#i've held onto this vague memory of what i was like when i was younger but i didn't know just how relevant the parallels would be | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

verus-veritas · 5 years

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Antonio

A very well-written story by “Collan” on Male Transformation Blogspot. He really knows how to draw you in. /Verus

"Give those back!" shouted a whiny, boyish voice. "You can't do this! It isn't fair! You have no right!"

The early morning sun felt warm and soothing on my bare torso as I stood by the side of the path near the old wooden picnic tables at the far edge of the park. My right arm was raised in the air, holding a small device and a pair of glasses in my hand, well out of reach of the much smaller boy who had shouted at me. We were both seniors in high school, but he looked years younger than I did, and even though I was already naturally tall, he was so short that I towered over him by almost a foot.

"Give what back, Georgie? These?" I asked nonchalantly with a false expression of concern on my face. I reached up with my left hand to pluck the glasses from my right and examined them briefly with a look of mild pity. "Shame you're so terribly blind without these. I suppose it would be too cruel to leave you here without them. Here you go." I said, and with an expert flick of the wrist tossed them far over his head to land in the still-wet grass behind him.

I took a moment to marvel at the dexterity in my left hand as I watched Georgie track the arc of his glasses to see where they landed. His short, pudgy body scuttled across the grass to retrieve them, and he dried them off with the hem of his overlarge t-shirt before putting them back on and then turning to glare at me in fury.

"You fucking bastard! You ‘know’ what I mean! That's ‘my’ body! Give it back, or I'll..."

"Or you'll what?" I interrupted, with a tone of quiet condescension in my newly low baritone. "What will you do, Georgie?"

"Stop calling me that! ‘I'm’ Antonio, you little faggot!" The anger on his face looked oddly out of place on his rounded features. The expression just didn't work on him.

"Little faggot?" I asked him dangerously as I felt a surge of anger rush through me. In the immediacy of the moment, I hadn't really allowed myself yet to settle into his mind, and the emotion caught me off guard. Damn, but this boy had anger issues, and testosterone to spare to fuel it. It almost overwhelmed me for a moment, but I managed to rein it in.

Still keeping the device out of his reach, I moved towards him with a little bit of a strut and an evil grin playing about my lips. I loved the way this body language felt so natural already. God, I wished I could see myself from the outside right now. I was probably sexy as fuck. Oh well, I had plenty of time for that later. I needed to stay focused on playing out this inevitable little drama and get it over with.

"You might want to calm down a little, Georgie. You're starting to make a scene. You sound a little crazy there. ‘I'm’ Antonio and ‘you're’ Georgie. ‘I'm’ the tall, sexy Italian stud and ‘you're’ the fat little nerd. Just look at yourself-" I said with a note of disgust. "How could anyone confuse ‘that’ with ‘this’?"

I deliberately teased him and pretended to give him the opening I knew he'd be looking for, lowering my arm and using the hand that held the device to gesture first to him, then to me. Right on cue, he made an attempt to try and grab for the device, but my reflexes were far too fast for him, and I whipped it instantly out of reach again. I knew he could never match me physically, since of course I knew his body's capabilities, or the lack thereof really, far too well. It was truly a miracle I'd managed to pull this off at all, but the reward was definitely all the pain and suffering that had led up to it. I realized I was starting to drift mentally again and brought myself back to the moment.

"Ah, ah, ah." I said and wagged my finger at him as if scolding a small child. "No grabbing for things that aren't yours or you'll have to go in time out!"

He shook his head as if to clear it and pressed his palms to his temples in frustration. "God, this is some kind of nightmare! It has to be!"

The opening was too good to pass up and I took it. "Yes, Georgie, it ‘is’ a nightmare, and I'm guessing it's just going to get worse for you."

"How? How can it get worse?" he almost whimpered, as unbidden and unwanted tears started to fill his eyes. God, I was so glad I had left that uncontrollable urge to cry behind! It was time to take the gloves off, push all his buttons, and make him start to see the agony that I had endured at his hands.

"Because," I replied, lowering my voice further so there was no chance of accidentally being overheard, "I can see that what is starting to happen to me is starting to happen to you too."

"But what do you mean? None of this makes any sense!" he cried, sitting back down at the picnic table and burying his face in his arms.

"It will soon. Very soon now," I said. "You'll know it all shortly, so it's time to drop the pretense."

That caught his attention. He lifted his tear-stained face to look at me, and I almost laughed as he realized his crying had smudged his glasses again, and he had to take them off, clean them, then put them back on again to see me clearly.

"What I mean is this. Thanks to this little device here," and I brandished it briefly as I continued, "I jumped my consciousness into you, and because we were both touching it when I pushed the button, you've retained your own consciousness and are aware of the switch. And let me tell you, setting this up and pulling it off was a total bitch. Letting you torment me every Saturday morning for weeks so that when the time came, you wouldn't think it was strange that I was sitting here waiting for you. Practicing maneuvering myself so that I could click this little button while we were both touching the device at the same time. With your size, strength, and speed against mine it could have gone wrong at any moment, but it didn't, thank god."

He was looking at me incredulously, his mouth hanging open, but no words came out of his mouth.

"I could have just taken you over from a distance," I went on, "and you would have turned into Georgie with no memory of ever having been Antonio. But I couldn't have that. You ‘had’ to know. You ‘have’ to know! To fully ‘know’ the suffering I've endured for years because of you! And you will!" My temper had risen again, stronger this time, and I was startled by the sudden violent urge I had to lash out and hit. Something, anything, him! This ‘thing’ in front of me that had made my life a misery for so long!

"But it's not possible!" he protested.

His statement surprised a bark of laughter out of me and broke through the growing anger. I shook my head in amazement. "How can you say that when you're sitting there in that pathetic body? Really ‘look’ at yourself, well, your ‘new’ self." I chuckled, but then grew serious. I began to direct him verbally, knowing from his crying moments before that his new emotions were beginning to take hold of him and an urge, a hunger, to obey me, to be dominated by me, his fantasy man, was lurking just under the surface.

"Look at your small, plump hands," I told him. "Look at your pale, pale skin. Feel the limp, thin hair on your head. Feel the paunch at your belly. Look... Feel... Touch... Touch your bicep and flex it. Not much there to flex, is there? Now how can you say this isn't possible?" My voice had fallen into an almost mesmeric cadence that I wasn't aware I was capable of. A vaguely erotic thrill rose in me at the thought of the control I was wielding, as I watched my nemesis examine my former body, following every direction I gave him almost without thought.

When I finished, he hugged his arms to his body tightly and started to tremble as if it were the dead of winter instead of a beautiful late spring day. I suddenly realized what was coming and jumped back in time, noticing in passing how much farther back I had jumped than I had expected to and how easy it had been. He turned towards me and vomited, heaving violently into the grass where I had just been standing. I waited while he emptied the contents of his stomach out onto the ground in front of him.

"What's happening to me? I feel like I'm losing all control of myself. Why are you doing this?" he asked hoarsely while he continued to cough and spit to clear his mouth as his sickness subsided.

I started walking towards the next table over, and I knew he would follow. It was as much to get away from the puddle of puke in the grass as to give him the opportunity to rinse his mouth out at the nearby water fountain. I wanted him paying attention to me, not the foul taste in his mouth.

I pointed him to the fountain, then continued. "What's happening to you is that you're in my body just as I'm in yours. I didn't expect you to blow chunks like that, but I guess if I had gone from this to that with no warning, I'd be pretty repulsed too. Plus I'm sure the pile of greasy sausages I ate for breakfast didn't help. I do love the taste, but they always do a number on my stomach. Well, ‘your’ stomach now. A little welcome gift from me to you." I snickered, and he glared again as he finished rinsing his mouth out at the fountain.

"You're also starting to feel my mind, just like I'm starting to feel yours. The emotions are beginning to make themselves known, and the memories will start filtering in after that. As the integration accelerates, you'll start living on my autopilot essentially. You'll still be aware of having been Antonio, but your speech patterns, your body language, your emotional reactions, your wants and loves and hates and fears will all be Georgie. ‘You’ will be Georgie. You ‘are’ Georgie. That's what's happening to you. And ‘I’... ‘I’ will be Antonio.”

Source: “Caption This!” 14/06/2014

#bodyswap #bully #revenge #racial #maletransformationblog

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a-simple-lee · 7 years

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OMG THOSE DRABBLES ARE AMAZING :'D I've been following your blog for so long now and think you're an amazing writer. You're just.. omg.. so good! :D Can I request one?! Number 45 "We are leaving. Now." with maybe Sam and Dean and the reader as their little sister? Maybe she's in a fight or something but it turns out it wasn't actually all her fault and the brothers were too hard on her, so they decide to cheer her up when they get home :P

Author’s note: Ahh, Thank you so much! That means a lot to me, so thank you from the bottom of my heart! I’m glad you like my trashy ramblings, haha! And thank you for sticking with me through my varying obsessions! I’m not too keen on the ending, and it came out more serious/angsty than I’d intented - also, this thing is way longer than I’d planned, but here ya go!

WordCount: 1,539 (barely even a drabble lmao)

Triggers: Includes violence, swearing and mentions of failed sexual assault attempts.

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“B*TCH!” Yet another fist came hurtling towards you. A sudden urge to roll your eyes came over you as you grabbed the balled-up hand and pushed it away with a huff. Apparently screaming derogatory terms was the only thing this drunkard was capable of. Your body swerved to avoid another blow as your angered opponent aimed another punch towards your face.

“Y/N!” A panicked voice rung out over the shouting of the people around you, and your head turned to see your brothers running towards you. With a swift kick to the groin, you sent your assailant to the ground, and jogged over to your siblings. The smile on your face vanished when you noticed their stern expressions.

“HEY!” Yelling suddenly drew your focus back over to your opponent, who was surrounded by his friends. One of them eyed you with disgust, and rose from the floor to storm towards you. You stretched your wrists and prepared for round two. He was going down-

“We are leaving. Now.”

Your world spiralled around you as a hand roughly gripped your shoulder, the fingers digging harshly into your skin as someone yanked you around to face them - it was Dean. His eyes scanned you for injuries before he grabbed your wrist and began pulling you away from the scene, Sam close behind. Too overwhelmed to do much else, you followed the brothers blindly as they started tugging you towards the door.

Everything had been a blur of panic, colour and adrenaline. Minutes seemed to pass in the blink of an eye as the three of you fled the men from the bar - instinct overrode all else as feet slapped against concrete, the flat-out sprint barely tiring you as panic forced you to flee. Existence consisted of the gaps between tired breaths, of the split-seconds where neither of your feet were on the ground, when you were flying, if only for a moment. It wasn’t until you reached the Impala and pulled away from the sidewalk that things slowly came back into focus. Dean was swearing profusely, Sam glancing over his shoulder to glare at you from the shotgun seat. Words escaped your grasp as shock numbed you - it had all happened so fast, and your mind was only just catching up. All you could do was give vague “mhm’s” of acknowledgement in response, your body too busy recovering for you to stand up for yourself. After a couple of minutes of your brothers ranting, they realised they were getting nowhere, and let you recover in silence, the air between you tense as Dean drove, sunset approaching.

---------------------------------------

“Alright, what the f*ck were you thinkin’?!” You winced at Dean’s tone as you stepped out of the car, shutting the door quietly and leaning against Baby with your arms folded. It was one of those nights where Dean had driven you off road to some cliff to drink beer and watch the sun go down - except this time, you weren’t sure if there would be much of either; the beer drinking or the sunset watching. A stray lock of hair blew over your forehead - you sent it back with a loud huff.

“He started it.”

“Yeah well it doesn’t matter who started it - what matters is that you were too damn irresponsible to stay quiet. We leave you alone for ten minutes - ten minutes! And what do you do?! Start a friggin’ riot! Way to go!”

Suddenly your throat tightened with guilt as you remembered what had happened. You glared intently at the floor, and sniffed. That guy had tried to- bile rose in your throat at the very thought.

“You don’t understand-”

“Yeah, I do! I understand perfectly! You got yourself in trouble and we had to dive in to save your sorry a*s!”

“N-No-”

“Oh, that’s not it, huh?! How about you decided to beat up some guy because you felt like some attention?!”

“Dean, stop-” Sam had noticed the hurt in your eyes.

“No, can’t you see?! The witness was about to cough up!”

“BOTH OF YOU!” Tears threatened to spill over your eyes, but you blinked them away, swallowing the lump in your throat. Your siblings stopped to look at you, worry dotting their features for the first time.

“Look, I know I-I messed up the case, but I didn’t want to start a fight. But that guy-he was...h-he tried to...” Visions of that afternoon swarmed into your head, drowning out the buzz of the nearby crickets. Your breath quickened at the memory, and everything came crashing back to you at once...

--------------------------------

“Hey, beautiful.” The alcohol-laced voice had already put you on edge. You reluctantly glanced up from your soda to see the man, grinning in a way that immediately had your nerves on edge. Your legs tensed in case you needed to run. Eyes wide, you decided not to respond - maybe if you didn’t play ball, he’d grow bored.

A hand on your waist. The rancid stench of vodka as he breathed out heavily. That sick grin which would be embedded in your memory for the rest of your life. You knew what would happen if you didn’t put an end to it - the very concept set your blood boiling with fear.

“Get off of me,” You spoke clearly, firmly. The grip tightened, forcing your breaths to become shallow.

“You aren’t going anywhere.”

That was it. Time to save yourself. You scrambled off the stool, the chair clattering to the floor as you pulled on the wrist holding you.

“Now listen here,” He punched you in the stomach, the blow knocking the breath from your chest but fortunately not leaving any lasting pain.

Things only escalated from there. Amongst the blur of skin, you managed to wrench his hand off of you. Perhaps the drink had weakened him - thus far, none of his touches had caused you physical pain. You shook out your arms, and hurled yourself towards him.

---------------------------------

“Hey, hey,” Sam’s voice reached you. Your legs were weak, bent as you leaned against the Impala for support.

“H-he was going to...if I didn’t stop him he would’ve...he put his hand on my waist...he called me beautiful...he was drunk,” The story flowed out as the lump in your throat subsided.

“Sh*t, oh sh*t,” Dean was pacing, his features pale and his eyes worried. Suddenly he turned to face you, eyes piercing as he searched you.

“You’re ok?”

You nodded shakily in response.

“I’m so sorry, I should’ve - if anyone tries again, just say-”

“Dean,” You smiled weakly. “It’s fine. You didn’t know. Besides, He didn’t hurt me. I got lucky.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry, too. For what I said in the car - God, I’m so stupid.”

“Oh shush, you two,” You attempted to brush it off, pulling yourself upright and opening the car, retrieving three beer bottles.

“Let’s just chill, ok? We can solve this case tomorrow morning,” Tossing a drink to each of your brothers, you slid onto the front of the impala, the front window serving as a backrest. Seconds later, Sam and Dean joined you, overlooking the falling sun, the three of you illuminated by its dying light. But you still felt horrible. Maybe Dean was right- you’d held them back today.

Sam leaned forward to study your features. He turned and placed his beer on the roof with a sigh, before poking you in the side.

“Hey, lighten up. You did great today, fending for yourself.”

You frowned.

“Stop frowning, you,” With a grin you recognised all too late, your older brother grabbed one of your wrists and started pinching your side, experienced fingers immediately targeting your sweet spots.

“Nahaha! Sahaham!” You twisted to face Dean, who was suddenly wearing a similar grin. Eyes wide, you shook your head at him through your laughter. Within seconds, your other wrist was pinned against the windscreen, and two hands were scribbling up and down your torso, the electricity from your nerve endings powering a smile that rivalled the disappearing sun. Those two always knew how to reduce you to hysterics in seconds.

“Woah, you’re still ticklish, sis? Guess girls don’t grow out of it,”

“SHUHUT UHUP, DEHEHAN!”

“Shut up?! How rude! You’ll pay for that,”

“NONONO IHI’M SOHORRY! NAHAHAT THEHEHERE! NOHO!”

“Hey, Dean, do you still think raspberries work on her?”

“NO NOHO PLEHEASE-”

“I dunno, Sammy. Let’s find out.”

“DOHOHON’T YOUOHO DAHAHARE!”

“3, 2, 1...”

“AAAHAHA! NAHAHAHAHAAHA!” Tears of mirth dotted your eyes within seconds as you thrashed against your sibling’s hold, laughter going silent within seconds. It wasn’t until you were silently begging, tears streaming down your face, that they stopped.

You curled up on the car bonnet, breaths coming in giggly hiccups, a smile on your face that would surely linger for hours.

“Y-yohou ahare soho evihil!”

“Hey, we’re big brothers. It’s our job.”

“Y-yeheah?” You panted, rising onto all fours. “Wehell, i-it’s my job as little sister to get revenge on the eldest!” With a triumphant battle-cry, you tackled Dean, Sam immediately rushing to help you, the two of you laughing as you fulfilled your role as younger siblings.

Needless to say, you were going to get him next.

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