Radiations

John and I were best buddies. We went to high school together, we go to gym together, we even go to the solarium together, which is where this story starts.

I'm the blond, he's the dark one. I know, I always liked John. There is something about him - his clean face, his careless hairstyles, his icy eyes, perhaps - that just takes me. But he's practically married with Simon now and I'm with Patrick anyways. We did make out once, but that was almost two years ago. A drunk night. I don't even think he remembers and I should forget as well, actually.
Anyways, we were both tanning when something went horribly wrong. There was an outage, we stayed in the dark for almost a minute. 'Don't touch yourself,' shouted John. Oh John's off-putting remarks. That's probably why I like him.

After a moment, the power returned, but I felt almost bombarded by rays, as if I were hit by high-intensity rays. I felt like I was Peter Parker before becoming Spiderman. I cannot tell for sure, but that's when I think everything started.
Dizzily, I left the bed and went to the changing room. 'Did you feel that weird sensation too?' asked John while we were waiting for our credit card to go through. We parted ways. We'd meet later at the club anyways.

I went to Topshop. I tried on a smart blue shirt and a blazer.

 I felt like dressing up as the venue we were going to was fancy. In my ripped jeans and tnned Oxford brogues, I felt sexy. The guy outside of the changing room must have felt my confidence because he gave me that look. 'What are you looking for?' I whispered, while handing him some of the items I was not going to buy. 'Flirty' he said, surprised. After he hanged a shirt on a hanger, he swiftly touched my crotch. I looked at him. I was horny. I could have fucked him right there, in front of every one. But I gave him half a smile and went, like the bitchy customer I was.

John arrived at the club late, as usual. The funny thing is that we were both wearing the same types of clothes. A dark blue jacket, a blue shirt. We looked like twins. 'We know each other too well,' he said while I was passing him a beer. We sat. 'I know, we're like a married couple,' I echoed. The occasion required a photograph.

We had a great time. I cannot even count how many beers we had. We talked about our respective partners, the problems at work, that stupid new policy at the gym. We caught up as we hadn't done in a long long time. But we also chatted with people and danced. 'Lady Gaga! C'mon John, let's party!' I hardly waited for his answer to be on the dance floor, swinging and jumping.

It is because of that euphoric state that I kissed John. My lips landed right there, on his open mouth while he was talking to me. And he kissed back as he grabbed my ass with one hand and the back of my neck with the other. It was long, too. Our tongues were playing and there was an unexpected synergy in our kiss, as if we had been practicing it for years. After I pulled my face away from his I started felling lightheaded.

I went to the bathroom to get some fresh water. While I was resting my arms on the sink, with my face still dripping, I noticed that the skin of my left hand was peeling off. Within 30 seconds the skin of my hand started looking like the skin of a chicken that has been roasted for two hours. I could break it like paper. Within two minutes the same happened to my arm. In five minutes my whole skin fell apart, as if it were a shell of some sort, revealing a whole new layer of fresh, tight skin together with a new body.

I was John. Oh my god. I had turned into mother fucking John. I could not believe it.

It is at that time that John entered. 'Are you OK? You've been here for an awful amount of time.'

I turned to him and that is when he realized that something went wrong. He looked at himself in the mirror over the sink. 'Oh my fucking shit. You're me. And I'm you. I'm YOU!' 

While I had turned into John, John had metamorphosed into me. He was shaking. 'Do not worry John, everything will be alright.' I made him sit and hugged him for a long time. He started sobbing. It took over two hours to relax him. I told him that we would switch back anytime tomorrow and that to find out how I had to look for a spell. The task was daunting, but by no means impossible.

The thing I did not tell him is that I had no intention to search for that crazy formula. Indeed I never did.  Not for a second. To be in John's body was just amazing, why would I give that up? Already on the very first few hours, while I was still shocked by the whole thing, I received more horny looks that I never received before and I'm not a bad-looking guy! Or perhaps I did not really receive them, but it was John's body that made me believe that. Being confident, even supremely so, can transform the way one  looks at the world and at myself.

We agreed to continue each others' lives and after I kissed him goodbye. I went home. I literally counted the seconds before reaching for John's door keys. Once in, I realised that Simon had left the tv on and he was sleeping on the sofa. Poor Simon, whom would he believe tomorrow? I looked up and took a picture of me at the mirror right after the entrance. 

Cool, I felt I had become an unbeatable catch. I could not resist it, I went to the bedroom and stripped myself. I looked at my abs and my bulging chest. I kept on observing every inch of my new body. I took some photographs and sent them to some random guys. To one I even wrote: 'Check this out, from Mr. Shredded.'

And it's then that I felt this urge to call my old me. 'Yeah? Steven here.' 'It's me - well, you - Steve. You know what? I've realized that I would like to fuck you tonight.'

Steven did not seemed shaken in the slightest. 'Come over, he said' in the traditional John's voice he was good to imitate. I went to his place and he opened the door, shirtless.

I really wasn't half bad. Why was I complaining so often about my old body when I inhabited it? I was fit! Or was it John speaking in my head? Did John have a crush on me? Oh well. It didn't matter anymore. Or perhaps it did because when he opened the door shirtless, I almost assaulted him, covering him in kisses and quickly removing his pants. Did John like me? It was so intense and urgent. We didn't even go to the bedroom, we made out right there, by the main door, surrounded by shoes and wet coats and umbrellas. Before that, I took his penis in my mouth and, after licking it and smelling the crisp odour of (unwashed) pubic hair - I sucked it as if I were slurping a piece of ice. 'Good boy,' he said. I grinned I returned to sucking. He moaned. I took his penis in my right hand and started masturbating him, faster and faster, while with the other hand I was caressing his inner thighs. He came on my face, his sperm forming a white spiderweb between my nose and my eyebrows.

A few moments later, while I was coming back from the bathroom, he said. 'You do realise that you'll dump Patrick, I'll dump Simon and we'll finally become a couple. You could move here.'

The sentence excited me beyond belief (a couple? the two of us?) even if I took it as mere flattery at that time.

'And you know,' I continued, 'that we won't.' He stopped smiling. 'I'll remain with Simon, who is a fucking hot model, and make out with him in every single room of the house until I tear him into pieces?' 'What the fuck are you talking about?' now he was getting angry. Without even turning my face, I finished him: 'I'm telling you: I'm never going to give you this body back.'

A Better Face

This is me. I took this picture this morning in the bathroom.

Many people tell me I'm cute. And that I'm funny. My boyfriend, too, tells me that.
Yet, I don't just want to be cute. I want to be handsome. I wanna get rid of my pimples. I wanna a more proportionate face, and piercing eyes. I wanna be like Jonathan.

This is Jonathan.
I took this photograph when we went to London for a school trip. He does not even know that I have taken it. Jonathan is gorgeous. He's got everything I'd like to have: the moves, the voice, the clothes, the coolness.
So I stole his life.
This afternoon he asked me to go over his place to help him with maths. I'm good at maths. I understand it. 'Hey, can you help me with this?' He asked 'I just really cannot solve it.' I leaned forward from behind his chair. I took his pen from his hand. 'You see? This is where you make a mistake.' His cheek was next to mine. He smelled of cool kid. His hair was gently touching mine. I had a boner.
So I turned and kissed him.
The kiss was longer than expected but it did not matter. Nothing mattered anymore. My boyfriend did not matter. My mother did not matter. My miserable life did not matter. For a second I could feel a flow of energy coming into me. I swallowed it as fast as I could. I felt reinvigorated.
When I removed my lips, Jonathan fell on the floor, unconscious. I kneeled and raised his head. That was my head, with my hair, with my nose, with my pimples. I gasped. I smiled. I couldn't stop smiling.
I ran to the bathroom and in the mirror I saw the extraordinary. I had his face. I had his body. I had his smile.
My penis was huge, turgid. I could not help it. I had to masturbate. Right there, with those hands, with that body, which I couldn't help touching. I was him, but I was still me. And I could feel my desire in direct contact with the body that I wished so badly. I kept on smiling.
I never came so hard. I felt overwhelmed with pleasure. It was magic.
When I returned to my senses, I got back to the study. He was still there, his face against the ground. I took off his clothes and dressed him in mine. I then wore his. I put them on slowly, enjoying every bit of this final stage of my transformation. I talked to myself: 'Jonathan, Jonathan?' enjoying every single syllabe of my lower voice. I felt his ripped chest under his cotton tee. I zipped his hoodies, as he often does. I was acquiring his mannerisms. Good. Great.
In the back pocket was his phone. I went upstairs, to his room. I looked myself again in a large mirror attached to his wardrobe and was, once more, overwhelmed with happiness. I retouched my hair. Nothing else mattered. Nothing. I touched my face and smiled again. 'Who's the cool kid, now?'
Then I lay on his bed covered in white-and-blue stripes. Even his bed looked like it was coming from a magazine. I took his phone out and took a picture of me as Jonathan. I uploaded it on Instagram so that the whole world could see the new me. So I could start believing it more myself. This is me, now.