The genie told me this shapeshifting thing would be cool and it is. There’s one problem: I can only shapeshift into famous MALE actors. This is fun sometimes, but it can be a problem, too.
You see, I’m a woman.
The first time I tried shifting my shape was back in the 80’s, right after I saw Field of Dreams. I was SO in love with Kevin Kostner that I figured if I couldn’t have him (which I couldn’t because he was nowhere near me, and he was already taken) I could at least take on his shape. That way, I could look in my mirror and see him looking back at me.
You have apparently never been a woman with a serious movie star crush, or you would not be looking at me like that.
Fortunately, I waited until I was two blocks from the theater to take on Kevin’s shape. A friend of mine morphed himself into Ray Liotta right there in the multiplex lobby, and he was mobbed by a bunch of female autograph seekers who charged after him in a Dionysian frenzy. They chased him for two blocks until the police caught up with them and made them all go home. My friend gave both of the cops a Ray Liotta autograph. They were thrilled.
I was wearing a big safari hat that I could pull down over Kevin’s face, so nobody recognized him … me … him … whatever. The first inkling of a problem was when I had to pee. To save the feelings of the squeamish and the prudish among you readers, I won’t go into any detail about this. I’ll just say that it was a different kind of experience than that to which I was accustomed, and leave it at that.
It was scary to be missing my bazooms, but I knew I would get them back when I went back to being myself. In the meantime, I rather enjoyed the feeling of power my newly acquired biceps gave me. I never knew how good it could feel to punch my left palm with my right fist. I kept that up until my left hand became numb and I couldn’t bend the fingers on it. It wasn’t the dumbest thing to do, but it wasn’t bright, either. I was becoming too masculine too fast.
When I got home, I headed to the bathroom and gazed at Kevin’s face in the mirror. I tried to talk romantically to it, but the words came out in his voice, not mine, and the whole effect was spoiled. I tried talking dirty, but that was only marginally better.
With a sigh of love and disappointment, I went back to being me.
Inspired by a prompt posted on the Writing Prompts Group page on Facebook on June 2, 2018, by Evan Gow:
You’re a shapeshifter, but you can only shapeshift into famous actors.