After a short time, Rodrick felt his dad drift off to sleep. Great, now he was trapped as underwear again. Only this time, he was being worn by his father, of all people. His dad hated briefs! Why would he put him on? The same went for Mr. Grimaldi. They just found a strange pair of underwear out of nowhere that could belong to anybody, and just put them on. This couldn't be a coincidence. Either both men were in on it (doubtful), or there was something else along with this whole undergarment transformation that just made people want to put him on. Whoever was behind this had a gross sense of humor. Rodrick would take special pleasure in beating some respect into them. It had been too long since he'd gotten his knuckles dirty. If Big Rich proved loyal, he could make use of the dumb ox. But, right now, he was stuck around his dad's extra wide waist.
After a few minutes, Rodrick found himself drifting off. Even without a body, Rodrick's mind still needed rest from the stress and exertion of the day. His last thoughts were a montage of sadistic revenge he would have once he found a way out of this.
Rigby was awoken by the sound of his cell phone ringing. He groaned and sat up in bed. He grabbed his phone and checked the caller ID, grimacing as he noticed the name "Hank" in big white letters. He sighed and tapped the green "Answer" button. "You got Rigby."
"Rigby, it's Hank." The deep voice on the other end sounded annoyed. "Scott and James never showed up this morning. I need you to come in to take their place."
Rigby sighed. "I just worked overtime last night, Hank."
"I know, but the client wants the project done soon, and we can't do nothing without at least one more guy."
Rigby pulled himself out of bed, his gut feeling extra heavy as he stood up. He noticed the gold-banded briefs under his taut stomach. He'd almost forgotten about them. "I'll be in as soon as I can, Hank."
"Thanks, Rigs. I owe you."
Rigby hung up his phone and stretched. It looked to be another long day. He grabbed a pair of jeans and a shirt, not bothering to change out of the underwear. He'd just put them on last night, and they felt really comfortable. He could see how they treated him after a long day of work. He quickly gathered his things, noting that at this time Rodrick should be at school and his wife was probably at work. He'd been hoping to have the day off after his extra-long work day, but that wasn't happening. He quickly downed a cup of awful tasting coffee and was out the door.
"Hey, it's Big Rig! I thought you had the day off."
Rigby pulled on his safety helmet and playfully elbowed the other man in the shoulder. "I gotta take the place of a couple lazy sons-a-bitches who decided not to show up for work today."
The other man was just as big and beefy as Rigby, though his beard was much longer and bushier, and he had more fat than muscle. He laughed. "Scott and James? Hoo, boy! Word is they were hitting the drinks extra hard last night. Personally, Rig, you're probably worth more than both those guys put together."
A whistle called both of the men's attention. Hank looked down from his position in the lifter he was operating. "Hey! Is this a construction site or is it book club? We've got work to do. Oh, and Rigby, thanks for coming in."
If there was one thing that Rodrick found more boring than watching gym class from the teacher's perspective, it was watching construction from his dad's perspective. He'd always found his dad's job to be incredibly boring. As a kid, he'd occasionally have to endure a boring day on his construction site as his dad worked. There was never anything fun or interesting to do there, and he could never get home soon enough.
Though, this time he was experiencing it though his father's five senses. Well, it was either that, experience the world from the perspective of his father's junk, or shut himself off in total blackness. Rodrick wanted to at least know what was going on around him. He found seeing the process as his father was a whole new experience. He could feel the strength in his dad's limbs as he pulled, lifted, and climbed. He felt ever pound of a jackhammer, every hit of a nail, and every turn of an electric screwdriver. What Rodrick didn't enjoy was the sway of his father's gut, and the stream of unhindered sweat that flowed from his hairless scalp. The thick hair covering his father's body made everything hot, sticky, and itchy. There was also the dull ache of his father's back and knees.
Rodrick did not envy his father. He'd been lucky enough to get the best parts, his blonde hair and affinity for building muscle. He did not want that thick gut, bald scalp, or hirsute body. Rodrick knew his best days were probably in high school. In truth, he'd been dreading graduation. Sure, he was good at football, but he'd never been scouted for a scholarship, nor were his grades good enough to earn him one. There was nothing he really wanted to go to college for, anyway. But, that would mean he would probably end up with a job like his father's, which he dreaded. Even as Rigby powered through the day, Rodrick couldn't see how his father could do this stuff over and over, day after day.
At noon, the workers broke for lunch, and Rigby was able to snarf down three sandwiches all to himself, and Rodrick could feel he was still hungry. No wonder his dad was fat. If nothing else, this day was a fascinating insight on his dad's eating habits.
Rigby wiped the sweat from his face as the left the construction site. It was getting to be late, but, thanks to his help, they were now ahead of schedule. Maybe now he could get some time off.
As he walked in the front door of his home, he ran into his wife on the phone, a worried expression on her face.
"No, I wasn't aware he hadn't been at school today. No... Well, no, but... I see." She looked up as Rigby entered. She didn't say a word, but her eyes said everything. "Right, well, I'll let you know if we see him. Thanks."
She hung up the phone and turned her attention to Rigby. "Rodrick wasn't at school today."
Rigby sighed. "Figures as much. He's pulled this stunt before, Matilda. He's probably-"
"Or yesterday. Nobody say him after his second period class. Apparently the last anybody saw of him was when he went to the gymnasium locker room. Then... nothing." She looked halfway between angry and worried. "Did you see him when you came home, yesterday?"
Rigby shrugged. "I didn't see him, but he was definitely here. He clogged the drain in the bathtub with a bunch of hair and left my razor out." Rigby rubbed at his beard. He hadn't trimmed it that morning in his rush to leave. "I mean, I knew the boy liked to shave his hair, but I had no idea he had so much."
Matilda scowled and pinched at the bridge of her nose. "Rigby! This is serious!"
"I am serious! Like I said, he's pulled this stunt before. He's probably staying at some friend's house. In a day or two he'll get tired of it and come back here. I should know. I was just like him when I was his age."
Matilda sat on the couch, her expression one of defeat. "This is exactly what the counselor said would happen. We're both so busy..." She looked up to her husband. "Have we been ignoring him?"
"No. Of course not..." Though, his tone of voice betrayed his uncertainty.
Matilda picked her phone back up. "Maybe I should call the police."
Rigby sat down next to his wife and put a sweaty arm over her shoulder. "No. That'll only make things worse. He'd never talk to us again. Just give him time. He'll come back." His voice deepened to a growl. "And then I'll give him a talking to he'll never forget."
Matilda nodded. "Well, at least let me call around, and find out where he might be."
Rigby sighed and stood up, removing his sweaty shirt. "Whatever makes you feel better. I need to take a shower. I'm just soaked in sweat." He absentmindedly tugged at his crotch, feeling the sweat-soaked underwear.