Chapter 3: Rising Action
Harold se había acostumbrado al olor a incienso quemado ya la voz rasposa de Morgana la bruja. Todos los miércoles se escapaba de la escuela, después de su última clase, y se dirigía a su destartalada casa en las afueras de la ciudad. Nadie sabía qué hacía allí, ya él le gustaba así. Les dijo a sus padres autoritarios que iba a asistir a un club extraescolar y pasó el día con Morgana, tratando de aprender magia... y tal vez, solo tal vez, el único hechizo que esperaba que cambiara su vida.
Siempre había sido el blanco de las bromas de todos. El que se dejaba llevar y se burlaba de todos. Había intentado encajar, pero no había servido de nada. Era demasiado diferente, demasiado nerd, demasiado raro.
Morgana era la única que lo veía por él, la que lo ayudaba a escapar del infierno que era la escuela secundaria. Ella sabía sobre el acoso, los insultos y las bromas crueles. Incluso había presenciado algunos de ellos de primera mano. Pero cada vez que Harold salía de su casa, se sentía un poco mejor, un poco más poderoso, un poco más esperanzado.
Estaba convencido de que un día ella lanzaría un hechizo que arreglaría todo, un hechizo que lo haría fuerte, seguro y deseable.
Y así, allí estaba él, sentado en el altar de Morgana, observándola mientras ella hojeaba las páginas de un antiguo tomo, murmurando encantamientos y mezclando frascos de pociones.
—Extiende tu mano —ordenó, con la voz ronca por años de cantar hechizos.
Harold obedeció y ella colocó una pequeña pastilla azul en el centro de su palma. "Toma esto.
Te dará el poder de hacer realidad tus deseos más profundos, al menos por esta noche".
Harold la miró sorprendido. Nunca había visto esa pastilla antes.
"Es un hechizo temporal, Harold. Tómalo y no hagas preguntas".
Dudó un momento, pero luego se encogió de hombros y se metió la pastilla en la boca. Casi de inmediato, sintió un calor extraño que se extendía por todo su cuerpo.
—Ahora, ve a dormir —dijo Morgana, y su voz adquirió un tono tranquilizador.
Harold nodded and closed his eyes, feeling the warmth spreading through his body like a comfortable embrace. He felt a sense of peace wash over him, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
But soon, the warmth turned into something else—something intense and overwhelming. He felt himself tugged into a realm of lucid dreams, where he found himself standing before Morgana's altar once more, but this time, she was gone.
Before him stood Derek, the figure he both loved to hate and hated to love.
Arrogant, vain, and cruel, he was the epitome of everything that Harold despised—and yet, he couldn't help but be drawn to the muscular jock.
But suddenly, Harold realized that something was terribly wrong. The intense warmth he had felt all over his body was now centered in his groin, and it was a feeling he knew all too well. Before he could react, his hand was moving on its own accord—down his chest, across his flat stomach, and into his pants.
He could feel himself growing hard, something he had never experienced before in his skinny, awkward body. His mind raced with a mixture of shock and pleasure as he realized that he was aroused, feeling a strange exhilaration at the thought of being inside Derek's body, experiencing life from a perspective that had once eluded him. "No, no, this can't be happening," Harold muttered to himself, but his hand didn't stop, moving with a life of its own as he explored his newfound form.
He felt the muscles of Derek's chest, rippling and hard beneath his fingers, and he marveled at the sensation, feeling powerful and invincible for the first time in his life.
Suddenly, he noticed something strange about himself - his own body was changing too. The hairs on his arms stood on end, and a tingling sensation spread throughout his limbs. Confused, Harold looked down, and his heart stopped when he saw that Derek's abs had morphed into his own - soft and pudgy, just as they'd always been.
But as he gazed at his reflection, something else unexpected happened. He felt a strange thrill run through him, and his pants started to feel tight around his new, thicker waistline.
"Wait a goddamn minute," he muttered to himself, a flush of anger spreading across his face.
Harold had jumped the gun. It wasn't supposed to be so immediate. It was after midnight and he was supposed to have all night to enjoy his new body while Derek slept soundly.
But here he was, towering over his reflection, looking down at this alien form that he never thought he could possess. It was strange, not just the physical changes, but the audacity, the goddamn balls of the bully he had spent years avoiding.
He hated this. He hated the way Derek treated him, the way he walked with a swagger, the self-absorbed look on his face, the way he laughed at his expense.
But as Harold stood there, staring down at his reflection, he also couldn't help but feel a strange sense of power.
"Goddammit," he muttered, running his hands through his thick, curly hair. He had never looked like this before, never felt so alive and so confident. He thought back to all the times Derek had tormented him, pushed him, mocked him.
"I'll show you," he said aloud, his voice echoing in Morgana's dimly lit room.
He looked down at the muscular chest, feeling the defined muscles ripple beneath his touch. He had never felt so powerful, so confident before. It was like he could conquer the world with just one look, one smirk.
But as he continued to explore his new form, he realized that Derek's personality was just as much a part of the package as his physique. It was like the muscle-bound jerk was living rent-free inside his head, making him feel bold and arrogant one moment, and then petty and cruel the next.
Harold was disgusted with himself, but he found himself unable to resist the allure of his newfound strength and confidence.
He decided to take full advantage of it and make the most of this unanticipated transformation.
Harold-in-Derek's-body left Morgana's room, feeling the wind blowing through his now well-groomed hair. He could hear the distant sound of people laughing and music playing, echoing from a nearby party that he knew was happening at the popular quarterback's mansion.
It was an invitation that he'd never received, but now, as he strode towards the sound with renewed confidence, he knew he was welcome.
As he approached the mansion, he caught a glimpse of Derek's friends, their eyes widened in surprise at the sight before them. "Hey man, is that you?" One of them stammered, trying to process what they were seeing.
Harold-in-Derek's-body simply smirked, flexing his muscles for effect.
"Hey, what's goin' on? Thought I'd crash the party." It was a line he'd heard Derek say hundreds of times, and now he found himself uttering it with ease. The partygoers stared at Harold in disbelief, unable to comprehend the transformation that had occurred.
Harold strutted past them, headed straight for the bar. He ordered a drink, the bartender looking at him with a mix of confusion and awe. Harold couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at the attention he was receiving.