“This is too Easy”

by Slick Psych

“This is too easy,” I though to myself. “I can’t believe that I didn’t understand integrals my first time in Calculus.” I smiled knowingly to myself, imagining my cute face with its cheeky grin nicely placed in a coy smirk to the right. I mumbled to myself, “Guess what they say is true: hindsight is the best way to gauge success.

I’m livin’ proof o dat now.”

I felt my groin stir. I loved the way my voice sounded when I whispered and how naturally I had assimilated to a Black teenage boy’s dialect. I felt as though I oozed sex appeal without even trying. In fact, I know that I did. Not only was I the creme de la creme of my senior class, I was also a trophy boyfriend. At least that’s what Shaya tells all the school… and what Jace tells me during our private time! As I finished up the test my thoughts immediately began turning to the homecoming game tonite. I looked up from my seat in the back of the room and saw D’Andre hard at work. He felt my glance and looked up at me and asked in a rather loud whisper: “Nigga, you finished dis shit already?”

“Yea homes it ain’t dat hard.”

“Shiiyt. Imma fail dis test fo real foo. Mr. Simmons ain’t teach us this shit.”

I couldn’t focus on his complaining. I was more interested in his shoes. “Nigga when is you gonna lemme borrow dem kicks.”

“I ‘unno. When are you gunna actually find time to tutor a nigga?”

Caitlyn, sitting in front of me, turned around. “Boys, I respect your choice of language and endorse your right to speak freely but….”

“Ayyy.. I gotchu.” I said. “Our bad… err.. mistake.” She smiled. “Ready for the game Xavier?”

“Yea we gonna dominate dem byatches.” She rolled her eyes and I realized what I had said. “Errr.. yo sorry Katy. But yea we’re gonna go all the way this year!”

I stood up as quietly as I could but my key ring kinda announced my movements. I felt that my pants had slacked some so I tugged at them and took a long upward stretch lifting my arms as high as I could above my head. I stretched far enough up so that Caitlyn (and D’Andre) could see the bottom of my waist and the nice treasure trail of hair at the base of my navel that led to my groin area. I brought my right hand under my shirt, feeling the outline of my abs and doing it nonchalantly so that as I gave her my million dollar smirk I knew that she would blush a little. Out of the corner of my eye I saw D’Andre looking too… I knew that look of jealously/admiration: the look other men give you when you know that they hate you AND want to be you. I looked at the clock and realized that I had finished the test in only 30minutes. “Daymn…” I said to no one in particular in a heavy sigh. I still have an hour in this class to kill.

I sauntered up to the teacher’s desk; my body just naturally having a swagger and sway in my walk. I knew that I had successfully assimilated not only my speech to Xavier’s and his peers, but also my mannerisms. As far as I was concerned, I was and always will be Xavier Brown through and through. I handed my test to Mr. Simmons and he immediately looked at it.

“I must not be making it hard enough.”

“Nah, sir, it’s plenty hard because the rest o the class is still taking it.”

“Guess you’re just confident, huh?”

“Guess so.”

“You seem to have made a small error on number five here.” He said as he handed me my test back.

“No sir, I’m positive everythin’ is correct.” He looked down again.

“Ah, so it is. I can’t slip anything past you.”

“Sir, I’ve already copied down tha homework off tha board and seeing as how this is fourth period may I be excused to head on down to the field to warm up befo the rest of the team arrives?”

Simmons kept staring at my paper, no doubt trying his best to find a mistake. I stood next to his desk in obedient attention waiting for him to finish grading. When he finished he looked up at me, put his glasses on his desk and put his palms on his cheeks.

“Another perfect paper,” He dejectedly admitted and I heard the class behind me let out moans.

“Xavier, you always skew the bell curve!” cried the class president, Bethany.

“Sorry ya’ll nex time Imma be stupid to help ya’ll out.” I janked with a smile and did a mockingly humble Japanese style bow in the direction of the class with my hands by my side.

“Whateva” yelled D’Andre, “next time you gonna help a homie out by doing group study!”

Mr. Simmons interjected, “All right, all right. Settle down everybody and do your best. We’ll discuss results when it’s time to discuss results.” He looked at me. “Yes, Mr. Brown, you are free to head to the field.”

“Thanks and good lookin’ out, Sir” I said. I went back to my desk, got my gym bag and backpack and started to head out the door. Mr. Simmons cried out: “Mr. Brown, come here please.” Again, I sauntered over to his desk. “You’ve made a big academic turn around since the second semester of your sophomore year. And from what I understand you’ve scored excellent on your SATs and AP tests. I know that the State University’s recruiters are going to be at the game tonite, but I don’t want you to rule out some more… how do I say this nicely… academically rigorous programs of higher learning.”

I smiled, put my hand to my face and acted like I was stroking a longer goatee than what I was sporting. My friends and I like to call it acting like an ‘old school white man.’ In a mocking tone, I said: “Oh, you mean such fine schools as Hahvahd and MIT my good man.” Simmons smiled and gave me a pat on my butt (I know he had been dying for an excuse to try to touch it all term…)

“Yes I do,” Simmons said. “I’ll be more than willing to help you with your applications. You still have a solid two months before they’re due. We can get it done in that time.” He offered his hand out to shake mine.

“Thank you, sir.” I said and gave him a hearty handshake back. He added, while subtly licking his lips and using his green eyes to stare squarely into my dark brown eyes: “They’re looking for young men who are like you….”

“Black n poor? Guess all those years o slavery needta be compensated somehow n scholarship is a good way.”

“Look at it as you will…but men like you have a lot to offer… to other men… so don’t hesitate to come talk to me about anything,,,, ever…” I knew what he was getting at, and since I have a good since of humour I wink and say: “I won’t.”

As I walk down the hall I laugh. “Daymn dat Bill Simmons is a pervert hahah and has a bad case of da jungle fever… daymn.. always has been lecherous tho,” I say to no one in particular. Bill was once my colleague… until two years ago when I possessed Xavier. But who knows? As a way to motivate him to write some amazing recommendations for me I just might let him get a lil’ taste of my chocolate. My teenage brain liked the thought of it: “His bitch ass can suck some cock. He’ll go inta cardiac arrest just tastin some of mah cum. It’ll no doubt be da best suck n fuck he’s eva had…”

I walked out of the building and headed towards the fieldhouse. Since I was the first one there, I had to unlock the door to the locker room. I threw my items on the bleacher in the changing room and started to strip out of my school jersey. I always liked warming up in the near-nude. I stood with just my black wife beater clinging to my chocolate colored chest, grabbed some basketball shorts but didn’t put any underwear on underneath and pulled out my old white high top Nikes… no socks of course. I ran a hand over the tops of my pectoral muscles. I spotted a mirror on the other side of the room and looked at my full body. I was a black teenager with options opened up to me; I fully intended to use them well.

I already smelled my musk; it always turns me on.

Going from a 50 year old Chinese immigrant to this form was a culture shock, then it slowly transformed into an opportunity. It wasn’t Xavier’s fault that his body was the mortal form that my soul bound itself to after my scientific dabbling into black magic went awry. It was all random; I could’ve very well been slung into the form of an older disabled woman! I’ll never forget the first few hours I spent in my new body, which was 16 at that time. The hormone rush! The psychological stimulation! The sight remorse that my presence in this form locked the original soul into a deep sleep from which there is never an awakening. After spending hours masturbating in my athletic body, I made the old Xavier some promises to honour the gift fate had decided that he was destined to give me. I would always take care of his family, I would obtain superior education, wealth, and social status in his name. and I would have at least one biological child with the seed in this body. Though my spirit could personally care less about the final promise… I will honour that the original owner was privy to reproductive intercourse. “Dat shit cray tho,” I laugh internally.

But now, that last promise was the furthest away. I had to impress the recruiter. I started by doing 100 crunches, sit-ups, and push-ups. I was sweating. I am horny. Then, I head to the weights to do reps on my upper arms and chest. I look at my face in the mirror; I’m sweating. I notice my hair and how it’s lined-uped. I’ve always liked how Black boys could get razored haircuts like this. I like how when I go to Lorenzo’s shop he always makes me look fresh. I focus.

Yup. I reiterate my promises as I prepare for some intense 30 minute training before the crew gets here: “Wit me in dis body Imma go all da way. Harvard… medical school… researcher scholar… entrepreneur and world traveller all the while keepin physically fit. Xavier’s life with me in control is good; my life is good.