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Summary
Beatty woke up with a sore back. His bed felt much less comfortable than usual, and the room much colder. He rolled over, trying to get on his stomach to stretch. Unfortunately for him, he hit the fucking floor.
“Ow, goddamn it!” He scrambled up onto his feet, feeling heavy. He must've been sick. Or overworked. He looked around, the room being dim and small. This was not his fucking house. What the hell?
[. . .]
Oh how fucked he was. The first thing he saw, of course, was that he was NOT his sinewy and tall body. Rather, he was in the body of his subordinate. He pinched himself, in hopes of waking up from the pain, but found himself trapped in this living nightmare. He was Montag.What.