lower than his normal voice, and ... "Hey, why's
everything so ... funny?" he thought.
Out of habit, he took a step into the room, throwing the door shut behind him. **BANG** "Geez, I didn't mean to slam it that, uh, --- hard...?" The train of
thought stopped abruptly when he focused on the arm attached to the hand that had shut the door. Long, lean, olive-toned, muscular. "What the?" He stumbled into
the kitchen unsteadily, not used to the change in his body and center of gravity. Mr. Mendes had some of those reflective mylar magnets on the refrigerator door.
Ric hunched down (he had to hunch to get to that level!) and moved his head around to try and get as much of a view as possible. "Oh, crap - that's not me, is it?
what the holy hell did I do?"
He couldn't place the slightly distorted reflection - dark hair, cafe au lait skin, and .... he ran his fingers over it to confirm what he'd thought he saw. Yes, a goatee!
Could it be?
Spotting a picture of Mr. mendes' boyfriend under a pink triangle magnet, he held it up next to his wavering reflection in the small silver square.
It.
Was.
True.
He was Marco.
Or, at least, he was still the same Ric, but in Marco's body.
Irresistably driven, he stood upright and began to run his, uh, Marco's, uh, no - HIS hands from the top of his head down to his feet and back up again, feeling the
outlines and contours of this new shape. "Damn! That Marco is one buff dude," he thought. "Let's see about...."
And with that he plunged both hands under the leather belt of his jeans. "Ha!" he snorted. Marco may be a muscle dude, and Mr. mendes really likes him and all,
but he sure ain't got a lot -- down there."
In real time, all this had taken maybe one minute, though of course it had seemed much longer to the shaken but quickly recovering Ric.
faculties coming into focus, Ric realized:
1) "I really need to get a hold of that book"
2) "I wonder what else -- changed?"
and loped towards the bedroom.
Sucking in the deepest breath he'd ever taken, Ric turned the knob and threw the door open.