Shedding (Patreon)

The sensation was unmistakable and I immediately felt dread. I knew it would happen this year, but somehow I didn't want to acknowledge it to myself. The change follows a Fibonacci sequence. First time I transformed was at 14. Then again at 15. Then at 16. It really trashes your social life and any academic prospect you might have. You learn to quickly fit in and create superficial bonds. All the bodies had been great. Good looking in different ways. Always athletic. But one day you are liked, accepted, established, and the next you are an undocumented nobody. Then I changed at 18. Fuck, that was a hard one. Smoking hot, perhaps best-looking body so far, but the first non-Caucasian. Not some Mediterranean tan either, but pitch black Nigerian descent. Then at 21 a tall, blonde surfer body. That was almost as hard, as I couldn't do the transfer student routine anymore. I'd prepared Leeroy that I would change during the year, but I don't think he really believed me. He was friendly after the change, but it was never the same. I could slide right into the surfer crew down at the beach though, and had been there ever since.

But now that was at an end, after five years. I'd hoped to be somewhere private when it happened. Even when in school I'd managed to find some spot alone, but here on the beach it would be too far to any place to hide. "It's happening," I said to Mark, looking scared. "What is?" He was applying a new coat of sunscreen. "The transformation." I'd confided in Mark, and I think he'd accepted my tale of altering bodies. But then he'd probably accept anything, given the amount of drugs he was on between waves.

At least there wasn't anything restrictive on me. White speedos, black snapback, watch and bracelet. This wasn't going to be 15 all over again. I could feel the tingling sensation all over as my sunkissed surfer body darkened a few shades more. "Dude! It's fucking awesome." Mark shouted, drawing more attention to us, something I desperately wanted to avoid. The few people in earshot only glanced briefly before going back to ignoring us. The next body would be important. I had really liked this one, being a surfer from 21 to 26. But this next one would last until my mid-thirties. Then like two more after that. One at 102 if I ever managed to live that long. Perhaps I got rid of all cancer and shit every time I changed body, then that could happen. Still, there weren't that many bodies left.

I could feel it in my chest and thighs at the same time. Like a pressure squeezing my body out from within. Didn't look like I would get much of a height difference this time. I could feel my shoulders moving as my chest expanded. The bone structure shifted slightly and the muscles in my arms screamed in agony, as if I was just doing the most intense workout ever. I could see my arm tattoo slightly deform as my arm inflated. The pressure in my thighs had spread, both down my legs, but more so up into my butt. I was sore all over, and panting. Being on my back was unbearable, so I flipped over on all four like a dog.

"Fuck! Dude! Fuck!" Mark commented unhelpfully. It spread from the chest up into my face and down the torso. I imagined my lean six-pack abs were disappearing as my belly reformed into something stronger but less aesthetic. I just couldn't watch. My face hurt too much, but also because I was losing me yet again. The muscle contractions in my abdomen made me want to throw up and whatever was happening with my legs and ass wasn't done yet. I could feel the speedos were close to snapping, my entire body had broken out in a sweat, and I was dry heaving while staring into the sand under me with unfocused eyes. 

Then the transformation came to a stop. I still stared into the sand, feeling sore, spent, sweaty, and disgusting. "Dude! You must let me see you catch a wave in that." That was about the last thing I wanted to do. I wanted to crawl into the trailer and sleep. Or at least have a shower and assess the damage. "Later man," I said and flashed a shaka sign. 8 fucking years like this.