drpepperdragoon:

Regret.

That would be the best way to describe my situation. My name is Dr. Morton Olsen, well, actually, my real name is Drew Bishop, and I’ll admit that I used to be such a pompous little prat, but that was weeks ago. Now I’m the professor of sciences at the grad school here, just like I asked for.
You see for the last 10 years I’ve always been known as the child prodigy of sciences, I’ve even had multiple late night interviews to prove my genius, which I must admit, I look great in. Even though my brain is my best organ, I still maintain a strict workout regimen. But lately, after graduating with my bachelors at 18, I’ve been finding my grad school to be lacking. After spending a couple weeks in Dr. Sollen’s class, I knew even I could do a better job than him.

Dr. Sollen kept me after class a few weeks ago and gave me a hard time about an “attitude problem”. He called me a pompous little prat, and asked if I thought I could do a better job in his position. Well, he asked for it, so I told him I thought I could do exactly that. He calmed down a bit after that, and then said in a sort of cool, calculated voice, “Fine then, I’ll put you exactly in your place.”
Next thing I know, I’m being grabbed from behind by who I believe are some other students, and some sort of tube is being forced down my throat with a strange, light blue liquid being poured through it. And I blacked out.

I woke up on the classroom floor feeling incredibly weak and light headed. After an extreme struggle I managed to get on my feet and immediately knew something was wrong. It only took a few seconds of exploring to realize that somehow I was inside the fat old professor’s body. I was Dr. Sollen! This certainly isn’t what I meant when I said I would be better in his position!

That all happened weeks ago, and I’m still trapped in this bald old professor’s body. One of the only fortunate things about this is that I at least picked up some residual memories from his brain, and I know what he drives, where he lives, and what he was going to be teaching in the upcoming weeks. A note on the desk informed me to take a picture of myself, well himself, every day and email it to him so that he knows I’m keeping up appearances. He also said that if I didn’t pretend to be him convincingly enough, he would never switch us back.

These last few weeks have been a nightmare, I’ve had to walk around the school with this massive fat belly swaying back and forth like it’s some sort of normal feeling, and get dressed in these massive grandpa outfits like it’s normal everyday attire for this century. At first I skipped on the suspenders, but as it turns out there’s a reason these old fat guys where them. Despite the fact that it makes an outline for my big fat belly…. I mean…..HIS big fat belly. I don’t want to start thinking like I’m actually him.  Also, when I have to take a shower, I always forget about the bald head, and still pile some shampoo on it. Which is a really strange feeling by the way. Sure, I understand that genetics influences male pattern baldness, but that knowledge doesn’t really prepare me for the feeling of the smooth top of my head, coming down to the grey fringe of hair around my ears. At least the shampoo isn’t wasted though, because I just bring it down into my grey beard and mustache. Speaking of weird feelings, that’s definitely one of the strangest. Shampooing and combing my grey beard actually has a nice, sort of cathartic, feeling.

Anyway, it’s been three weeks since I’ve become this fat, old, bald, professor, and I hate to say that I occasionally even forget that this isn’t the real me. I do have to admit that when I come home to my wife’s delic…..I mean HIS wife’s delicious, and large meals, it does feel pretty great. And while it was my absolute least favorite part at first, I have gotten pretty used to smoking his pipe occasionally. I think I may have actually become addicted myself, because I forget that I’m even smoking it sometimes.

Ok, so even though I enjoy my….HIS wife’s good cooking, and smoking my pipes occasionally, and even teaching the class out of my expertise. I have to say that even though they aren’t actually mine, I do really enjoy my grandkids who visit. They’re so inquisitive and curious. You’d think I would be offended when they ask if I’m pregnant with lots of babies, or when they ask why I’m bald or why I smoke my pipe, but when they scream for “Grandpa!” and give my big belly a hug as far as they can reach across it, I just sort of forget all my problems.

Dang it, I’ve done it again! I’ve almost become content that I’m currently trapped in my fat, old, bald, professor’s body! None of that home stuff matters, because I have a class coming in about 20 minutes and I have to send a picture of myself to Drew if I ever want to be rid of this obese grandpa’s body (though it worries me a bit that Drew…..I mean, the professor in my body, hasn’t been to class in about a week.) But I have to take this picture and I still want to get a chance to step outside with my pipe before class.

While outside on the bench with my short, full bent drooping pipe, I thought, “Golly! All this reminiscing has made me hungry.” As I sat, patting my large round belly, I thought, “I wonder what my wife is making for dinner tonight. I certainly hope it’s her famous beef stroganoff.” And then I remembered that my grandkids were joining us tonight, which brought a smile and a bit of a belly laugh from me as I remembered last weeks fiasco. I chuckled a bit to myself as I tapped out my pipe, grunted a bit getting off the bench, and then made my way to class.

Regret.

That would be the best way to describe my situation. My name is Dr. Morton Olsen, well, actually, my real name is Drew Bishop, and I’ll admit that I used to be such a pompous little prat, but that was weeks ago. Now I’m the professor of sciences at the grad school here, just like I asked for.
You see for the last 10 years I’ve always been known as the child prodigy of sciences, I’ve even had multiple late night interviews to prove my genius, which I must admit, I look great in. Even though my brain is my best organ, I still maintain a strict workout regimen. But lately, after graduating with my bachelors at 18, I’ve been finding my grad school to be lacking. After spending a couple weeks in Dr. Sollen’s class, I knew even I could do a better job than him.

Dr. Sollen kept me after class a few weeks ago and gave me a hard time about an “attitude problem”. He called me a pompous little prat, and asked if I thought I could do a better job in his position. Well, he asked for it, so I told him I thought I could do exactly that. He calmed down a bit after that, and then said in a sort of cool, calculated voice, “Fine then, I’ll put you exactly in your place.”
Next thing I know, I’m being grabbed from behind by who I believe are some other students, and some sort of tube is being forced down my throat with a strange, light blue liquid being poured through it. And I blacked out.

I woke up on the classroom floor feeling incredibly weak and light headed. After an extreme struggle I managed to get on my feet and immediately knew something was wrong. It only took a few seconds of exploring to realize that somehow I was inside the fat old professor’s body. I was Dr. Sollen! This certainly isn’t what I meant when I said I would be better in his position!

That all happened weeks ago, and I’m still trapped in this bald old professor’s body. One of the only fortunate things about this is that I at least picked up some residual memories from his brain, and I know what he drives, where he lives, and what he was going to be teaching in the upcoming weeks. A note on the desk informed me to take a picture of myself, well himself, every day and email it to him so that he knows I’m keeping up appearances. He also said that if I didn’t pretend to be him convincingly enough, he would never switch us back.

These last few weeks have been a nightmare, I’ve had to walk around the school with this massive fat belly swaying back and forth like it’s some sort of normal feeling, and get dressed in these massive grandpa outfits like it’s normal everyday attire for this century. At first I skipped on the suspenders, but as it turns out there’s a reason these old fat guys where them. Despite the fact that it makes an outline for my big fat belly…. I mean…..HIS big fat belly. I don’t want to start thinking like I’m actually him.  Also, when I have to take a shower, I always forget about the bald head, and still pile some shampoo on it. Which is a really strange feeling by the way. Sure, I understand that genetics influences male pattern baldness, but that knowledge doesn’t really prepare me for the feeling of the smooth top of my head, coming down to the grey fringe of hair around my ears. At least the shampoo isn’t wasted though, because I just bring it down into my grey beard and mustache. Speaking of weird feelings, that’s definitely one of the strangest. Shampooing and combing my grey beard actually has a nice, sort of cathartic, feeling.

Anyway, it’s been three weeks since I’ve become this fat, old, bald, professor, and I hate to say that I occasionally even forget that this isn’t the real me. I do have to admit that when I come home to my wife’s delic…..I mean HIS wife’s delicious, and large meals, it does feel pretty great. And while it was my absolute least favorite part at first, I have gotten pretty used to smoking his pipe occasionally. I think I may have actually become addicted myself, because I forget that I’m even smoking it sometimes.

Ok, so even though I enjoy my….HIS wife’s good cooking, and smoking my pipes occasionally, and even teaching the class out of my expertise. I have to say that even though they aren’t actually mine, I do really enjoy my grandkids who visit. They’re so inquisitive and curious. You’d think I would be offended when they ask if I’m pregnant with lots of babies, or when they ask why I’m bald or why I smoke my pipe, but when they scream for “Grandpa!” and give my big belly a hug as far as they can reach across it, I just sort of forget all my problems.

Dang it, I’ve done it again! I’ve almost become content that I’m currently trapped in my fat, old, bald, professor’s body! None of that home stuff matters, because I have a class coming in about 20 minutes and I have to send a picture of myself to Drew if I ever want to be rid of this obese grandpa’s body (though it worries me a bit that Drew…..I mean, the professor in my body, hasn’t been to class in about a week.) But I have to take this picture and I still want to get a chance to step outside with my pipe before class.

While outside on the bench with my short, full bent drooping pipe, I thought, “Golly! All this reminiscing has made me hungry.” As I sat, patting my large round belly, I thought, “I wonder what my wife is making for dinner tonight. I certainly hope it’s her famous beef stroganoff.” And then I remembered that my grandkids were joining us tonight, which brought a smile and a bit of a belly laugh from me as I remembered last weeks fiasco. I chuckled a bit to myself as I tapped out my pipe, grunted a bit getting off the bench, and then made my way to class.