You shift your head around the attic and come across a small dusty photo album. Inside it consists of many different photos of Jack as a preteen; that is, IF it was really him. Unlike now, Jack apparently used to be relatively skinny and well groomed. A strong sense of concern arises in your head as you wonder what went wrong in your pal’s life. After skimming through a couple of pages, a particular photo grabs your attention. It was a picture of a teenage Jack with someone else. Unfortunately, part of the image was missing which made it difficult for you to determine who that person was. You flip the page and find more photos suffering the same phenomena. Arriving at the last page, you find a large portrait of Jack up against someone that you couldn't make out due to it also being cut.
A familiar smell lingers under your nose which causes you to turn around and find Jack at the entrance. He notices the album your holding and angrily demands for you to put it away. You do; however, you wanted to question him about the cut photos. Just before a word escapes your mouth, Jack goes into a tantrum about not messing with his stuff without asking, and leaves the attic. In the end, you decide not to bring up the photos as Jack seems to be really mad.
You proceed to follow after Jack; but before you exit, you pause and look back at the album. A small breeze airs from a boarded up window nearby and slowly travels its way through the attic. The loud voice of Jack commanding you to leave breaks your trance and you finally leave.
---
While you dust yourself off as you travel downstairs, your bladder begins to act up and Mother Nature calls. Jack commands you to use the downstairs bathroom; thus, you scurry onwards and flip on the lights when you arrive. Before taking another step, you gag as you discover the bathroom is in a complete filth. Used toilet rolls are circled around the piss-stained toilet, while mud, and other various grime, is encrusted on top of the cracked tiled flooring. A rusty steel bucket filled with damp water and garbage sat under a water leak at the far corner. From your view, the murky liquid appears to be brownish in color; making you wonder what exactly is within it. You begin to have second thoughts as a highly vile scent picks up as you approach. You creep away from it, lift the grungy toilet seat, and come across a pool of mushy blob-like stool afloat. “Diarrhea...,” you thought. Your nose screams in agony as you realize it is this (not the bucket) that is producing that wretched odor. Words of disgust escape your mouth as you complain about your friend’s absolute lack of cleanliness; Jack just grunts in response.
Despite the sheer amount of mess around you, you flush the toilet, unzip your fly, and begin to let it all go – onto the side of Jack’s toilet! Indeed; somehow you completely missed your target and your urine shoots out in a completely different direction than expected. You immediately adjust yourself and correctly finish emptying your bladder properly. Once done, you clean yourself up with the last bit of clean toilet paper and re-zip your fly. A pool of your own urine now lies in the corner of your friend’s bathroom; you know it’s only right to clean up after your own mess. After finding a filthy rag nearby, you proceed to bend down and scrub a small section. Upon closer inspection however, you see remnants of Jack’s own dried urine plastered around the same area. Like the stool in the toilet, the smell is utterly rancid and keeps you from advancing. Not wanting to act as his bathroom maid, you decide that all of this is his problem and left your piss there to dry alongside his. As you wash your hands within the cracked sink, you notice the air around you has become warmer. You examine yourself in the mirror and find you’ve built up quite a sweat. You douse your face with some cool water, turn the faucet off, and proceed to dry your hands with your shirt. Without looking back at the mess you made, you exit the bathroom and return to your spot on the couch.
---
Jack sits on top of his recliner next to you as he chugs down a big bottle of cold cheap beer. He belches boorishly soon afterward and sets the empty bottle on a tray overthrown with other empty bottles. Soon after, you notice your friend paying more attention to you than to the T.V., and you decide to question him why. He nudges his shoulder in the direction of your lower waist, and you look down to find a rather large wet spot bleeding through your pants. Embarrassed, you sigh heavily and tuck your shirt over the stained area.
As you mindlessly sit through an old made-for-tv movie with Jack, you begin to feel hotter and hotter. After an hour, you’re practically burning up. Jack recommends that you to take off your clothes and relax; however, you decide against it as you have somewhere to be this evening. As an alternative, Jack opens his cooler and tosses you a big bottle of beer. After a brief struggle to open the alcoholic beverage, Jack arises from his recliner, takes your bottle, and removes the cap for you with his teeth. He returns your beer and stylishly coin flips the bottle cap to you before heading back to his seat. You give him thanks and proceed to down some of the beer. While not necessarily tasty, the fluid is cold and soothing. You wipe your mouth and awed at how much you drank in one sitting. Soon after, you finish the rest of your beer and burp timidly. Jack is glad to see you liking it and offers another bottle. Figuring another wouldn’t hurt, you ask him to open the bottle. After he does, he holds it out, and you scoot closer to get it. Jack’s musky odor is as strong as ever; thus, after acquiring your beer, you quickly scoot back away from him. Now back in (relatively) fresh air, you begin downing your second bottle. Your head becomes light and you can feel yourself slowly becoming under the influence. Noticing how hot you still are, Jack brings his beer cooler over, positions it next to you on the couch, and urges you to have as many as you want. You oblige his offer and continue with your beer.
---
As the movie persists, Jack grins in delight as he watches you hastily down bottle after bottle. Your timid burping soon evolves into mild belches as you find yourself becoming more and more intoxicated. The credits begin to roll after you finish your seventh bottle, and in a drunken stupor, you inform Jack that you have to leave. Unfortunately, as you rise, your surroundings start to spin and you embarrassingly stumble about. Refusing to let you take off in such a state, Jack gets up and comes to your aid. You instantly pick up his sweaty scent (again) and start calling your friend all sorts of demeaning names as he shoulders you upstairs. Knowing that you’re not in a right state of mind, Jack ignores your demoralizing words, takes you into his bedroom, and sets you on top of his bed. As you continue to demand to be let go, Jack pleads for you to settle down. You soon angrily give up, curse him out, and fall on top of his pillows. Jack stays with you as your voice lowers and you slowly doze off.
Once you became sound asleep, Jack shrugs your shoulder and yells in your ear as to make sure you’re completely out cold. Once done; he smiles, raises you, and begins discarding your clothes one by one. His penis hardens within his cruddy boxers as he inhales your socks and shoes, and examines your fully naked body. Now that you’re completely nude, Jack calmly rests you back on top of his pillows, and then begins discarding his own filthy clothing. Once nude himself, he scratches his damp armpits, sneezes, and rubs his wide nose. Next, he grabs his smelly socks, happily slides them on your feet, and adjusts them to where your toes protrude from the holes. Jack finally joins you in the bed, turns a little to his side, and proceeds to get close. Suddenly, you mumble gibberish, turn to your side, and wrap your arms around him like a teddy bear. Jack at first was a little shaken by your sudden action; but seeing that you’re still asleep puts him at ease. He notices your nostrils widening and your snoring becoming louder and more wheeze-like. Now face to face with Jack, you then loudly pass gas on top of your friend’s bed. Jack smiles as he takes a whiff of the rancid smell in the air; then proceeds to mix his legs with yours, wrap one of his arms around your waist, and give you a goodnight kiss on your changing nose. He can rest peacefully knowing that you’ll be his and he’ll be yours come tomorrow.
---
Morning arises and birds can be heard chirping outside as they search for food. Inside the house, you slightly squirm on the bed as you regain consciousness. Dizziness overcomes you as you wake and wipe the crust from your eyes. Coming to your senses, you survey yourself and see you’re wearing nothing but torn socks. You then look around the area and you realize you don’t have a clue where you are. You try to recall what happened last night but your mind draws a blank. In fact, you can’t seem to remember anything at all. “Where am I; who am I?” are just some of the questions that swam in your head. You begin to panic; and then suddenly, a strangely familiar odor lingers under your nose. You hear moaning behind you and you turn around to find a naked, big bellied man in the same bed as you. The wide stranger has a long wild beard and has curly body hair all over. It then occurs to you that you must’ve slept with this guy last night and wonder why. He does look awfully familiar; maybe he might know something.
You walk to the other side of the bed and as soon as you touch the man’s furry shoulder, he begins to come to. As he groggily groans while waking, he catches a scent in the air and shakes his head. You desperately ask him who he is as he slowly rises from the bed and continues sniffing. He then turns to you and looks at you at surprise. You question him what’s wrong but he ignores your words and begins sniffing himself. He then smiles, get’s up, and begins sniffing your skin like an wild animal. You push him away and demand who he is. The guy nods, tells you his name is Jack, and declares you are his father.
As soon as he said that, your head is filled with various images of a baby Jack in your arms. You remember raising Jack from an adolescent and watching as your son grew and grew as the years go back. Even more memories of Jack are piled into your head which causes you to clutch your scalp and hiss in pain a little. You remember his birthday, his full name, his favorite foods and pastimes, and even when Jack dropped out of public school. You really are his dad; and like most fathers, you know your son in and out. This would explain why he looks so familiar to you previously. You felt deeply ashamed that you had completely forgotten such things and apologize to your boy. He accepts the apology, rubs your back, and then asks if you smell anything foul. You take a whiff of the air, but besides your son, you don’t smell anything out of the ordinary. Jack became really happy by your answer and proceeds to greatly express how much you smell like a rotting fish. He then laughs, raises your right arm, and begins heavily inhaling your armpits. Once again, you calmly push your son away and demand him to stop. Jack asks what's wrong with you as you let him sniff your pits all the time; and just after he said that, you remember letting your son lick the sweat from your pits the other day. Although flabbergasted that you would allow your kid to do such a thing, you are more concerned about why you don’t remember anything at all until Jack says something in particular.
As you sit on the bed and wonder what the heck is going on, Jack picks up a filthy wifebeater and some crude polka dot boxers off the floor, and then tosses them to you. You examine the wifebeater and find it covered in yellow and red stains. The neck collar and the sides are damp with sweat spatches and the lower middle of the shirt is engrossed with dirty palm prints and other grime. You wouldn’t be surprised if it has never been washed. A faintly familiar odor emanates from the clothing and you brush it against your nose to get a better smell. As you do; Jack comments that those undergarments are yours, and questions why you always go to sleep in the nude. Not surprisingly, as soon as he said those things, you remember always wearing these clothes and only taking them off when you’re hot or when you go to sleep. Another memory flashes in your head of you discarding these just before you fell asleep last night.
Despite what he and your memories are telling you, you can’t believe any of this and toss them onto the floor. You tell your son that the clothes aren’t yours as it has his odor to it. He reassures you that they’re yours and asks you to smell his own pits for proof. You angrily comply and proceed to lift your son’s left arm and smell his hairy pit. Although he possesses a strong odor, it isn’t reminiscent of the fishy scent of the shirt at all. In fact, your son smells more like a sweaty football player instead. It was a strong masculine odor. You can feel your nose becoming wet and your penis stiffing as it comes into contact with Jack’s lengthy but damp pit hair. A pleasure filled moan escapes your mouth as you became enthralled by your boy’s foul scent. You close your eyes, dive your face into your son’s pits, and passionately begin cleaning it with your tongue. Jack laughs, breaks your trance by backing away from you, and tells you not to spoil your dinner. You couldn’t believe what you had just done and begin anxiously spitting the taste and some hairs from your mouth. Jack tells you not to worry about it as he does the same to you all the time. Despite what he just said, you still think it’s wrong for a father to act upon his child in such a way. Jack laughs and mentions that you know you love doing it anyway. You then remember how you always lick the sweat from Jack’s armpits after he came home from practice or work. You did so ever since Jack’s 16th birthday when he (and you) came out the closet.
Jack taps your shoulder and asks if you’re going to smell your own pits anytime soon. As soon as you lift your arm, Jack smiles but gag’s from the grotesque smell. You on the other hand had to literally move your nose closest to your pit as possible in order to pick up the slightest scent. In the end, your son is right as you do smell a ghastly fishy odor emanating from yourself. Nevertheless, you tell Jack that you don’t smell as bad as he makes it out to be. He replies by saying that it’s because your nose is used to your own stench. He then walks towards you, picks up your undergarments, and hand’s them back. You look at the tattered clothes in your hands but still have an underlying feeling that these aren’t yours. Jack notices your hesitation and comes closer to remind you of your odor condition. He then asks for you to stop being so stubborn and take the prescription ointment your doctor had given you. His exact words are, “I know how much you and I love the way you smell dad, but even I can only take so much.”
You then realize everything your son said is correct. You love the way your boy smells; you love the way you smell; you indeed have a habit of sleeping in nude especially when your boy is in bed with you; and you are diagnosed with a serious and permanent odor condition.There are just 2 problems: How in the world have you forgotten all of this; and why is it that you can only recall things your son tells you? You drop the clothes on the bed and proceed to ask your son these questions as you’re certain he knows; especially since he knows so much about you.
Jack grows quiet for a bit, and finally replies that he doesn’t know what happened to your memories. He thinks it’s probably because you drunk so much of your favorite beer last night. “You really ought to stop drinking so much, pop. Your gut is only going to get bigger.”
As soon as he said that, you instantly freeze in place. You didn’t breathe; you heart didn’t beat; even the blood pumping in your body completely halted. To Jack, you were a complete statue. It was like time had stopped for you only. Suddenly, Jack watches as your stomach immediately widens and bulges out. Your waist, thighs, and buttocks also expand to support your new gut. Jack wasn’t satisfied and tells you how much you love to show off your big, firm, round stomach. By his words; your stomach grows even more and becomes very sphere-like and thick. To accompany the more prevalence of fat, your entire body quickly thickens and gains mass. Your previously skinny biceps has now been engrossed in thick layers or lard. Your neck and shoulders also thicken which causes your trapezius muscles to seemingly disappear under layers of fat. Finally your entire skull grows making your face wider and the back of your neck look even bigger. Before Jack unfreezes you, he tells you that the reason why your memory is messed up is because you’re suffering from a really bad hangover. “Just believe in me, pop. Your boy will help get all your memories back.” With that, Jack pushes your belly button which makes it naturally stick out and causes you to unfreeze.
You scratch your head as you remember all the beer you drunk last night. Jack walks up to you, rubs your big butterball belly, and asks if you gained a couple of pounds recently. You took that as a compliment as you nod, crack a smile, and proudly pat your firm gut. Just then, you began suffering the worst headache imaginable and you collapse back on top of the bed. Worried, Jack asks you what’s wrong, and you reply how much you hate having bad hangovers. An idea pops in your head that maybe it’s this bad hangover you’re suffering that made you lose your memories. Of course! It’s the only reasonable explanation. You figure that your boy is right, maybe you should lighten up on the booze... at least a little. Jack shoves a couple of chewable aspirin into your mouth and you began grinding them away. He then rubs the side of your face, kisses your forehead, and reassures you that everything will be fine. After you swallow the tablets, you chuckle a bit and tell him that you’re the father and you should be the one taking care of him.
Jack smiles and shakes his head. “Uh uh, pop, we take of each other, alright? We’ll always watch after each other.”
A tear rolls down Jack’s cheek and you ask him what’s wrong. Jack gives you a big hug, rubs his cheek on your sweaty chest, and confesses how much of a great father you are and how much he loves you. Hearing those words fills you with absolute joy. You then decide to wrap your arm around your little man, pull him closer to you, and give him a warm family hug full of love. “I love you to, boy,” you reply.
As the two of you playfully cuddle and fondles with the other’s penis, you ask your son if he can help get your memories kicking again. Jack happily complies and says he’ll do anything for his “papa bear.” Papa Bear eh? You really enjoyed the sound of that. You ball up your fist, give your son a playful yet rough noogy, and call him your “Tough Little Cub.” Jack laughs childishly and returns the noogy with a noogy of his own.
While the two smelly men continue to toy with each other; back within the attic, the photo album begins to glow and the previously cut pictures began to reform with your new image as Jack’s father. While there are still many changes underway and new memories for you to acquire, Reality and history is already in the process of rewriting themselves. The previous you no longer exist; you are now Jack’s beer bellied dad.