Friday morning. Wake up. Eat Pan de Sal and grab your allowance from your parents. Spend 8 hours in school and 2 more hours in extracurricular activities. Paulo hates it but he does it for the additional grades. A few more minutes of this mundane bullshit and he is out of here. The final toll of the bell rang and Paulo grabbed his bags and ran back home.
A few days ago, Paulo received a mysterious power that lets him transform into another person. It’s simple and cut. But the problem lies with his parents. What would their reaction be if they saw a naked stranger in their son’s room? His mother? She’d pick her slipper and hit the stranger until he was out of their house. His father would unsheathe the bolo (machete) his father gave to him and commit murder right then and there. Ever since Paulo got his powers, he kept it within closed doors and for only brief moments.
But today, of all days, is a blessing.
“Always lock the doors to prevent snatchers from robbing our place,”
“As if there’s anything to rob, ma.”
“I’m just saying. Check the sockets. If you’re not using the TV, pull the plug out. Our electricity bill is so expensive.”
Paul had to practically push her mother out of the door so his parents could leave. They won a raffle you see. A two-week round cruise around the island of Palawan all thanks to winning a raffle promo. They left food and money that would last Paulo and the entire month.
With that, his parents are gone.
Paulo closed the doors and shut the curtains of their quaint ancestral home. He went upstairs, his feet making creaks on the ancient mahogany wood. In the place where he is most private, he looked at his naked body in front of the mirror and then closed his eyes.
Paulo thought of man. A famous man. He bet that if he showed his picture to a stranger, they’d immediately recognize who he is. This fame made it easy to picture his visage. And from that image, he opened his eyes to see his dreams become a reality.
The first change was his skin. It’s a shame really. Two Western powers colonized the Philippines in the past. Their presence changed the natural standards of beauty of the country. Paulo’s skin is brown. The color of the clay. The common man, Filipino born and proud. But this color carries a bearing connotation to his fellow countrymen. It is rightly so that it is the color of the common man, but the common man is poor. Dark skin is attributed to working in the fields. Those who need to make an effort just to keep an honest living. Paulo hated his peers whenever they bore this thought or whenever he saw a whitening soap commercial.
In a way, this upcoming change is making Paulo a bit guilty. He is dipping his toes in the colonial standard of beauty that he despises so much.
Paulo’s skin washed a lighter tone. In the voice of his peers, this is the color of privilege. A light skin tone means you have the money to buy whitening soaps and keep yourself comfortable out of the harsh rays of the sun. It is the color of the cream of the crop. The rich and famous alike. His childhood scars disappeared as if they weren’t there in the first place. The skin of his hands turned delicate and smooth.
The actor he thought of didn’t differ much in height. Paulo is somewhat bummed because he looked taller whenever he saw him in the noon-time television shows. But as his biceps and femoris bulged and his abdominals constrict and bulk, the problem about the height was pushed in the back of his mind. Paulo lost his hair, then a new one appeared in its place. This one is combed and kept smooth. Smelled like men’s shampoo too.
The changes ended and the reflection smiled back at him. He grinned deeper until a striking dimple appeared on his cheek. This actor is never complete without that dimple.
“Alden Abrenica,” The voice of a stranger he now calls his own came in whispers.
In a weird kind of way, it feels refreshing to see Alden’s naked body in front of the mirror. It’s like he was relieved of a curious itch. His dick is now certainly bigger and devoid of pubic hair. It’s cute. Paulo groped his dick, feeling the sheer absurdity of the fact that he is now holding the dick of a famous celebrity in his hands. Few could only dream of seeing this, let alone touching this national treasure.
Paulo sat back on his bed, now creaking louder with his heavier weight. One of his hands explored the inches of his skin, nibbled on his pink nipple exemplified by his milky tone. The other hand cooed on his penis, gently stroking it until he felt decadent pleasures. His mind marches at the stroke of his cock. Straight thoughts are nothing but a dream. His heart beats deep. His cum explodes in million spurts and one. One moan filled the air followed by smaller cooes. Cum splattered on the floor, dripping in the niche between floorboards.
Paulo looked at the mirror.
“Fuck! I look cute,” Paulo whispered.