DNA Conversion

DNA CONVERSION

Twitter is awesome for tracking people. Take my neighbor for example. He's just broadcast to the world that he's away for the week. I sort of figured it out when I saw him loading up gear in his buddy's Jeep this morning. His name is Paul, an aspiring actor, model, producer and writer of some notoriety. I've been watching him for months now – out in the pool, riding his motorcycle, washing his Camaro in the driveway. Now seems like the perfect time to put my little scheme into action.

Months ago, I heard of a drug on the dark web that changes your DNA and allows you to assume the identity of another person. You combine the drug with a DNA sample of the person you want to become and it turns you into an identical copy of them. I decided to take a chance to change a 30 year old nerd to a 30 year old stud. You need latest DNA from that person because it provides the latest version of them down to the tiniest detail. For example, if Paul nicked himself shaving this morning before leaving, I should have the same cut on my chin. Also, his personality traits are captured within his DNA. The best part – his personal knowledge is transferred via the DNA resequencing process. You become an exact duplicate of him up to the millisecond he lost a strand of hair, shot a load in his shorts or blew his nose into a tissue. The key will be finding the most recent DNA in his condo.

A while back, I saw a friend of Paul's searching for something on his front porch. I saw him move a paver, pick up something and then enter his place. It must have been a spare key. Hopefully the key is back in the same place or I'm dead in the water with my plan. About 10pm when half the neighbors have left for the bars, I casually walk over to his place, find the key as expected and enter his condo. It's laid out similar to mine and I easily find his master bedroom and bath at the top of the stairs. I start going through his bathroom and find his hair brush on the counter. That's a start but I keep looking, heading to his hamper picking up a pair of his underwear from the top of it. There are quite a few pubic hairs in them and he probably wore them yesterday. The pubes are probably the best place to start as his hair brush could have month old DNA in it. I take the vial of purple liquid from my pocket, select a pube from the underwear, add it to the vial, shake and let it sit for 15 minutes. The pube starts to fizz and something is happening.

According to the instruction, once I swallow it, I'll pass out for 3-4 hours, waking up as Paul but very sore from my whole body morphing. The vial has changed from a purple to a dark blue, denoting male DNA, so that's a good sign. 'Here goes nothing' I think as I swallow it quickly. It's almost like I'm high, as I'm getting very tired, then pass out.

I'm dreaming the weirdest dreams of Paul, his life, his memories? It all seems surreal to me. When I wake up, I feel like I've been put through a meat grinder – every inch of me is aching in pain. Slowly I steady myself and sit up in Paul's bed. That's when I realized it worked! I see six pack abs and tattoos on my arms. I jump out of bed, forgetting the pain and run into the bathroom mirror. Standing there is Paul Vandervort – actor, model, producer, writer. I smile, he smiles. I'm gorgeous! My body is perfect, my hair needs some attention but my smile has his signature dimples. I try a few expressions like pouting, smile, laughing, serious and angry.

I confidently say. "Hi, I'm Paul Vandervort, you might have seen some of my work." Sounding just like him, not even his parents would notice a difference.

My mind is racing a million miles per second as information is processed about my camping trip with my brother Jonathan and the excitement of getting away for a week. Jonathan flew in yesterday, rented a Jeep and crashed with 'me' last night. Then a memory of a premiere I'm missing with my fuck buddy Mark. It's an incredible rush of information and feelings. His favorite foods, what he likes to wear, his workout routine, all his friends, his business, his early modeling career with Abercrombie and Fitch. I know everything about his life up until he stepped out of his underwear to take a shower this morning. The pube was the right choice. I grab some aspirin from the medicine cabinet and pop four of them for the pain. I instinctively look at the clock and see it's only 1am. Most importantly, I now know he's not coming back till the following Sunday.