Weird remote - Rusty - part 2-3 (Patreon)

Part 1: https://www.patreon.com/posts/weird-remote-111033422

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Earl's hulking figure loomed over her, eyes filled with a mixture of lust and confusion. Rusty knew he couldn't let the situation escalate. He had to do something—and fast.

A plan quickly formed in his mind, though it made his skin crawl to even consider it. Rusty forced a nervous giggle, trying to mimic what he thought a scared woman might sound like. “Alright, alright, Earl, you’re right. I should probably just get home,” he said, attempting to sound demure and placating. He batted his long, false lashes at Earl, forcing a smile that he hoped looked convincing.

Earl’s grip loosened slightly, and Rusty seized the opportunity. He slowly lifted his hands, delicate and unfamiliar, and placed them on Earl's chest. “Come on, big guy,” Rusty said softly, his voice a nervous quiver. “Let me go, okay? I… I won’t cause any trouble. Promise.” He hated every word that came out of his mouth, but he knew this was the only way.

Earl hesitated, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied Rusty. “Tammy, you always were a piece of work,” he muttered, releasing his grip on Rusty’s shoulders and moving his hands to rest on her hips. Rusty tried not to shudder at the feeling of Earl's hands on his new body, but he forced himself to stay calm.

Rusty took a deep breath, feeling the unfamiliar rise and fall of his new chest beneath the tight fabric of the floral dress. “Just… let me go, Earl,” he whispered, leaning in closer, his breath brushing against Earl’s cheek. “I promise I’ll be good.”

Earl seemed to consider this for a moment before finally stepping back, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Fine, get outta here,” he said, giving Rusty’s hip a rough pat. “But you better not let me catch you causing trouble again, you hear?”

Rusty nodded quickly, taking a step back. His heart pounded in his chest, and he could feel the weight of the pregnant belly pressing down on his hips, making it difficult to move. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “Thanks, Earl,” he muttered, forcing another smile.

As soon as Earl’s attention wavered, Rusty dashed past him, scurrying to the Chevy, his ears ringing with Earl's mocking laugh. Stumbling slightly as he moved, Rusty tried to adjust to the new center of gravity that came with being heavily pregnant. Every step felt awkward and unfamiliar, the baby bump weighing him down. His face flushed with embarrassment. "Run, baby, run," Earl yelled at him, shaking his finger and laughing. "Next time I won't be so kind!"

Finally, he reached the garage, where his old body was fumbling with the Chevy’s engine. The woman, now in his body, looked up as Rusty approached, her eyes wide with confusion.

“Hey, you!” Rusty called out, his voice shaking slightly. “Hand over the remote!”

The woman blinked, her greasy hands gripping the wrench tightly. "Get the hell out of my garage!" She shot back, her voice deep and masculine.

“Don’t play dumb,” Rusty hissed. His fingers clenched tightly into fists as the waves of adrenaline pumping through his body turned to fury. “I know you have it. Give it to me now, or so help me—”

Before he could finish his sentence, the woman’s eyes darted to a spot near the workbench. Rusty followed her gaze and saw the remote, half-hidden under a pile of rags. His heart leaped in his chest, and without thinking, he lunged for it, his hands stretching out desperately.

The woman in his old body tried to stop him, but Rusty was quicker. His fingers closed around the remote, and he yanked it free, his eyes wide with determination. “Yes!” he gasped, holding the device up triumphantly.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Rusty pointed the remote at his old body and pressed all buttons in panic. He didn’t know what would happed. He just wanted his body back.

There was a blinding flash of light, and for a moment, Rusty felt like he was floating. Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the sensation stopped, and he was plunged into darkness.

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Slowly, the world started to come back into focus. The smell of stale beer and cheap perfume filled the air, and the faint hum of country music played in the background. His body felt heavy, exhausted even, as he leaned against a wooden bar counter, a slight cramp in his side reminding him of something that felt far too real.

“What the hell?” Rusty whispered, his voice barely audible over the noise of the bar. He looked down, expecting to see the rounded belly of a pregnant woman, but it was gone. Instead, he noticed a snug, polyester waitress uniform, with a white half apron tied neatly at his waist. A name tag pinned to his uniform caught his eye: "Tammy"

“Tammy! Order up!” a gruff voice barked from the other side of the bar, pulling Rusty out of his confused thoughts.

Rusty’s head snapped up, and he saw a burly bartender glaring at him. His name tag read ‘Phil.’ For a moment, Rusty could only stare blankly, trying to process what was happening. “Tammy?” he repeated dumbly.

Phil rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Tammy! That’s you, remember? You’re supposed to be working, not spacing out. Table three needs their drinks. Chop-chop!”

Rusty’s eyes widened in disbelief as a rush of memories flooded his mind. Six months had passed since Rusty had pressed the remote, and in that time, his consciousness had been switched off, leaving him to live Tammy's life as she would have. But Rusty was unaware of this, and now, as he stood behind the bar in a polyester waitress uniform, everything began to rush back to him like a flood.

Phil’s gruff voice snapped him out of his stupor. “Table three, Tammy. You deaf or just slow today?”

Rusty blinked, trying to process what was happening. Six months? What the hell had happened in six months?

"Yeah, yeah, I got it," he muttered under his breath, shaking off Phil's impatient look and turning his back, not daring to ask more questions. He grabbed the tray with the drinks and made his way to table three, his hips swaying awkwardly as he walked in ill-fitting shoes.

As he approached the table, memories began to surface, disjointed and confusing. He had lived these past months as Tammy, a waitress in this dive bar on the outskirts of town.

The man at table three gave him a sleazy grin as he approached. "Hey, Tammy, join us!" he called, motioning to the empty chair at the table. "Got a minute to chat?"

Rusty forced a smile, setting the drinks down on the table, feeling how his tits rubbed his bra as he leaned over to set the glasses down. He took a moment to observe the three faces around the table.

There were two women and a man. Both were young and good-looking and gave him looks with a mix of curiosity and concern. 'Why the hell am I doing this?!' Rusty thought, his confusion mixing with a strange familiarity. He felt something weird, like déjà vu, as if he’d done this a million times before, and yet, it felt so wrong.

"Come on, sit down, Tammy," the man slurred. His hand found its way to Rusty's ass, giving it a rough pat that caused his eyes to widen in surprise.

Rusty jerked back, almost spilling the remaining drinks on his tray. "Watch it, buddy," he snapped before looked at him and froze, his heart pounding in his chest as he recognized him as Chad Mason, one of the many men he, Tammy, had turned to during those past months of desperation.

Chad’s face shifted from a grin to a puzzled frown. “Hey, Tammy, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing with concern. “Come on, sit with us, babe. We were just talking about that night in 'Country Road Inn', remember?”

Rusty's stomach churned as Chad's words hung in the air, ad he stiffened, the memories flooding back. He remembered now. Tammy's memories were merging with his. He could feel his cheeks flushing, not from embarrassment but from sheer disgust as the memories solidified. He looked at Chad's face.

Night at the Country Road Inn with Chad. The memories slammed into him, vivid and unmistakable. He felt Chad’s rough hands all over his body, felt the slimy trail of his kisses down her neck, the way he had pulled Tammy into his lap and called her 'Tammy, baby'. It all felt so disgustingly real, like he was living it again.

'Tammy, babe,' Chad had murmured, his lips brushing against her ear. Rusty felt it all—the hot breath, the beer-laced kiss. 'You know you drive me wild. You always know what a man needs.'

Rusty’s skin crawled as he remembered how Chad’s hand had slid up her thigh, under the short skirt Tammy had been wearing. He had giggled, a high-pitched, flirtatious sound that made Rusty’s stomach churn. Then, like it was happening all over again, he saw Tammy's hands fumble to unbutton Chad’s shirt, felt his lips press against his, the taste of beer and stale cigarettes filling his mouth as he kissed him.

Chad had pushed his back against the bar, and Rusty could feel it all—the scrape of the wood against her bare legs, the rough press of Chad’s jeans against hsd hips. He had whispered something—something sweet and submissive, something Tammy would say to get what he wanted. Rusty wanted to retch just thinking about it.

'Chad, you know I need you,' she had said, her voice breathy and desperate. 'I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re always there for me, aren’t you?' and with this words his mouth wrapped around Chad's dick. As he knelt there, servicing Chad, Rusty could feel the baby kicking inside his belly and fell hope that this Chad was going to support his and his unborn baby.

"Ugh," he groaned aloud. Suddenly, Rusty snapped back to the present, finding himself on Chad’s lap, his arms draped around his neck. “What the hell?” Rusty muttered under his breath, his eyes wide with horror. Chad’s arm tightened around his waist, and he felt something hard pressing against his thigh.

Before he could react, the gruff voice of Phil, the bartender, cut through the haze of confusion. “Tammy! Quit foolin’ around and get back to work! I ain’t payin’ ya to sit in some guy’s lap all day!” Phil’s tone was harsh, lacking any kind of sympathy. It was clear he had no patience for what he saw as laziness.

Rusty blinked, the name ‘Tammy’ ringing in his ears, and he had to remind himself that this was who he was now—or at least who everyone thought he was. “Tammy,” he repeated, trying to get his bearings, but the memories of the past six months still swirled in his mind, making it difficult to focus.

He felt Chad’s hand slide down to his ass, squeezing it possessively. “Come on, babe, you don’t gotta listen to him. Stay here with me for a bit,” Chad murmured, his voice laced with desire.

Rusty’s skin crawled, and his anger flared. “Get off me!” Rusty yelled, pulling away and giving Chad's shoulder a sharp shove. He stumbled, nearly falling, before catching his balance and glaring back at Chad with disgust and rage.

"Tammy, hey, calm down," Chad raised his hands in surrender, his face pale. "I'm sorry, I was just having a little fun, relax-"

But before Chad could finish his sentence, Rusty spun around on his heels, bolting through the bar and ignoring Phil's calls. "Get your damn hands off me," He hissed as he walked past tables with laughing people, heading towards the exit door.

"Tammy, get the hell back here, now!" Phil hollered after her.

"I’m not Tammy, damn it!” he shouted when he reached the bar entrance door and turned to face them, glaring at Phil, his new boss.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just get your ass here and help me with the drinks, Tammy. You can smoke later, girl, damn it."

The rush of rain hitting him as he opened the door. He stood there for a moment, feeling the cool breeze wash over him. He took a shaky breath, glancing back into the bar. Phil was glaring at him from behind the counter, arms crossed over his burly chest.

"Tammy, I swear to God, you walk out that door, you better not come back!" Phil hollered, his voice carrying over the noise of the rain and the low hum of the country music playing in the background.

But Rusy didn’t care. He simply shook her head. "Goodbye, you assholes!" he snapped, his voice rising. Then he pushed the door open further and stepped into the rain, the buttons couldn't withstand the pressure of his breasts anymore, they popped out, revealing his breast. "Fuck all y'all! I'm done with this place!"

But after taking a few confident steps, cursing his jiggling tits, Rusty suddenly stopped. He realized that he, in fact, couldn’t go too far. Not now, not like this. 'Fuuuuck!' a flood of images, sensations, emotions.

He had been at the clinic, his legs splayed wide, the sterile smell of the room mingling with the sharp scent of antiseptic. He had been screaming, sweat pouring down his face as he gripped the sides of the bed. The pain was indescribable, radiating from deep within his, the baby’s head crowning as the doctor urged his to push, push harder.

Rusty winced, the sensation of childbirth flooding his mind. He could feel the agony of it, the searing pain that ripped through her, through him. ‘Jesus Christ, how the hell did she do this?’ he thought, his knees nearly buckling under the weight of the memory.

And then the joy—an overwhelming sense of love and protectiveness that washed over his as he looked down at the tiny face nestled against his breast. ‘No, no, no, this isn’t me!’ Rusty’s mind screamed, trying to shove the memories away, to disown them.

More memories came, fast and relentless. The cold, hard reality of being a single mother. Rusty could see the dingy, one-room apartment he lived in, the peeling wallpaper, the leaky faucet that dripped incessantly no matter how many times he tried to fix it. He remembered the endless nights spent soothing a crying baby, the overwhelming exhaustion that came from juggling two jobs just to make ends meet. The constant gnawing worry about money, about how he was going to pay the rent, how he was going to keep the electricity on, how he was going to feed her baby.

Rusty clenched his fists, his nails digging into the soft flesh of his palms. ‘No way in hell am I going to live her life,’ he swore to himself. ‘I’m going to find that damn remote, and I’m going to get my body back’

He glanced back at the bar, at Phil still watching him with a mixture of irritation and confusion. ‘I really feel like I know all of these people, and my baby, ugh! I mean, Tammy's baby,' he shook his head. ‘I’m going to find that damn remote, and I’m going to get my body back. But right now...'

Rusty took a deep breath, steeling himself. He straightened his back, feeling the unfamiliar weight of his breasts tug against the constricting polyester of his uniform top. 'Okay, okay, let's just play along for now'

"I'm sorry! I'm coming back," he called out to Phil, forcing a smile that he hoped didn't look too fake. "I just needed a quick cigarette break, that's all." He walked back to the bar and picked up a fresh drink order from one of the servers, while Phil grumbled something unintelligible, eyeing him with suspicion, probably fearing he would disappear on him, taking off again without notice, without warning. But also aware of Tammy's financial position he decided to just ignore what he witnessed.