Race Change Tf - Tumblr Posts
Season 3
Club Assimilation
Natasha and Kendra were best friends since they were little girls and they always loved sneaking around higher class events and parties. They were two black girls who loved causing a bit of mischief and getting away with it. They found themselves sneaking into a country club one night, giggling as they walked through the elegant halls, thinking they had outsmarted the security. However, little did they know that the owner of the club, a wealthy man named Mr. Jenkins, had seen them on the security cameras.
As they were sipping on champagne by the pool, thinking they had successfully pulled off their sneaky adventure, they were suddenly discovered by Mr. Jenkins. He was furious that they had managed to get past his security and exposed his club to any potential danger. In a fit of rage, he cursed them, not realizing the true power of his words.
Natasha and Kendra felt a strange sensation wash over them, starting from their heads down to their toes. Their once dark skin started to turn pale, their hair changing from luscious curls to short blonde hair. They both felt their bodies growing taller and more muscular, their clothes transforming into preppy button-down shirts and khaki shorts. Their voices deepened, their faces changing to embody the classic frat boy look.
Natasha found herself suddenly in the body of a young man, with broad shoulders and a strong jawline. She had become Leo, a white frat boy who had no memory of her previous life. Kendra now went by the name Chad, with a chiseled physique and a cocky attitude. With the sudden transformation, their minds were reset, and they both thought that they were the son of wealthy country club members.
They were completely oblivious to what had happened, but they both enjoyed their new identities. Leo and Chad quickly became popular among the club's members, with their charming personalities and their muscular physiques. Every day, they spent their time drinking and partying, living the high life as white frat bros.
Season 3
The New Bike = Killer Bod
Carrie got this new bike to workout on while she watched her shows. She never heard about this brand before, but with the price Carrie decided to buy it. Carrie got on the bike, and decided to start. She watched her shows, as she got into the workout.
Within minutes, her legs and arms began to thicken with muscle. Her skin was getting darker, as her hands and feet began to grow larger. She regripped the machine, as her body began to grow and thicken.
Her shoulders broadened, as her chest firmed and changed into pecs. Her skin continued to darken, as her hair receded and changed.
His voice thickened, as his body continued to fill out with muscle and mass. He found himself bored of his show, and turned on the game.
"Fuck yeah" Alan said, as his face began to shift and change. He took off his tight shirt and wiped off the sweat from his now fully changed face. His new cock formed between his legs, as the new man continued to work out on this bike almost in a trance.
Hey! Skinny white guy here wishing I was something more exciting!
I can sense you've been touched by the power of many transformations before, perhaps you are a master of transformation as well? Usually I'd be wary of using my power on those like you, in case it rebounded on me, but this request is too tempting to pass. Fine, I'll make you more interesting. You're sitting at home when to hear loud rock coming from outside. You open your front door to find yourself in a suburban neighborhood with a young South Asian man sitting on your doorstep with a speaker.
You want to ask him what he's doing here, but after noticing some angry glares from your neighbors, you think it's best to tell him to turn the music down first. "Turn it down?" He scoffs, "Man, you're the one always saying to turn it up. Listen to this!" He grabs you by the ear and pulls you closer to the speaker, as if standing across the street wouldn't still be a fine distance to hear the track. You curse when you feel a sharp pain where he grabbed your earlobe, but as the sound reverberates through your skull you find that pain turning to pleasure.
You nod your head to the booming drums as your ear lobes grow, craving more of that sound, then filling with large gauges. You tell him he's right, shit this good deserves to be played at max volume. "Hell yeah, especially when it speaks to taking down a broken system. That's what it's like for brown men in a white man's world." You're confused, is brown men referring to you too? You feel your body electrified like a guitar, your body warming up and your skin darkening in turn. Your hair stands on end until the blackened strands curl into a mess much like the man's, though you like your streaked red and sides shaved. You grin, looking at your fellow south asian with your deep brown eyes in newfound familiarity. You can't help but agree that there's nothing more punk than an immigrant.
After a few minutes of listening, your neighbor's annoyed stares become more obvious to both of you. "Man let's ditch these posers. Is it cool if I take this to Zayne's house?" You get excited, recognizing the name of another punk who lives a few blocks down. You agree, noting you're excited to listen there too. "What?" he chuckles, "no offense Man, but I don't think Zayne invites anyone your age to rock out." You wonder what he means by age before looking down at your arms, ever hairier than before. You think you're seeing things, adjusting your glasses out of habit without realizing you weren't wearing any before. Your facial scruff becoming a thick beard. Your clothes turning into a brown polo tucked into white khakis, baggy at first but stretched tighter as your time as a slim youth grows distant from years in a sedentary desk job. Your adjust your polo, trying to give your moobs more room while they jiggle along with your gut to the speaker. Despite your new clothes, you're still a punk in spirit, but a man needs to dress a certain way to work when he's got bills to pay.
you look at the man, now recognizing him as your son. You're a bit sad he keeps calling you "Man" instead of Dad, but a part of you swells with pride as a sign he's inherited some of the anti-authority spirit you grew up with. You sigh, allowing him to go rock out with his friend, but reminding him to come home before dinner and hoping you can jam with him after too.
"Ah kids" I say, stepping out of the house next to yours, looking like a typical suburban man "no matter how cool you are, they always choose their friends." You laugh deeply, clutching on to the bouncing polo that threatens to untuck from your khakis and reveal the furry carpet below. You say your son is probably just going through a rebellious phase. I laugh in kind, "With a rebel dad like you, I'm sure 'rebellious phase' is an understatement!" I'm unsure if you recognize me, or the request you made to me, but I am sure that this life is at the very least more exciting!