“Rivals”

by Slick Psych

“Dude, take a look at this.”

“What?”

“It’s a really weird website called ‘Choose your Own Change…’”

“Yeah?” said Dalton as he feigned his interest in Blane’s new discovery. Dalton leaned over on the couch towards Blane’s notebook. “Whoa… this is about male transformations…. like becoming another dude.” The 6’2” meaty giant stood up and adjusted his flannel over-shirt. “That’s just creepy dude. Taking over someone else’s body. Is that like some fan-fiction site or something?”

Blane smiled inauspiciously to his friend, picking up subliminal vibes that Dalton was obviously uncomfortable; Blane had suspected that he’d be. Blane knew that he had to work slyly.

“Yeah, it’s unique… but don’t tell me that you’ve never wondered what it was like to be someone else.”

“No, I haven’t actually. I’ve got the good life right here.”

“Well no arguments there but still…” Blane looked up and acted as though he had an epiphany: “Hey! What about Brent?”

“What about Brent?” asked Dalton, becoming annoyed.

“I remember how you frequently competed with him in prep school and then in college, dude. About everything too… academics, wrestling... the ladies… He always seemed to irk you because he would always be an equal match.”

“So what’s your point?” Dalton asked insincerely then continued: “That because he managed to outshine me a couple of times I wanted to trade places with him?”

“Just sayin’ dude. Surely you must’ve wondered what it was like to be him.”

“Can’t say that I did.” Dalton crossed his massive arms and puffed his chest out a little.

Blane fell silent and just stared at his computer; pretending as though he felt sorry for broaching the subject. Dalton stood perpendicular to Blane, his body obviously tense. Dalton muscular torso was bouncing up and down because he was breathing heavily… almost as if he were stressed that they were talking about his long time rival. After an awkward three minutes of silence, Dalton smiled.

“You have a sick mind dude.” Dalton finally chuckled, sat back down next to Blane and stretched his long legs in front of his massive frame. He brought his 15” arms up behind his head crossing his fingers to the back of his palms and looked contemplatively up at the ceiling but staring at nothing in particular.

“If I did want to swap with Brent, it’d be to sabotage him.” Dalton said.

Blane let out an amused “hmph.”

“Yeah… you know… maybe get hammered before a match. Make him fail a test or two.”

Blane “hmphed” again.

“But you know the problem with body-swaps?” Dalton asked raising his bushy brown eyebrow and his piercing green eyes looking squarely at Blane. “The problem is that you actually swap.”

“Yeah, so?”

Dalton continued:,“Which means he’d be me and could implement the same offences… maybe eve worse.”

Waxing philosophically, Dalton stared back up at the ceiling: “A good rival stays a step ahead of you offensively that’s true… but an honorable rival is like a brother to you. You compete because it’s natural. It gives meaning to both your lives.”

“Awww… you’re thinking to hard about all this. I just said all that to paint you a picture of what you could do in his body….”

Dalton looked over at his friend and raised an eyebrow. “Gah you have some problems. I’d never wanna use his dick.”

“Not even once? Sex as another man… hell even masturbating as another man… would be interesting.”

“To you. Can’t even imagine forcing a woman to go down on Brent’s thing. Hahah, God forbid she’d have to bear the seed of an ugly son of a gun like him.” He laughed. “Poor Elana.”

“So it sounds like you still harbor feelings of rivalry towards the guy.”

Dalton smiled. “Those were the days, in retrospect… being evenly matched… haha even in charm I suppose.”

“If you could do it again… be his rival… would you?”

Dalton smirked. “Sure.”

Blane looked on his webcam and saw that ‘Ian’ was giving him the sign. He acted quickly: “Hey man, my computer just froze again. What’s the combo you press to get it to close the programs?”

“Told you that all that porn would freeze it you loser.” Blane handed the computer to Dalton. He looked down and saw two kids on the webcam.

On the other side of the country: “O.K. Allen. Look at this shit” said ‘Ian.’ Allen, who had been looking off in the other direction, quickly turned his head as ‘Ian’ looked away.

‘Allen’ blinked and shook his head. “Ouch man it just feels like my head was hit wif a bat!” ‘Allen’s’ voice sounded off. He looked to his right and saw the kid that he had seen on the webcam was not smiling at him.

“You o.k. dog?” the kid asked. ‘Allen’ noticed that the kid had a deep voice for someone who looked to be about 17. Before the new ‘Allen’ could answer ‘Ian’ immediately did a thumbs up to Blane and quickly signed out of his camera and shut down the computer.

“Who are you?” were the first words that came out of ‘Allen’s’ mouth. He realized that his voice was a higher pitch and instinctively he didn’t like it. ‘Allen’ looked down and noticed that he was shirtless. He held his hands out in front of him and realized that his skin was now a light brown; and that instead of his bulk muscle he now had more lean definition. He felt his abs and chest. He noticed that his equipment downstairs liked this stimulation. Still in shock, “Allen’ felt the hair on his head; he had never had a afro before… not that he could grow one before anyway. He noticed that his pants were sagging. “What the hell?” He pulled them up to his waist.

‘Allen’ looked over ‘Ian’s’ shoulder and saw a full length mirror. He stood in shock. The face staring back at him couldn’t be more than 17 years old. More shocking was the fact that he now had slightly darker skin and an ornate tattoo on his pectoral muscles that set nicely below his collar bones. Allen was a skinny boy, but he was still cut like a rock. He noticed his ears and his cheekbones… a different type of facial structure than what he had previously had, and this little fact alone pushed more blood into his groin. He noticed he was wearing shorts that sagged. He looked down at his feet… noticeably smaller than his previous size 14. He guessed himself to be about a size 10. He was wearing black ankle socks and noticed that his calf muscles were unusually toned. He figured that this must be a soccer player’s body from the athletic build and strong hairy calves. He rubbed his face… just impressed that he was seeing through another young man’s golden brown eyes.

“Done groping yoself pretty boi?” ‘Ian’ asked in an amused tone.

“Who da hell are you?” This higher pitched voice was slightly annoying him… but everything else… well… not so much. As ‘Ian” moved closer to ‘Allen’ that’s when the man formerly known as ‘Dalton’ realized that he was now a twin.

“Your brotha, Ian. Gah your such a foo’, Allen.” Ian bit his lip and began to playfully punch at Allen. Instinctively, Allen began to fight back. Allen was tap-boxing with Ian as if he had been doing it for years. This felt too natural… he mused.

Ian cut it off when he lightly smacked his brother on his cheek, indicating that playtime was over.

Somehow, the casual rivalry had calmed Allen down. Ian continued: “You get your wish, Allen, and it’s just like old times when we used to live in Connecticut.”

Allen’s eyes went big. “Bruh… what about our old lives.”

“Do you honestly even care?” Ian asked as he looked into the mirror and stood next to his brother.

Allen looked down at himself… his body. Not only was this a chance to compete with his rival again… but it was a chance to live life from a totally different perspective. Ian noticed his brother processing what had happened and continued to explain.

“But fo real FYI I the old me agreed to this months ago and told me dat his lil bro… which would be you… would be more dan interested in dis too… after he tried it out o’ course… kinda like I thot u would need too, too. So if afta a week you ain’t convinced… you two can go back.”

“And you two?” asked Allen with more concern than acceptance.

Ian smiled coyly and confidently. Though he was wearing a different body with a different age and race, Allen recognized that face. Ian confessed: “No matta who I am, I neva quit. You kno dat well. ‘Sides, Brent likes his life and his body… always wanted ta be a father n a husband now he is. Da advantages were obvious: Bangin ‘wife, top tier job, the bod of a successful man he ain’t complainin…”

Allen sat on his bed.

Ian went on: “And also FYI I’m 2 mintutes olda dan u so by nature I’m already betta.”

Allen was going thru his memories. He lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling.

“Yo, u up for some bball. All dis sitting here regrettin’ things is for old men.” Ian asked.

Allen, for fun, decided to adopt the vernacular that his brother was using: “Imma love to show u up n dat alone is enuf fo me… but what about Dalton?”

Ian laughed, grabbed his basketball from the floor, and dribbled a little… trying to show off that he had been practicing getting ready for this day. Ian said: “The new Brent told me that the old Allen was a lil… umm… on the other team if yous get my drift. Now, ol’ buddy Blane is a lil closet case himself. I figure dat the two will hit it off… as friends an’ who know wat else in time.”

Allen immediately understood that Blane had been all too game for this swap. He shrugged it off. It didn’t matter who he was as long as he had a chance to finally settle the score. This time around, he’d be better.

Allen stood up, his pants sagging just a little: “Hell yea. I can’t wait to cream yo creamy ass.”

Ian let out a fake laugh and said: “Yo, dat’s lame son I see you gonna have to work on your lines….”

Ian knew that Allen had accepted the new challenge.