Tatted

We were having tea next to each other. He poured me a cup. 'Here you go. This is how I like it.' He then sat next to me, silent. It was weird being at Anna's place without Anna. It was probably also a bit rude of her to make me bring her bike back and not be present. But it did not matter. I was weirdly enjoying the company of Sam, her new boyfriend.
Sam had the whole package. The beard I was trying to grow but which I was years away from getting and a body covered in tattoos. He had a sleek haircut and took care of his great body.
Instead, I was scruffy and a bit flabby. I dressed without much thinking: flannel shirts and whichever tee I had at hand. Gosh, I wished I had his body. The desire was so intense that I my crotch started filling up.
I turned and looked at him. He stopped stirring his cup and raised his chin. 'What the fuck, Andy! You look creepy.' But he couldn't finish the sentence that something magic happened: I entered his body and he transferred to mine.
He started looking around confused, he raised his hands and looked at them. I didn't give him the time to even mutter a word. I hit him with my head and his upper body fell on the table unconscious. I then found some tape on a shelf and sealed his mouth, tied his hands and dragged him to the storage room. I did all this quickly, as if I had done it millions of times. It helped that I knew the house.
Then I went to the bathroom, undressed and took a photo of me.

I looked awesome. I had the right tattoos in the right places and the 6-pack I had always dreamed of. And that beard. I jerked off right there, over the sink while with one hand I was touching my new face and my hair. I was ecstatic. I had to take a picture and memorialize the moment.
I then took some wax and remodelled my hair, went to Sam's room and pulled out some fresh clothes. A white tee, a pair of jeans. I loved pulling the tight jeans against my thighs. I liked the pressure of the denim against my skin. Then I put on his battered Dr. Martens. I rolled the hems of my jeans. I took another picture.

It felt good. I felt like smoking. I grabbed a package of cigarette that was lying on the table, I finished my cup of tea, took Sam's backpack and went out, in the streets of London. I could see some girls staring. I felt invincible and mysterious. I felt I could finally do everything I wanted.