Class - Finale

15

 

 

Barton was the seediest district in town. It was full of drug addicts, unemployed losers and council houses. We made it a rule to stay away from there normally.

Now though, we fitted right in.

I drove round until I found the end of the road I was looking for.

Their house was number seventy eight. I tried to get Tina to help me spot it while I drove but she kept asking me to remind her of the number so I got pissed off and just slowed down to look myself.

She had been highly academic before this started. Now though, it was like she was a bimbo. No brain at all. She was finding it hard to remember things and hard to think clearly enough to make any kind of decent suggestions.

“Oh my God!” she screeched suddenly, “Look!” She held out her left hand, palm down, in front of me.

“I’m trying to drive,” I snarled. “Pipe down.”

“My wedding ring! Look at it! It’s changed!”

I slowed the car down and glanced across. It was true. It wasn’t even a diamond anymore. It was a dull green stone with what looked like a sliver band.

“Tony baby,” she said, “We have to change us back real soon or it’s gonna be too late.”

I pulled in to the side of the road. “Shut up,” I said, “We’re here.”

We got out. The van’s engine carried on rattling for a few moments then shuddered to a stop. The buildings were narrow terraced council houses. The tiny gardens were littered with rubbish, half bald grass and mud. There was an engine block on the path to seventy eight and an old car with no wheels that had totally gone to seed on what was left of the lawn.

A fat woman was sitting on the step to the house next door smoking a cigarette, a baby in nappies balanced on her knee. “Mornin’ Tony,” she said, “Hiya Teen.”

I stared at her for a moment, then said, “Hi.”

Tina said “Hiya” behind me.

It was profoundly disturbing somehow being recognise looking like this. It made it clearer than ever that unless we did something to change, we were going to stay like this and no one would ever see us as our old selves again. To everyone else in the world – even to each other – we would be Tony and Tina Miller.

I got the keys out of my overall pocket and worked my way round the ring to the one I had tried in the door to our apartment.

It fit in the slot. And it turned.

Again I got a sick feeling in my stomach that magic was at work here that was distorting every aspect of our lives. We were assimilating every habit and belonging of those vulgar people as though they were our own.

The door opened. Tina and I walked fearfully inside. The hall was dingy and bare. Damp-stains climbed the walls on both sides. The carpet was threadbare. A section of it was folded up carelessly to reveal damp boards underneath.

There was no sound coming from anywhere.

“Is this their house?” asked Tina.

I didn’t bother to even respond to that.

“Hello!”

No answer.

We continued to walk through.

The lounge was the first door on the right. There was an old TV with sellotape holding the on button in. It was unplugged from the wall. A dead plant was on top of it. There were numerous dirty pots on the wide coffee table on top of old copies of football magazines and cheap women’s magazines. Cigarette butts spilled out of several ashtrays on the table, on the arms of the sofa and on the floor. There was a half full pack of fags.

The kitchen was empty too. More full ashtrays. Sink full of dirty pots. No sign of anybody.

“What are we going to do now?” said Tina.

I shrugged. “Fucked if I know.” We wandered back through to the lounge and plonked ourselves down on the scrappy sofa. “I guess we’ll have to wait for them.”

I wasn’t sure what that meant - where the original couple had gone, or when they might return. It seemed terrifying to be in that place by ourselves. It felt like a trap, poised, ready to snap closed. To any outsider, we were Tony and Tina Miller, sitting in our home, in our lounge, enjoying a relaxing morning. To an outsider, we were here in our natural habitat.

The thought of remaining here permanently made me shudder - of giving up all our wealth and dwelling amid this squallor, not caring as the Miller’s obviously didn’t, to be surrounded by such filth and clutter. 

I had always hated soccer, thinking from a very early age that it was a vulgar sport for working class idiots but one of the magazines on the coffee table caught my eye. I picked it up and started thumbing through it. Tina picked up a copy of Woman’s Own.

 “Why don’t you go and see if they’ve got any beers in the fridge,” I said, “I’m thirsty.”

“Awwww, do I have to?” whined Tina.

“Unless you wanna feel the back of my hand, yes,” I snapped.

I lit another cigarette from a pack on the coffee table as she got up, then carried on reading my magazine. It was really interesting and I started to wonder if there was a match on TV as Tina came back in with my beer. “Stick the box on willya,” I said, “We might as well watch something while we’re waiting.”

“Okay sweetie,” she said brainlessly. I shook my head and smiled. Fuckin’ stupid cow. Then I had a good look as she got down on her knees next to the plug socket. She had her bum in the air and her sexy smooth legs looked gorgeous in those heels. I pictured her on the bed back home, naked, as I took her from behind and the monster started to stir again.

The TV came to life and my eyes flicked back to it. Before the picture even faded into view I could hear the soccer crowds roaring. “This is more like it,” I said, leaning back, cracking open my beer and grinning. I took a long swig then had another puff of my cigarette. This was the life.

Tina got back to her feet and tottered round to my side of the set.

“Aw, football?” she whined nasally, “I hate football. Do we have to watch this?”

“Sit down and shut up. Read your magazine and leave me in peace.”

 

 

16

 

 

The game ended after an hour. I really got into it, getting up and roaring when Man U scored the winning goal. It was fucking great. I felt fantastic. I should have got into footie years ago. Course instead I was wasting my time prancing around like some nancy-boy watching plays and sipping wine. What a fucking twat.

“Honey?”

“Wot?”

Tina sat forward, exposing her cleavage. “What if they never come back? What if they’re at our flat right now living our lives?”

I fingered my moustache. That was right. What if they were?

“How could we make them change back?” she said, “We couldn’t. We wouldn’t even be able to get back into the building without security calling the police. Look at me. I look just like her now. I talk like her. I’m even getting stoopid, you know, like her.”

I folded my arms then unfolded them.

“But James?”

“Wot?”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah. Wot?”

She cringed. “I feel bad even thinkin’ it, let alone sayin’ it out loud.”

I tried to focus on what she was saying rather than on her tits and her sexy knees.

“I think I… I think I like this… being like this; more than…”

“Wot are you saying?” I asked, stepping closer. No longer able to resist touching her legs, I kneeled down in front of her and stroked her knees.

She looked down guiltily. “I like my body better now,” she said, “I like having these big tits and seein’ the way you look at me all the time - like you wanna fuck me and not give a damn who sees or where we are. And I like not giving a shit what people think of me - if I talk bad or not. Just saying what I please.” She put her hand on the top of my bald head. “And I think you’re a lot sexier like this. I even like it when you’re nasty to me. It makes me feel all feminine and looked after in a weird kind of way, like you’re really a man now, not a wuss like you were before. After seeing you like this - feeling like this - how could I ever find you sexy lookin’ like you used to? Bein’ so stuck-up and airy fairy like you used to? ”

My cock was bursting to get free. I tried hard to resist not burying my head in her tits.

“You must hate me for saying that,” she said.

I shook my head. I couldn’t hate her for voicing exactly what I was thinking too.

“I’m not sayin’ it has to be totally permanent. I’m not sayin’ we should give up all our money and stuff. But… What if we stayed here… just for a bit,” she said, “and lived these lives. Not forever. Just for a bit.”

I nodded, whispering, “Just for a day or two. Yeah. We might never get another chance like this. Just stay here and pretend we really are Tony and Tina. Yeah.”

Tina nodded, hopeful.

I stared at her then I looked round the room at the state of the place, the smoke-stained paintwork, the mottled net curtains.

I knew it was wrong. I knew it was a terrible mistake to think these things, to want to live like this - I knew our minds were being affected by the magic or whatever it was - but I knew that I didn’t give a fuck neither.

I wanted to be Tony Miller and I sure as fuck wanted to be married to this little chubby slut Tina. Why the hell would I want a jumped up little skinny thing when I could have this big woman in front of me. And why the fuck would I want to be a fucking  little stuck-up runt when I could be a real man?

Just stay here.

Just live this life.

That’s all we had to do.

Go to work as a car mechanic at Tony’s job in the morning.

Go out drinking every night in the local at the end of the road.

Be Tony and Tina Miller… for the rest of our lives.

I knew I wasn’t thinking straight. I knew it was a mistake. At some deep, psychic level, it felt like if I said yes now then the exchange would somehow become permanent, that we would be trapped in these lives forever.

But I didn’t care.

I did want to be Tony Miller.

I was Tony Miller.

Bald. Fat. Hairy.

A car mechanic rather than an investment banker.

A forty a day smoker, into football and sex and beer.

And my wife was Tina Miller.

A chubby tart who threw her sexuality out at the world in every direction.

A stupid dozy cow who had dropped out of school with no qualifications and no nothing.

I didn’t care.

I didn’t care about nothing.

Not about losing everything I had before or gaining the things that I had now.

I didn’t care.

All I cared about was shoving my cock between those massive tits and cumming all over my wife’s face.

All I wanted was a tit fuck with my chubby slapper of a wife, some more beers and maybe another shag later after we’d watched TV for a bit.

I leant closer to do it.

Tina’s eyes quivered with delight and expectation.

I slipped the straps of her dress off her creamy shoulders.

I lowered my lips until they hung less than an inch above her tender boobs, my moustache tickling the skin.

This is me now, I thought, this is who I am.

Then I threw my head back and pushed away from her. “No!”

Tina cried out.

I got up and charged across the room, turning away from her, my hands up on my face. “No!”

“What is it Tony? What’s wrong?”

I glared back at her. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong!?”

She stared back at me, uncomprehending.

“Look at us,” I said, gesturing down at my massive stocky body and oily overalls. “Look at who we’ve become! This ain’t right! We don’t belong ‘ere! Whatever did this to us… It’s poisonin’ our minds - making us feel like we really are these people - making us wanna be! We have to stop! Just fuckin’ stop!”

“But Tony,” she whined, “I do wanna be me like this. I wanna be sexy and loose. I don’t wanna be stuck-up and frigid.”

“No!” I bellowed, “No! That ain’t you talkin’! Just think for a minute. We ‘ad perfect lives before. Fuckin’ perfect! We was rich and good lookin’. We had a fuckin’ bootiful apartment. Amazin’ jobs…” I gestured round the room. “We don’t want this - this squalor. We don’t want to be these fat fuckin’ losers!”

“But Tony!” Tina started sobbing. “I’ve been fantasisin’ about bein’ with a bloke like you are now for ages. An’ I’ve wanted to put on weight and risk bein’ fat to be more voluptuous an’ sexy. I just didn’t ‘ave the balls before.” Her tears intensified. “I just want you to fuck me so bad right now Tony. And I know you want me just like I want you. I saw you havin’ a wank in the car last night when I came outta the shop. You was thinkin’ about her from the cliff top, weren’t you?”

I didn’t want to answer but I mumbled, “Yes.”

“Weren’t you?”

“Yes!”

“Do you still love me?”

I lowered my head.

“Tony? Do you?”

I looked back up at her. She looked more gorgeous than any woman I’d ever laid eyes on. From her creamy shoulders and vamp face, down past her huge knockers, to her beautiful smooth shapely legs. “Christ,” I whispered, “Course I do. But that’s the fuckin’ problem Tina. The way you look now - the way you talk even. That’s what’s scarin’ me. I love you more than I ever fuckin’ have. I wanna shag you all the time. That’s fuckin’ obvious. But more’n that: I’ve got all these new feelin’s in my ‘ead about ya. Like I wanna protect you and like I wanna go out to work so you don’t haveta. An’ I feel these urges when I think of stuff - like these jets of rage. Like I think of some bastard lookin’ at ya when we’re out together - some wanker slidin’ his eyes up an’ down your body and it makes me want to… Shit Tina, it makes me want to fuckin’ smash that cunt’s face in. Just thinkin’ about it gets all my blood goin’; get’s my muscles pumpin’. I’d wanna get that fucker and kick ‘im in the balls.”

I looked at her with tears in my eyes. “An’ I’ve never felt like that about anyone, not never before.”

Tina hugged her arms across her chest.

“Let’s stay like this Tony,” she said, “Let’s just stay here and be Tina. Be Tony.”

I shook my head. “I can’t just walk away from—“

“Then call!” she snapped, “Call our apartment! See if they’re there! They must be! But do it without my blessin’.”

I sighed. “Don’t you see I have to?”

“I don’t see nothin’.”

“The longer we stay here in this scummy little house, the more we’re gonna lose ourselves in these lives. What if we forget who we’re supposed to be? What then?”

“Then we’ll be happy fuckin’ each other’s brains out for the rest of our lives!”

“I don’t want to be a car mechanic!”

“Well look in the fuckin’ mirror you fat bastard!” she screeched, “Cause you are one!”

 

 

17

 

 

I turned my back on her and found the phone.

I dialled our number angrily, misdialling once and having to cancel.

It started to ring at the other end and in the phased out limbo of waiting my mind immediately wandered back to the harsh words to my wife and I felt a shuddering wave of guilt.

I was angry with her because I was angry with myself. I knew that but I was too big a cunt to tell her that. I was angry with myself because I wanted exactly what she did. If anything I wanted it more if that was possible. There was a battle going on inside of me because I wanted this so bad but I was terrified that if I gave in to my urges I might regret it for the rest of my sordid tawdry days.

But it was getting harder to visualise exactly what I would be losing, to remember what was so great about it. All I remembered was being some jumped up little wimp barely out of puberty, thinking I was better than everyone else. I was a man now. A real man. I felt so strong and masculine. I felt like it was me looking after my wife, not my money. And I felt like I didn’t really need the money as long as I had her.

The phone was still ringing. No one picked up.

I dumped it back down into its cradle and sighed.

What the fuck was I going to do?

We didn’t know the first thing about how this had happened. We didn’t even know where our counterparts were. How could we ever change back?

 

 

18

 

 

I paused in the lounge doorway.

Tina was leaning back on the sofa, thumbing through a copy of a celebrity gossip magazine, her legs crossed.

“They aren’t there,” I said.

She looked up at me, worried.

I scratched the top of my bald head then smoothed my moustache thoughtfully. “We can’t go back there. We might end up gettin’ arrested by the pigs. And we don’t ‘ave the money to stay at a hotel that’s any better than this place. Until we get through to them or find them… we’re going to have to stay here.”

Tina’s eyes lit up but she restrained herself from speaking.

“We’re gonna have to just wait,” I said. “And it could be hours. Could be even days. If ever. I don’t know what even fuckin’ made this ‘appen.”

Tina pulled the strap off one of her shoulders. “Then let’s just pretend this is really our house… Tony. Just for a while. Let’s pretend we really are these people. Please.”

My eyes went down to her gorgeous legs. I was tired of this. I was tired of fighting something that my whole being wanted more than anything.

So I let myself grin and popped open the press studs at the front of my overalls. Then I started walking toward my sexy wife.

 

 

19

 

 

The water in the shower was so hard it stung my shoulders, but it felt good all the same.

I poured some shampoo into my palm and spread it over my head, only second thinking that I was bald now. It felt odd to be running the lather over bare skin but good as well. It was hard to vocalise but so much about our present situation seemed right. I smoothed it into what little hair I had, then rinsed it out and cut the stream of water.

There was a heated towel rail next to the shower cubicle. I pulled the large one off and wrapped it round my waist. The other towel on the rail dropped off onto the wet floor. I went to pick it up like I would normally have done but stopped mid-motion. I didn’t see why I should be doing fucking women’s work when Tina wasn’t even fucking working. That was her job. I brought the money in. She was the slave. I left it where it was and walked over to the sink.

Long-dripping taps had left brown stains on the porcelain. The mirror was steamed up. I reached over with my fist to wipe it clear and paused. There was a tattoo of a dragon on my hairy forearm that hadn’t been there before. It was an old one, the ink long-since faded to green. I turned my outstretched arm, flexing my tendons so I could see it clearly.

I liked it.

I remembered the night when I was eighteen me and the lads went and got it done after work. It was a right laugh watching that pansy twat Keith getting woosy when he saw all the blood. I remembered me mam balling me out when I got home after cause of it and the wink me dad gave me. As if to say, “That’s right son. You’re a man now.”

I wiped my eye then continued to clear the mirror. Then I thought to myself: Wait a minute. That never happened. I never got a tattoo. And my father would never have approved in a million years.

But I remembered it. I remembered it clearly. I remembered the names of every kid I was with that night. I remembered when I got my other tattoo done six months later, the girl in the bikini on my other forearm. I remembered the bird I was with at the time. It didn’t look like her but it was close enough to buy me a shag. She thought it was romantic. I just wanted a picture of a sexy bint on my arm. I never even seen her again after that night.

I remembered what I was wearing, where I was working at the time. Where I was working now - the garage at the end of the road. I remembered my boss, my co-workers Tommy and Geoff, Sally, the receptionist who was a sexy little tramp, just like her daughter Loraine. I remembered—

Fuck.

I remembered everything.

The mirror started to clear of steam by itself. My naked upper body came into view. Huge sagging belly. Stocky but muscular arms. Thick covering of curly black hair  across my chest, down my stomach, on my arms and across my shoulders. Bristly double chin. Bald head. Thick moustache. I tapped a fag out of the pack I’d brought up with me, stuck it in the side of my mouth then lit it, cupping my hand round the flame from habit as much as anything. Then I blew out toward the glass, the smoke hitting the mirror and spreading out in an inverted fan.

I shouldn’t be able to remember anything from my—from Tony Miller’s past. I weren’t there. I sure as shit shouldn’t be cupping my hands round a lighter flame out of habit. I’d not smoked a fag even once before this started.

I stared into this stranger’s eyes that looked back at me from the mirror beneath his bushy eyebrows.

Where was the fear? Where was the panic that this was happening? Why did it all seem so natural to slip into this man’s life as though it had always been mine?

Why wasn’t I scared shitless? 

But I wasn’t. There were several beers in me. I felt dozy. Drunk. As though this were all happening to some other person. But it wasn’t. It was happening to me.

And it struck me suddenly, as I stared into that unfamiliar face, as these memories of another life seeped into my mind, that maybe my own memories might be affected.

I pictured my mother, the image I had of her as a child and immediately felt relieved that I still could. I shuddered to imagine what it could have meant if my own memories were being overwritten by these crass ones. But they weren’t. There she was in my memory image, lounging on the sofa in my childhood home, a cardigan over her nightie, a fag in one hand, a half empty bottle of bourbon in the other, smiling her crooked smile at me that was beautiful despite the blackened tooth at the front of her mouth.

Then another memory came, linked to this one, to Christmas day that year; my father’s voice shouting at my mother, saying he knew about the men she’d been with, calling her a slag and a whore. I remembered crying and running to my room, thinking then what I’d do if my wife ever had an affair. What I’d do to her and to the fucker who—

No.

I shook my head.

This wasn’t right. None of it was. I put my hand to my temple, pressing hard enough to drive stars into my field of vision.

What was happening to me? When was it going to end?

I shook my head, trying to clear my mind, but I was starting to realise that there was no clearing it.

I’d thought the change was complete when my face and voice changed, when the overalls became oily; but I was starting to realise that the changes were still happening - still going on right now. And I didn’t know where they were going to stop. If I’d even know myself when they did…

 

 

20

 

 

Tina had the TV on when I entered the lounge. A soap opera was on by the looks of it.

She glanced up and shushed me then did a double take. “You’ve shaved.”

I nodded. “The bristles were pissing me off,” I said.

“But you didn’t shave off the moustache.”

My fingers went up to it. “No,” I said, “I…”

I didn’t know why I hadn’t. Hadn’t I always hated the things, always associated them with classless thugs who watched football and drank beer till they were sick?

I ran my hand down the smooth side of my fat face to where the bulge of fat hung under my chin. “I kinda like it,” I said.

Fuck me, what was happening to us?

 

 

21

 

We watched TV for a couple of hours. It started to get dark. I kept meaning to call the number of our apartment, see if our doubles had taken our places there by the same magic that had transformed us, but I couldn’t work up the enthusiasm. There were a couple of sitcoms that were pissing funny and I got carried away with a gameshow. Gameshows had never appealed to me before but the more I thought about it, the more I realised that I talked a lot of shit before. I didn’t know what life was all about. What could be a better way to spend an evening than a few beers in front of a gameshow or two; maybe an episode of Eastenders?

But then again, what was I thinking? I’d always loved gameshows. Most nights if I wasn’t out on the piss it was possible to watch a string of sitcoms and gameshows right through until the news. Then I’d turn off and shag Tina before going to sleep.

That was what I did most nights.

After my bath I hadn’t wanted to get dressed in my overalls again. I stuck on a pair of old jeans from my wardrobe and my favourite football shirt. I’d owned it for years and it always felt good to pull the old thing on.

Tina went upstairs for the time it took me to smoke four fags.

When she came down she was wearing black heels, a black leather mini-skirt and a top with thin straps made of reflective plastic. She posed in the doorway, a fag hanging from her lip, a bottle in her hand, her face made up a bit over the top but how I liked it. She raised one eyebrow, blew me a kiss and winked. “How do I look?”

“You remind me of my mother.” 

She grinned. “Well would you take your mother out for a drink dressed like this?”

I got to my feet. “She always dressed like that.”

“Kiss me Tony,” she said.

I took her in my arms and pressed my chest up against her tits. Then I shoved my tongue between her lips and closed my eyes, shoving my right hand up her skirt and grabbing her inner thigh.

Then the phone started to ring.

“Jesus Christ. Who could be fucking calling now?”

I shrugged and went to pick it up. “H’lo?”

The voice on the other end of the line said, “Tony Miller?” It sounded like some posh bastard or other.

“Yeah.”

“Is that Tony Miller?”

“Yeah, this is Tony Miller. What do ya want?”

“My name’s James,” said the voice, “James Fountain.”

My mind blanked. I’d heard that name somewhere but I was fucked if I could remember where. “Never heard of you.”

The man on the phone paused. “You’ve never heard of James Fountain?” He sounded like a right stuck-up twat.

“No I fuckin’ haven’t,” I snapped, “Why the fuck would I have?” 

“Who is it?” asked Tina.

I covered the mouthpiece with my hand. “Some fucker thinks he knows me. Never heard of the bastard.”

“Well let’s go then,” said Tina, pulling her skirt up to show more of her leg. “I want you to get me drunk then fuck me in the loos at the pub like you did last week.”

I took my hand away from the mouthpiece. I didn’t need  no more encouragement than that. “Look mister,” I said, “I ain’t never heard of James whatisname and I’m busy, all right?”

“Is that Tina Miller I hear in the background,” said the voice.

“Yes it is,” I said, “You got a problem with that. She’s my wife. If you know what’s good for you you’ll fuckin’ stay away!”

“What do you do for a living Tony?” asked the voice.

“I work in the garage at the end of Duggin Street. I’m a mechanic. What the fuck are you?”

The voice said, “I’m an investment banker.”

Sounded more like an investment wanker to me.

“Look, piss off willya,” I said. “I’m on me way out and the last person I wanna be talkin’ to is some toffee-nosed cunt from the posh end of town allright?”

“Fine,” said the man, “Be my guest. I hope you have a good evening.”

I looked at Tina’s bountiful cleavage. “I fuckin’ plan to.”

I jammed the phone back down into place, cutting the signal.

 “Come ‘ere ya tart,” I said, grabbing her bare arm and pulling her close. I knew she was a pricktease and a flirt. I knew she probably gave it away when I was out. But I wasn’t perfect meself. I’d had me own share of sowing me oats with Sally the receptionist at work and a bunch of others. But Tina always came back to me and she knew I’d kick the balls in of any fucker I found her with.

But she was fucking gorgeous. A real slag in bed and I liked that. She didn’t have no education or nothing and she was about as thick as three short planks, but I wasn’t exactly blessed in the brain department meself.

It didn’t matter none. We was well suited and I’d never seen another woman could look so fucking sexy as she could.

I took her in my arms and started leading her out the door. We paused in the hallway and kissed again, tongues interlinked, my hand squeezing her tit, her hand groping my cock.

“I love you Tina,” I said.

“I love you too Tony,” she replied.  

 

 

 

THE END

 

 

(and they all lived happily ever fucking after)