I found myself in a situation at a tender age, something I never wished for, especially not with the person involved. Despite knowing my preference for boys, my first encounter was with a much older woman, leaving me bewildered and disgusted with myself. The aftermath was a flood of tears and self-loathing that consumed me for days. Even though I felt drawn to female images, deep down, I knew that I was very much attracted to boys. It was as if an unseen force had seized control, trapping me in a complex world of conflicting emotions. This struggle within me manifested in that singular moment of weakness, leading me to commit a regrettable act just to satisfy my sexual desire —or its sexual desires: stealing from my own father.
My first time was on a school trip when I was 16. I was going with all of my friends. I had female friends but was mostly friends with guys. Yet, even in the midst of these friendships, I found myself engaging in intimate acts with almost all of the guys. This was mostly driven by a rebellion against the Voice that condemned such interactions. I noticed it hated me doing anything intimate with the opposite sex and would almost disappear whenever that happened leaving me in full control. Being that way with the guys made me the cheap slut, but worse was being called the cheap and confused whore who doesn't know if she wants to do boys or girls. The confusion within me manifested subtle behaviors noticed by observant eyes: how I held lingering gazes at the curves of other girls, and my all my dry attempts at flirtation. Despite the closeness I shared with my female friends, my own feelings remained tangled in a web of uncertainty. In a desperate bid to silence the weird things the voice made me long for, things like wanting girl, I resorted to a mantra, a weird mantra, which is repeatedly saying dick dick dick in my head, but for a while, it has not been working, hence the reason why I'm at this point, stealing to satisfy the voice's urge.
I'll finish the story of my first time, though . We were on a school trip and camping trip, and we were to attend a close-by carnival. It was supposed to be a fun summer trip and it kind of was for the most part of it.
As I and my friends enjoyed the adventure and excitement that the carnival brought, we stumbled upon a mysterious tent tucked away in a corner of the fairground. The tent gave off an aura of mystique, its entrance was adorned with shimmering fabrics and intricate patterns that seemed to dance in the gentle breeze. As we entered, the air was thick with the scent of incense, and the soft glow of candlelight cast flickering shadows upon the walls adorned with ancient symbols and celestial charts. It was creepy and we almost did not want to go, but we had to take up atleast one challenge that day, besides the scary roller coaster thingy that made me throw up.
Seated at the center of the tent was a woman unlike any I had ever seen before. Her eyes gleamed with an otherworldly intensity, and her hands traced invisible patterns in the air as if she could harness the very energy of the cosmos. She seemed like a witch to me. My mother would have never approved this, and I didn't know they did these kinds of stuff over here. Thought it was a "white" or "American" thing.
Her presence commanded attention, drawing I and my friends closer with an irresistible charm.
As my friends took turns having their fortunes read, I couldn't help but feel a sense of curiosity and a little bit of fear. This felt like juju. We shouldn't be here.
When it was finally my turn, the atmosphere seemed to shift, as if there was some form of spiritual evil beings joining us and I did not like it or feel good about it at all.
The horoscope reader's gaze locked onto mine with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine. Her words seemed to echo in my mind, resonating with a familiarity that both comforted and unsettled me. As she spoke, her voice took on an delicate quality, then it started to sound more echoey, like multiple voice were speaking at the same time and saying the exact same words, like the past, present, and future intertwined together blurring the lines between reality and myth. It weird that I would describe it like this but that was what it felt like. That woman was definitely a witch.
But it was when she mentioned my eyes that the true strangeness began. With a knowing look, she insisted that my eyes were a mesmerizing shade of grey, a statement that made be laugh louder than I wanted to at the time because that was stupid. After all, I have always known my eyes to be a deep, rich brown. She's probably a fraud I thought in my head.
As she drew closer, her touch sending a jolt of electricity through my veins, I felt myself succumbing to a strange feeling of surrender, almost like I had been holding off something for so long and in that moment every energy in me was drained out. It was as if a force beyond my understanding had taken hold, guiding my every movement and thought.
In that moment, as I felt the energy in me run dry and almost immediately it was as if I was possessed with something else, something more fiery and scary, I realized that the voice in my head was not my own, but something evil and dangerous, it was the voice, the voice that had been threading my every path, that manipulative evil voice that I had grown weak to and had to fight since my very existence, the voice that had long been dormant within my soul, it took over and I felt trapped.
As I was able to regain full authority and the horoscope reader asked me to return later, it was not me who answered the call, but the voice that spoke in my head, eager to dive deeper into the mysteries that awaited within the confines of that evil tent, the voice was fully in control of my body, not me.
I stepped out of the woman's tent, a shiver coursing down my spine, leaving me unsettled to the core. I despised the sensation, the feeling of losing control entirely, a foreign and terrifying experience. It lingered like a ghost, haunting my thoughts for hours afterward, casting a shadow over my every move.
My friends, with their faces filled with concern, bombarded me with questions about what the woman had predicted for my future. But I was rendered speechless, the words caught in my throat, suffocated by the weight of the unknown. All I could muster was a blank stare, my mind consumed by the realization that the woman had tapped into something beyond my comprehension.
The voice, it whispered all through the night that day, drowning out my own thoughts, asserting its dominance over my very being. It was a chilling reminder of my own weakness, a feeling I despised with every fiber in me.
I felt the urge to run away, to escape from the hold and bondage of this unseen force that threatened to mess with my sanity. Panic engulfed me, at that point I think I was actually close to the madness everyone talked about. All of that cannot be real right? I was on the edge, my world spinning out of control, consumed by the fear that I was losing myself to the hands of something far more dangerous.
Zimbabwe POV
In all my lives, no woman had ever complimented my eyes until now. Trapped once again in this small, weak body, I felt the weight of countless lifetimes bearing down on me. Imagine getting a second chance at life, only to end up stuck in another powerless body, in a wimp's body. I had to make a change.
As a boy named Zimbabwe, I lived a plain life in a pretty repeatitive and boring city. I did what I was told, got good grades, and became an accountant. But it never got me noticed. I couldn't even stand up for myself, even when I should have. People took advantage of me everywhere I went, and I felt like a loser each time.
I never even kissed a woman. They only saw me as a friend, someone to talk to about their bad relationships. It made me jealous and angry because it seemed like no one likes good people.
Then, one lonely day coming home from work, I died. A pole fell from a truck and ended my life. No one even noticed, just another forgotten soul.
But now, standing in front of the fortune teller's tent, her words echoing in my ears, I feel something stir inside me. I won't let myself be weak anymore. I'll break free from the cycle of mediocrity and make something of myself in this life.
At first, I didn't know I died. After the accident my first experience was waking up in a hospital room with bright light shining in my eyes, I made a sound that even I was unfamiliar with when I heard the sound. I wondered whose stupid baby was crying and thought about the annoyance of experiencing this and still going home to finish all the work projects I had. But swept with realization that the room felt unlike my room at home and that I was not supposed to be in here, knowing the familiar scenery of a hospital ward, and like a sudden gust of wind, fear swept over me as memories of the accident flooded my mind—the pole hurtling towards me, the deafening collision of metal.
Attempting to rise, I was met by the frantic rush of a young woman, her face etched with worry as she repeatedly pressed the room call button, tears streaming down her cheeks. Struggling to make myself heard, I tried to ask her who she was, but my voice seemed to evaporate into thin air before I succumbed to darkness once more.
I woke up again, but this time I could still see the hospital but with a dark hue. I didn't understand what was happening and tried to break off from the barrier, but it was too strong, I just couldn't. Their voices seemed far, and I could only hear a little.
Amidst the confusion, I watched as the woman's face lit up with joy, her tearful embrace of the doctor and her husband's grateful thanks adding to my bewilderment. Questions swirled in my mind—why couldn't I speak? Who were these people? Why was I here? And what of my responsibilities at work?
I could hear a voice talking over mine. It sounded like a child's, from my view I saw chubby arms reach out to the woman and her husband. I could see my view being lifted up and still did not comprehend what was happening. How is this tiny woman able to lift up a grown man like me?
I struggled to comprehend the surreal scene unfolding before me. My confusion turned to frustration as I demanded a mirror, I yelled out loud angrily, and almost like the baby could hear me, she put her hands over her eyes as she screamed. But I didn't stop. I kept yelling "mirror." She started crying and muttered "mirror" in her little voice.
With a mirror finally brought before me, I stared in disbelief at the reflection staring back—a face that was not my own, but that of a toddler, head bald with sickly eyes, I couldn't comprehend what was happeneing. Overwhelmed by the revelation, I succumbed once more to the comforting embrace of unconsciousness. That was a long blackout because I woke up 2 weeks later, still trapped in Malaika's body in her home.
As the horoscope lady held M's face, looking deep into my eyes, I knew she was talking to me. I had never felt like this in my life, and I really wanted her. I didn't really mean to make Malaika's life miserable. I wanted to have as much fun with her body, more like borrow her body to live a completely alternate life from the one I lived before, but she had her own goals making mine tough. So, this had now turned into a battle for me. I didn't care much about her anymore. It was weird hating on a teenager, but it felt like a second chance, an opportunity I was not going to leave behind. I really did not know how it happened, but I felt in control. I could feel the blood running through her veins. It felt warm. All these years of feeling ice-cold and only getting flickers of warmth when I made her touch herself, this time it was different. But as I was relishing the goodness of my new victory, it all came crashing down quickly. The barrier came with full force, pushing me deep inside, Malaika taking over again. But I could hear her heartbeat this time, really loud. It felt like torture. She was afraid, and I liked that. She really should be afraid of me!