Shawn leaned in to listen closely to...himself. It was weird and a little uncomfortable to listen to his body say someone else's words, but Mr. Clayton didn't usually sleep. Maybe he'd let something important slip?

Shawn's body shuffled slightly and he let out a small moan. Then he heard Mr. Clayton's voice talk through his mouth. Just, watched it, or watched his body speak the words.

"Hehehe...yucka..yucka...Got to get into the body."

"...for good."

Shawn listened closely to the things Mr. Clayton said. It sounded threatening, like Mr. Clayton was trying to steal his body...but he couldn't quite be sure if Mr. Clayton was even talking about him. Or, since 'Papa' hadn't come in yet, he could be making things up to mess with him. All he could do was resolve to be on his guard.

Just then Shawn heard footsteps down the hallway. They started small, like they were coming from Dad's room. But as they got closer to Shawn's door.... Shawn, or rather, Shawn in his new Puppet body..felt the very carpet floor wobble with each heavy step.

Shawn didn’t have a heart to beat faster or breath to catch, but he still felt nervous as he realized what was coming. He stopped leaning in close to his real body and instead posed himself like he had been before. Like he was a perfectly ordinary inanimate puppet.

The door swung open with a loud 'Boom' noise at it hit the back of wall before the stopper jolted it in the opposite direction.

There was silence except for Shawn's body, breathing in and breathing out.

Then two large footfalls hit the carpet. Shawn could see out of his Puppet's eye the shape of his Dad's outline in the door. It was hard to say if Dad was actually bigger or if he just appeared bigger because Shawn was now a smaller, diminutive Puppet.

Shawn could hear the figure's breathing, presumably Papa or Shawn's Dad. The breaths sounded heavy and layered over the peaceful snoring of Shawn's body like heavy stones.

Shawn continued to stay completely still, thought he was surprised at how loud his Dad was being. He was surprised Mr. Clayton hadn't been woken up. He kept watch out of the corner of his eye - one advantage of his puppet's body was that it was easier to keep his reactions out of sight. No gasps without lungs, no cold sweat without skin, no pounding pulse without a heart. The fear was now just in his head.

Shawn looked out of the corner of his Puppet eye and saw the quick movement of Dad’s body across the room. Dad’s arm lashed out and caught Shawn’s Puppet arm and the next thing he knew he was being dragged along the floor, feet trailing behind him like he was on some kind of sled going in reverse.  Shawn watched his body fade further and further away as Dad dragged him into the hallway on the ground. One quick turn and Shawn was out of the room and no longer looking at his body, Mr. Clayton’s snores now fading into the background.

Shawn’s puppet feet dragged along the carpet. Nothing was painful, but there was nothing pleasant about the experience either.  Dad’s husking voice could be heard grunting along as he made his way back to Dad’s room, or at least that was the direction that they were headed.

Shawn felt small and helpless in the grip of his Dad - or at least, his Dad's body. It didn't hurt, and he reassured himself that if he was made of wood, he didn't have to worry about being hurt. It felt like it should hurt, though, which was an odd sensation that he was unfortunately getting used to the more time he spent in Mr. Clayton's body.

He felt a sinking sensation as his body left his view, but he tried to concentrate on the task ahead. He continued to let his free arm and legs dangle as he was dragged about.

Down the hallway and abruptly turning into the bedroom, the yank of Dad's arm and suddenly Shawn was thrust into the sitting chair. Dad's hands were moving with impossible, frenetic speed as he turned on the old-time radio, static crisp as he searched for a station.

"Almost there my friend..." A voice that wasn't Dad's at all came out of Dad's mouth. The voice was shrill and high-pitched, anxious. Like it needed to get whatever they were doing started and done with.

Shawn hadn't been entirely sure Mr. Clayton hadn't just made up the story about his Dad having an alternate personality, and he still wasn't sure if he 100% believed him. But hearing the strange voice coming out of his father's mouth, that was definitely proof that something was going on. He stayed inanimate, watching carefully as his Dad's body set up for...whatever was about to happen.

"Tee-Hee--hee!" Dad suddenly exclaimed, hopping from one foot to another in a manner that wasn't like Shawn's Dad at all.

He swooped down and grabbed Shawn's puppet body, set it on his lap, and thrust his hand into Shawn's back, making Shawn's puppet mouth open and close.

"And how are you today Mr. Clayton!?"

Shawn wasn't sure how to deal with...whoever was in control of his Dad's body. He seemed like a completely different person. He felt himself being bodily moved around, and then he felt the hand in his back, forcing his mouth open and closed.

He experimentally tried to open and close his mouth of his own free will, even trying to make a slight sound. Mr. Clayton always seemed to be able to say whatever he wanted, but would he be able to as well?

Surprisingly, when Shawn tried to move his mouth, a sound came out. It was a squeaky, high-pitched sound that was kind of like Mr. Clayton's own voice when the Puppet was making jokes.

"Are you joking with me again!?" Dad, or Papa asked, seemingly annoyed.

"You need to take this seriously. YOU PROMISED!!!!!" And there was a tone of anger in Papa's voice. Not the stoic, rageful anger of Shawn's Dad. Instead, this was a frenetic, nervous anger, like someone on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:12, Wed 17 Feb 2021.

Moving around felt strange to Shawn; he felt like he was opening and closing his mouth of his own will, but he could feel Papa's hand moving at the exact same time. It made it hard to tell who was moving who. The anger in Papa's voice, though, immediately refocused him on the present, and Shawn tried to coach his voice into an imitation of Mr. Claytons. "The only jokes in here are you and me! Relax, I was just feeling you out - I can tell you've been practicing! You're getting better!" He laughed out loud in Mr. Clayton's high-pitched tones.

"Listen you...you fucking doll!" Shawn's Dad said or Papa said an angry, desperate tone.

"CHANGE ME BACK." He said, his voice more cartoonish, but his face pale, sweaty.

"You said that if I kept practicing that you would change me back. And that you would leave my son alone."

The man's angry tone - whoever he really was - gave Shawn pause, but fortunately it was easy to hide your expression with a face made of wood. Was this actually his Dad? Or did whatever Papa that Mr. Clayton had created also have a son? He had to find out more. "Change you back to what? You look the same as always to me." He used a slightly mocking tone, one that made it sound like he knew the answer, like Mr. Clayton probably already did, but would hopefully also provoke an answer.

Papa-Dad's face screwed up into an angry rage. "Stop fucking around you Puppet-fuck." And he reached out and began to shake, throttle Shawn...or Shawn's Puppet body.

Despite the violent shaking, it didn't hurt. It felt more like a movie that Shawn was watching from a first person perspective.

Shawn felt weirdly detached from “his” body, which was probably helpful as he was shaken back and forth. He didn’t want to risk breaking character, so he waited until the shaking stopped and spoke again in his best imitation of Mr. Clayton. “I can’t help if I’m forgetful, my brains are made of wood! What do you think I did to you again? I do a lotta things to a lotta people.”

Papa-Dad's eyes rolled back into his head as he spoke in a high pitched voice.

"I'm so......tired." he intoned in a voice that sounded almost girlish.

"I haven't slept right in days. Nights. Whatever. That Wendy's commercial with the old man and his glasses flipping burgers keeps playing in my head over and over again since we spoke about it. You told me that all of this would go away if I practiced more. That you would take it away and let me sleep. That I could have a good night's sleep for once. But you keep taking and taking and taking and taking. When does it end?"

Shawn had never seen this side of his Dad - if it even was his Dad. He still wasn't sure, but it was difficult to see him like this either way. Still, he stayed in-character, because he couldn't think of an alternative. "Take what away? You gotta be specific, you know. Otherwise, you wouldn't want me to make a mistake, would you?"

"The voice. The practicing. The tasks you make me do. It has to end." Pap-Dad intoned in desperation. It was a high, chittery desperation. Like the voice had been filled with helium after sucking on a balloon.

"I need to sleep. I need to sleep." Papa-Dad begged.

"I don't know, I think your voice sounds normal to me." Shawn was still getting a handle on what had happened to Papa-Dad, but he tried to stay in character as Mr. Clayton and prod him until things became clear. "And anyway, me and your son are friends. What do you care about him anyway?"

Shawn had a sudden realization, that since he wasn't talking to Papa-Dad as himself, he could really just say whatever he wanted and not get in trouble. He could be mean or rude or selfish, and it wouldn't reflect on Shawn when he went back to his body. "I mean, he's a fag, right?" He still wasn't sure what the word meant, but Mr. Clayton had said it a bunch of times, and he knew it was bad. And that his Dad might think he was one.

Papa-Dad's whole body sagged. Then his voice resorted back to normal. Real Dad voice for a change.

"Who am I kidding?" Dad said. "This isn't going to work. I'm not going to be able to make this work, just like I couldn't get Howard to give me the promotion. I have no job. No prospects. I'm a loser."

Dad put Shawn's puppet body on the chair, then pulled up another chair in front of Shawn so they were facing each other.

"I'm going to tell you a story. You. A puppet. Since my wife doesn't listen to me. Since my son is a no good fag. Maybe you'll listen."

“I’m always listening.” Shawn tried to hold onto his Mr. Clayton voice, despite his inward upset. His Dad hadn’t pushed back against his insults against himself. He’d even agreed with them! After everything he’d done to make him happy!