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Rocking a punk

I had tried to run into Martin Jenkins for some time, an old classmate of mine, who didn’t care the slightest for me, and it was mutual. But that feeling had changed, since I discovered how he had matured. He was still a punk, don’t get me wrong, he had a temper and could easily get into a fight, but he had potential now… Potential that I could bring forth, with a little help from my father’s pharmaceutical company.

“Hi Jenkins,” I said as I walked up to him, it had taken me quite some time to build up the courage to approach him, there was something intimidating yet imposing about him, especially with the black leather biker jacket, a cigarette between his lips and the fact I was like a twig in comparison. He looked at me like a complete stranger, then he realised, who I was… I think… He didn’t actually say my name, maybe he had almost completely forgotten me.

“Oh, hi” Martin replied still looking at me with disinterest. There wasn’t really any reason to reminiscence the ‘good old days’, so I just cut straight to the chase. “I heard you’ve been looking for a job,” I said, he raised an eyebrow in return: “Where did you hear that? Does everybody know, I’m out of a job?” he grumbled. “Yes, I heard it from one of the others,” I said, hoping he didn’t see through the lie, it was clear, that he was distrustful of me. “The pharmaceutical company my father is working for is hiring, and they are looking for people.”

Martin was quiet for a bit, then he asked: “What sort?” I knew that I now got him on the hook. “Well, there’s some jobs in their growing storage facility, and they also are looking for couriers, who can bring samples, equipments and tests around town.” I knew he liked driving around on his moped, so this was my best bet. “And how are the work conditions? Am I expected to treat every assignment as life-or-death, that requires me to bring stuff from one end of town to the other in 10 minutes or less?” I was actually a bit surprised by his response, it sounded like he had been having some rough jobs in the past. “No, not really,” I said, trying to not scare him away. “The pay is very decent, and the work conditions are fine, haven’t really heard any complaints.” “Alright, I’ve just been working as errand boy for so many companies, who tried to screw me over,” Martin muttered.

“Please, come to the company on Thursday,” I said, almost pleadingly “and talk to my father, I’m sure, he can offer you something good.” I handed Martin one of my father’s business cards, beginning to fear I had messed this up. “11 o’clock, Thursday,” I said, before turning to leave, feeling very awkward. I really needed to get away from Martin for now, I also couldn’t stand the smell of smoke. I needed to make sure he quit that.

Martin showed up the following Thursday… surprisingly in a suit and tie, which I did not expect. It didn’t seem like something he was used to wearing, but he looked pretty sharp nonetheless.

He entered the room and shook my father’s hand. My father looked at me, and asked” Are you absolutely sure about this?” Martin looked a bit confused, as I answered: “Absolutely,” and nodded.

”Very well,” my father replied and then turned his full attention to Martin, “so Martin… Before we begin, may I offer you something to drink? Tea? Coffee?”

”Coffee,” Martin said, “just regular.” My father poured coffee into a mug – a mug, that had been specially prepared for Martin, now I just needed to be sure, he drank it. Once Martin had taken the mug, my father began the ’interview’ like it was just a regular interview. He asked Martin about his previous experience, and we found out that Martin had done surprisingly many jobs, just not for very long as his employers usually had tried to screw him over, and he’d decided to quit rather than accept their terrible working conditions, although he needed the money. He had done manual labour and worked as a courier using his moped.

The conversation went on, while I waited for the effect to kick in, and after ten minutes that felt like hours Martin began to ’doze off’ having drunk roughly half of the mug’s content.

When Martin became entirely unresponsive, it was time to act.

While my father locked the door, I began to undress Martin, or what was left of him. ”So you are really going through with this?” my father asked almost disappointined, as he began to help me undress the collapsed Martin.” Yes, and thank you for making it happening” I replied unable to conceal my excitement. ”But couldn’t you have found someone better? He’s a bit of a punk, isn’t he?” my father continued as he folded Martin’s white shirt neatly and placed it on his desk with the rest of Martin’s clothes. ”He’s perfect,” I replied,” and besides… I can make some changes if necessary.”

Martin’s skin was all that remained of him, like a deflated, human-shaped balloon, his eye sockets empty and his mouth gaping and stretched far beyond its normal capability. It was ready.

I discarded my own clothes hastily, and my father helped me slither into the bodysuit.

It was surprisingly easy to get inside, and made me feel even smaller and skinnier, than I normally did. Not that it would matter for much longer, soon I wouldn’t have to think about that ever again.

Martin certainly was no athlete, but he was fit and strong, maybe due to the manual labour and fistfights he had a habit of getting into.

I could wiggle my toes, and they responded flawlessly. Soon his legs, abdomen, torso and arms were also under my complete control. The skin might need a little moisturiser, but other than that, I was elated with my new skin. I had even gained some extra height, and the body felt naturally, if still a little loose. I looked one last time at my father with my old face, and smiled at him, he just stared at me in disbelief, but it seemed like he had accepted the change. I grabbed Martin’s windswept hair, that still dangled on my back as his hollow head hung around my shoulders. I pulled it and his face up and over my head like a hood. With a final snap, everything fell into place. I massaged the face, just to make sure it was aligned properly. I then felt a tightening across my entire body. I don’t if I was growing inside the skin, or the skin was shrinking to fit me, or something in between or entirely fourth.

But at the end of it, it was a perfect fit. I stretched my new body, flexed my new muscles, and ran my hands over my new skin. I looked at my father again with a devilish grin: “Now this feels so amazing!” “I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” he replied and began to hand Martin’s clothes to me, “and I expect you’ll put it to good use.” “Definitely,” I said with Martin’s voice, as I slipped his pants on, slightly disappointed he didn’t come in the leather jacket and jeans that he wore last I saw him, but that was only a question of time. Having tidied myself up, I looked just like Martin as he had entered the room barely an hour ago.

“See you at dinner,” I chuckled. “Very well,” my father said still with clear disbelief in his voice, “but do something about that hair,” he continued, as I reached for the door handle. “Yeah, sure,” I replied and headed out the door.

I headed straight back to Martin’s cheap apartment, it was a poor sight for sure, and I certainly was not going to stay here. I rummaged through Martin’s stuff and managed to find the exact outfit he had been wearing, when last I saw him. I ditched the suit and tie, then pulled on the black t-shirt, the scent of his sweat still clinging to it. A smell I now recognised as my own, I pulled it on very satisfied. Next were his jeans, I loved the way they fit, and the fact that they were several sizes bigger than my old pants only made it more satisfying. I grabbed my crotch hard, barely able to contain myself. Finally I plunged my new, bigger arms into the sleeves of MY leather jacket, claiming it as my own and establishing my new ‘’bad-boy’ persona. I took a look at my reflection and laughed, I couldn’t help it. I was so pumped, that I barely knew what to do with myself, this body needed to be put to the test. I slipped into Martin's/my leather boots with a newfound confidence, with his clothes and body under my control.

Let’s see what I can do with this before dinner.

Epilogue: As for my hair, my father and I found a compromise. I’m still going to keep the bad-boy persona, and even with my preference for leather and tight jeans, I can still pull off the look of the handsome young man who’s got a great future ahead of him… if/when I want to.