Yer' a true hunter, m'boy.

You hear an exasperated sigh in your head. "No need to be rude, hunters generally need to be pretty big. And you're no exception!"

You groan and look down at your flabby body. "But why do I have ta be fat? Wouldn' muscle do tha same thing? An' why tha heck am I speakin' like you all of a sudden?"

"I already told you," Jack explains, "you need the fat to keep warm. And your voice changed because you became a hunter - it's how I've always talked."

"Yer' not talkin' like that right now." You grumble.

"Well, that's because I'm essentially you right now, as in your brain. Brains don't have accents. Bodies do though, which is why you've got my accent now. I thought that was obvious."

You sigh loudly. "Fine, where can I find some clothes ter cover meself up? I don't wanna run around stark-naked."

"Closet in the corner. You'll find underwear and other things in there."

You open the closet that Jack pointed out, and find that it's almost completely empty - there's only one set of clothes in it. You pull them on, and they fit snugly around your swollen body - something that would've been impossible mere minutes ago. After buttoning the shirt up over your hairy chest, you take a look in the mirror again. You now look almost exactly like Jack - then again, that's probably to be expected.

You stroke your beard experimentally, then grin and head to the only other room in the house and sit down in one of the chairs. You're not really sure why. The chair groans loudly as you lower yourself into it, and its a wonder that it doesn't break under your weight - you must weigh at least 150 kgs or something.

What now?

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