Charlaine Harris owns these characters. Aurora151989 inspired me with one of her tantalizing challenges, and so this is for her.

I never in a thousand years thought I'd find myself in this position. I am sitting on the back steps of Sookie's house waiting for her to get home from work. It's freezing and I don't have a jacket with me. Hopefully, Sookie has something I can borrow just to get me through tonight. I'm also exhausted and the muscles in my back ache. I stand and stretch, hearing a popping sound. That can't be good. I rub my eyes and press my fingers into my temples. Great--a fucking headache. I have no idea what people take for this type of pain these days. Sookie will know. God, I wish I knew when she'll be home.

I try not to focus on the pain behind my eyes when suddenly I realize that I have an additional discomfort as well. In my abdomen. I press into my stomach and feel nothing unusual, then poke around a little lower until it hits me: I need to urinate. Fuck.

I stand and wander into the woods behind the house until I find a suitably wide tree trunk and stand behind it. I open my pants and remove my flaccid member and look down. Good lord, it is tiny. How completely disappointing. I separate my legs into a wider stance, aim my ridiculous penis away from me and push from within. Almost immediately, I feel euphoric at the relief. Apparently, that pressure had really been building up and I hadn't realized what it was. I really had to go. It smells horrible, but at least I feel better. The stream begins to diminish and I take a little hop back to avoid getting any urine on my pants. This penis is just way too short. A tiny bubble of gas escapes my anus as I push a final time to empty my bladder. Great. I need to defecate as well. What next? All these procedures are completely disgusting. I push from within again and decide that I can most likely postpone defecating for awhile. It certainly doesn't seem as urgent as the urinating was. Thank goodness. The last thing I need is for Sookie to discover me squatting behind her house like an animal. Fuck. I am an animal. A fucking disgusting one.

I find my seat on the back porch steps again and try to retrace the steps that got me here. Earlier tonight, I was in my office doing paperwork when Pam summoned me to the bar. She said the vermin needed a look at me and so I complied and sat on my throne for an hour or so. I snarled at a few tourists and leered at some fangbangers until they swooned and giggled. So predictable.

When I felt I'd done my duty, I returned to my office, but as I approached the door, something felt wrong. I couldn't put my finger on it, but something smelled off. Now I know that it was magic. I didn't recognize it at the time, unfortunately, or I wouldn't be sitting here now. I opened the door and saw him sitting on the floor, cross-legged, eyes rolled back into his head, humming mindlessly. There was a circle drawn around him on the floor and candles lit all over the room. I closed the door behind me and suddenly he began to mumble in Latin and his head fell back. I should have just jumped on him in that moment, but I was too slow to respond. I wanted to, but perhaps the magic forced my response to falter. I'm not certain. He stopped speaking and his mouth opened wide to the ceiling.

Suddenly, I was gripped by an overwhelming sensation. It wasn't painful exactly as much as urgent. I vaguely registered that it felt like I needed to vomit which I hadn't done in over a thousand years, of course. I grabbed my stomach and felt a pressure as if something or someone was slapping me on the back. I gagged and a surge of air was forced from my mouth. I felt an immediate sting of cold and light and speed as though I was racing through a bright white tunnel. And then I hit a wall and everything went dark and I was warm and suffocating. I opened my mouth to try and get some air and coughed a few violent coughs as I swallowed large gulps of air. I put my hands on my throat as I took heavy ragged breaths, desperately sucking air into my lungs. I tried to suppress a wave of panic and soon I was taking regular breaths. I opened my eyes and brought my head down, facing forward.

I was not prepared for the sight before me. I saw myself standing in front of my closed office door with a wide-eyed expression on my face. I seemed to be staring past me (okay, that makes no sense, but it's the truth). Then my eyes focused on me and I watched my mouth curl up into an evil smile. I had an odd random thought at how handsome I am and then suddenly I watched myself turn around, open the door, and step out into the hall. I scrambled clumsily to my feet and followed myself out and down the hall to the back door. I watched myself push the back door open and then bend my knees and spring forward, disappearing into the sky. I ran after myself and reached up, trying to follow, and realized that I couldn't get airborne for some reason. I jumped and fell forward, feeling immediate pain as I landed face first on the pavement.

I stood and brushed myself off and that's the first time I registered what was different about me. I ran my hands down the front of my thighs. My pants were black. My thighs were lean. Skinny, even. I turned my palms up and stared into my hands. They weren't mine. I touched my face. Not mine. Hair. Not mine. It all came to me in a sickening flood. He'd switched bodies with me. The motherfucker had done some sort of magic and switched our bodies. I felt a wave of nausea. At least I assumed it was nausea. I bent over at the waist and gagged. Yellowish, foul-smelling liquid poured from my mouth and splattered onto the pavement. Good god, it was disgusting. I coughed and gagged some more, trying to catch my breath. No more liquid seemed to be emptying from my stomach and so I stood straight and searched the sky. But there was no sign of me. The motherfucker was long gone.

I wanted to get back to my office to regroup, but the door had locked behind me. I walked around to the front of the building and got into the line waiting to enter the bar. As the line moved forward, I looked ahead and saw a very bored Pam checking i.d.s. I panicked at the thought of her confronting me. I had no idea what I would tell her. How could I convince her what had just happened to me? Would she believe me? What if she didn't and she decided to kill me instead? Suddenly, getting into my office didn't seem so urgent. I realized that a human self-preservation instinct had kicked in and I was afraid of Pam simply because she was a vampire.

I turned around and left the parking lot unnoticed. I started walking, trying to think of my next move. I was afraid to approach another vampire with my predicament. Too dangerous. Could I get to my house? And then, how would I get in? If I broke in, I'd be arrested. Jesus. This is so fucked up.

I reached into my pocket and found a set of keys and a wallet. I had no way of knowing where this idiot's car was. He didn't have one of those electronic keys, so I couldn't click it and hope to find the car. I opened the wallet. Fourteen dollars. Fuck. I felt helpless. Alone. I knew that Sookie was my only real hope at getting any help, but I hated the thought of going to her in this condition. I was scared. And frail. And fucking human. Plus, I most likely smelled like vomit.

I took a deep breath and tried to calm my nerves. I was going to have to do whatever I needed to do to survive this. I tried to still the practical part of my brain and ignore the panicked part. I stuck my thumb out and waited for a ride to Bon Temps.

My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a car coming up the gravel drive. Finally, Sookie is coming home. I feel an enormous relief that I'll soon no longer be alone with my massive problem. Sookie will help me. I've done the right thing coming to her.

I stand and wait until she parks and gets out of the car. I approach her, suddenly overwhelmed with human emotion at how afraid I am. My eyes sting and I feel the cool night air chill the wet tracks that tears make down my face. I reach my hand to her, desperately hoping for her sympathy and comfort.

She looks at me with wide-open eyes as she closes her car door. I implore her with my own tear-filled eyes. She takes a step back in…fear? Confusion? She steels her spine and takes a breath. I notice her hands shaking—one at her side, one on her purse. Finally, she speaks: "Bob, what are you doing here?"

All I can do is cry like a baby.