Tripping over his own exposed feet, Max spun around, seeking some way to wake up or rationalize what was going on. Looking down he nearly vomited at the ghastly site of a large pool of blood, his own, or rather the blood of his old self. In the reflection of the blood he was able to see the extent of the changes, seeing Luke’s face staring back at him scared. It was so horrifying his mind swam and his sight grew blurry. He dropped to his knees, everything was so white. As far as he could see just empty space save the pool of blood beneath him. Raising his head he saw Luke again, glaring down at him. But they were not alone. Rising to his feet Max saw himself surrounded by shades of Luke all with blood lust in their eyes and wolfish grins on their faces. The white space around them shimmered with the emptiness of infinity as all at once a dozen shadows raised their fists in fighting stances.
“You aren’t me yet” echoed a dozen voices in Max’s head. “But you will be.” Arms seized him from behind and a Luke ran towards him, crimson plumes in his wake, throwing his momentum into a lunging punch that dug deep into Max’s chest. Max screamed as he felt the fingers enter him, scenes bloomed around him. Images projected themselves in the shrouding white nothing. Visions of his own past, by himself alone, watching Luke from afar. Adoration and envy. As the agony intensified the scenes around him changed, replaced with Max pounding a punching bag. More people entered the picture, friends he couldn’t remember. People he trained with, fought with, celebrated with. Nights alone crying in bed shifted into scenes of him at parties, the proud champion. The floating screens showing him drinking with his bros, fighting with random people when he drank too much. He couldn’t help it, it was in his blood, all the anger and adrenaline keeping him alive as he rolled around with them in the dirt. He loved showing off and proving his strength.
He screamed anew as flashes of him jerking off at his computer began to appear. All his desperation and solidarity vented into the palm of his hand, accepting it would always be that way. But his eyes rolled back in pleasure as his mind swam with new memories being painted around him and in him, arousing him. In place of his computer he was with various girls, mostly older. He knew all the moves just like the fights, he heard their moans, heard them call out his -no Luke’s!- name. Each mental thrust, washing away the sadness with elation. His latest conquest… Sarah, he could see and feel himself on top of her, like a pro… like a beast. His eyes blank with pure, animal pleasure. Part of him was scared of himself as the vision became more realistic, became a part of him. Her angelic voice calling out Luke was soon all he could hear. It was impossible to separate the memory from reality, he felt himself stiffen as if he was actually living it, the scenes flickering to the rhythm of his thrusts as he smiled dumbly for a moment before snapping out of it.
As the last scenes of him alone vanished, so did the memories, erased from his mind. The edges of his mouth twitched and he gave a slight grin at the ‘new’ memories all around him. His hands instinctively rose to his temples, as fists, just as he remembered being taught… Days of conditioning filling his recollections, the pain sweeter now with the taste of reward. He felt a confidence surging through him, a strength he couldn’t believe he had lived without. His overall stance relaxed, emphasizing the laid back side of him rapidly emerging. Fear and weakness evaporating, a cockiness was overcoming him. The shadow before him faded out, and the pain in his chest dulled but didn’t cease as he still struggled to breath.
Now Max struggled against the hands that held him. They released him but shoved their hands against his head, holding tight before their hands sunk inside. No images appeared, but words instead, in a vaguely familiar hand they wrote themselves and spiraled about the arena. Max realized they were his thoughts, how he felt, all he knew. They moved faster, and faster until it made him dizzy trying to follow but he grasped out vainly trying to hold on. Words were crossed out, one by one, entire subjects vanishing. Two years worth of high school gone, and his IQ far from all it was before. All those clever words as if they had never been known. Study sessions replaced with training sessions. The handwriting became less neat, words were replaced, exchanged, misspelled. Hall conversations he had never been able to follow made perfect sense now as the dialect of his peers became his native tongue, now accustomed to the slang. Oddly he felt only relief, glad the extra intelligence was gone.
Stripped of the smarts that held him back and slowly assimilating the abilities that made Luke a champion Max faced the remaining Lukes. He was grinning broadly now, almost exactly the same grin as those around him. With every blow, it was if they struck his very soul, knocking the last vestiges of Max out of him. He felt the rage and arrogance blossom within him as more and more shades dispersed in their suicide attacks. Dying to stay alive inside him. Max barely noticed as the tattered fabric around his large feet began to reform, fitting around the flesh and becoming black ankle socks. Pads forming beneath the socks, raising him up as a single black stripe crossed over his each foot, a white check mark appearing and completing the slides. He heard them splash through the blood, but paid them no attention as he lashed out at more shades, almost dancing now as each punch was faster than the last, each kick a little better, a little more balanced. Another roundhouse kick phased through his ruined shirt as the material sealed itself up and became lighter. The damage repaired itself as the shirt shrank somewhat to hold Max’s muscles tighter, forming closer around his skin. The colors and designs all became pure white as the sleeves shank away to show off his arms, a new muscle shirt. Max continued on, enjoying the new mobility as a cutting kick seemed to slash through the extra length of his jeans, shortening them. What was left billowed around his legs, just past his knees. They became steadily baggier, flowing with his motions so as not to hinder him and showing off his athletic legs from all the running he did for his endurance. The colors deepened into a uniform jet black as the material became lighter, a pair of work out pants. Soon Max found himself clothed in these disdained clothes… Luke’s swag he remembered, but now his. A moment of confliction, eased as he accepted and loved dressing like this.
Soon only one Luke remained and the two circled each other, all the rage gone now as Max was lost to the thrill of the fight. Drinking in the adrenaline and brought to life by the sweat and blood. Punch met block, kick met check as the two held no power over the other.
“How’s it feel being me?” Max was stopped by the comment, allowing Luke to land a swift punch to his ribs, causing him to double over.
“Fuck dawg I ain’t nothing like you!” Max couldn’t believe what he was saying anymore than he could control it, the words felt so right, so familiar yet some small nagging voice still protested. Part of him recoiled at his first time cursing though he knew he had done it countless times before. Luke spun behind max and kicked him the back, stumbling him.
“You do look pretty raw bro, fight well too” Luke taunted taking the opportunity to land another quick jab to Max’s head.
“Hell yeah I’m raw bro… I’m a total beast” Max roared as he hooked his leg around Luke’s guard, knocking him aside the head. The scenes displaying Max’s memories started swirling faster, now showing Luke living those memories but to Max there was hardly a difference anymore. While Luke shook it off, Max groped his junk and grinned. “All the bitches know it too, should see the fine ass I got last night bro. ” Luke just nodded, satisfaction evident on his face.
“I know dawg, you’re done. Peace Max” he said before vanishing. Luke looked confused, who the fuck was Max? But before he could give it much thought everything went dark before he found himself in an old alley facing a dead end. He checked himself over, everything was fine. Checking himself out in a pool of water, he wasn’t surprised to see his hot self looking back. Oblivious to the fight he just lost and won, or the life he left behind he swaggered out of the alley… The past was gone.