Just Not the Same

 
“Oh –“ I said, stepping into the kitchen and being caught a little bit off-guard by the sexy guy standing there, “Whoa, babe. OK, that was a hot look for last night, but it’s a little extreme for this morning, don’t you think? Why don’t you change back to yourself? Don’t imagine they’ll think to much of you going into work looking like that.”

“Um…” said Kevin, “Baby… There’s kind of – a problem. I can’t… um… change back. The machine isn’t working.”

“The machine isn’t working?” I said, “What the hell do you mean the machine isn’t working? It worked just fine last night when I changed back!”

“Yeah,” said Kevin, “I don’t know. I tried stepping inside this morning, and pulled up the image of my own body, and just – nothing.”

“Oh my god –” I said, “So what? You’re stuck like this? You’re stuck as some 20-something-year-old supermodel muscleboy? Kevin this isn’t funny! What are we going to do! How are we going to explain this?”

“I don’t know,” said Kevin, tears forming in his eyes, “I don’t want to be stuck like this, Jon. I want to go back to normal and just live our lives in our own bodies, the way it was before that stupid machine ever came into our lives! I don’t care if that means I have to be 47 years old again and fat and balding! I know that you love me that way. And this – this is just not me!”

He looked down at his perfectly-toned body, not an ounce of fat, and covered in smooth, deeply-tanned skin.

“Oh, baby,” I said, giving him a hug.

He was right. Hot as he was, it just somehow wasn’t the same. And what would people think of me, a 52 year old guy, hanging around with some stud like this? And if he stayed looking this way, would he even want to be with me any more…?

“I love you no matter what you look like,” I finally said, if only to comfort him, “And we’re gonna get that machine fixed, ok? Uh – why don’t I call into work for you today, and you can just take the day to… well, just rest, maybe. And try not to think about things too much. And when I get home from work, we’re gonna get this fixed. I promise.”

“Thanks, baby,” he said, hugging me back, “I love you.”

I felt my soft belly press up against his tight abs and knew that yes, we had to get this fixed somehow. We couldn’t be together this way. It just wouldn’t work.

“OK,” I said, forcing a smile, “Why don’t you go try the machine again a few more times, I’ll call into work for you, and then we’ll take it from there, all right? I promise you – this is all going to work out, and we’ll be back to normal again. At least, I really hope we will be…”