#Shawn Mendes Wonder | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

celebtf · 15 days

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THE SHAWN REPLACEMENT

Shawn Mendes stepped out of the car, adjusting his jacket as his manager waved from the driver's seat. "Good luck in there, man. We’ll head straight to the meet and greet after."

“Yeah, thanks,” Shawn replied, his voice carrying the weariness of endless interviews, meet and greets, and concerts. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the tension built up from weeks on the road. He didn’t have much time to think about it, though. He had to be on point for the interview. Another day, another routine.

Shawn entered the sleek glass doors of the building, the cool air inside washing over him. He checked his phone for the time: 3:30 PM. The meet and greet was in a couple of hours, followed by the concert. Just a quick interview, then back to the craziness.

He hit the elevator button, glanced around the empty lobby, and waited. When the doors slid open, he stepped inside and pressed the button for the fifth floor. The hum of the elevator filled the silence as he leaned against the wall, his mind drifting to the setlist for the concert. It was going to be a long night.

The doors opened, and he stepped out into a modern, minimalist office space. A young man stood waiting for him—a tall, blond guy with stubble and an easy smile. “Shawn, hey! I’m Derek,” he said, extending his hand.

Shawn shook it. “Hey, Derek. Thanks for having me.”

“Of course. Let’s get you set up,” Derek said, leading him down a hallway. The office was quiet, with only the hum of air conditioning and the occasional click of a keyboard from unseen rooms.

Derek opened a door and gestured for Shawn to enter. Inside was a small, sterile room with a chair in the middle and a camera on a tripod in front of it. Shawn took a seat as Derek shut the door behind them, the soft click of the lock barely registering in Shawn’s mind.

“Alright, let’s get you mic’d up,” Derek said, walking over with a microphone pack in hand. He clipped the mic to Shawn’s shirt, his fingers brushing the fabric as he adjusted the wire. Shawn barely noticed; his thoughts were already drifting to the evening ahead.

But then, something changed. Derek’s movements became slower, more deliberate. Shawn felt a coldness in the air. Derek stepped behind him, and before Shawn could react, he felt something tightening around his wrists.

“What the hell—” Shawn started, twisting in his seat, but it was too late. Derek had tied his hands together with a zip tie.

Shawn's heart pounded in his chest. “What are you doing?” he demanded, panic rising in his throat.

Derek didn’t respond. He calmly walked in front of Shawn, pulling a strange device from his pocket. It looked like a gun, but with a metallic sheen and wires that pulsed with a faint red light. Shawn blinked, his mind reeling as Derek inspected the device, turning a dial on the side.

Derek smirked as he lifted the device, his eyes gleaming with cruel intent. “I’ll explain it, Shawn, don’t worry,” he said in a voice that dripped with mockery.

Derek aimed the device at Shawn first, his finger squeezing the trigger as the machine came to life with a low, ominous hum. A beam of red light shot out, beginning at Shawn’s feet and rising slowly up his body, scanning him like a digital copy was being made.

The light lingered as it climbed, inch by inch. Shawn felt its heat as it passed over his legs, his torso, and finally up to his face. It wasn’t painful, but it was invasive, like the machine was stripping away every secret his body held.

Shawn watched helplessly, feeling like an animal caught in a trap, as the red light scanned every inch of him. His skin tingled as it moved up his neck and over his face, his muscles tightening as if it resisting the scan.

The beam finally disappeared, leaving Shawn panting slightly from the strange, disorienting experience. But Derek’s eyes glinted with satisfaction.

“Perfect,” Derek said softly, admiring the device’s display, which now contained all of Shawn’s data. “I needed to make sure I get every detail.”

Shawn's stomach twisted as Derek turned the dial on the device, preparing for the next phase. “Now for my part.”

Derek turned the gun toward himself and squeezed the trigger. This time, the beam of light washed over Derek’s body, starting at his feet. As it climbed, Shawn’s confusion morphed into horror. It wasn’t just a scan—it was *changing* him. Derek’s muscles twitched and rippled beneath his skin. His stubbled jawline softened, the rough patches of hair thinning out as his face began to smooth, becoming more youthful, became flawless—perfect

Shawn’s eyes widened as Derek’s hair began to darken, strands of blond morphing into deep brown. His posture shifted, his shoulders rounding in the exact way Shawn’s did when he performed on stage. It was an haunting sight—like watching a wax sculpture slowly melt into a new shape.

Derek flexed his fingers as the light scanned them, watching with satisfaction as his hands became more slender, the veins and muscles rearranging themselves. His fingernails rounded out, his knuckles losing the roughness they once had.

The transformation was disturbingly precise. Shawn could only watch as Derek’s eyes—previously a piercing blue—turned a warm, familiar brown. Every detail, down to the freckles scattered across Shawn’s nose, appeared on Derek’s face. His cheekbones shifted, and the lines of his jaw rounded until they matched Shawn’s exactly. Even his height adjusted, shrinking subtly to match Shawn’s leaner frame.

The last part of the scan settled on Derek’s voice, and when he finally spoke again, it wasn’t *Derek’s* voice anymore.

“Not bad, right?” Derek asked, his voice now a perfect match for Shawn’s—smooth, deep, and resonant. He grinned, testing the new sound, rolling his shoulders as if he was settling into a new suit. “I’ve got to admit, this feels *incredible.*”

Shawn’s stomach churned as Derek stood before him, now indistinguishable from himself. The sheer wrongness of seeing his own face looking back at him, sent a shudder down his spine.

Derek wasn’t finished yet. He glanced down at the device, turning the dial again. “Now it’s your turn.”

Before Shawn could even comprehend what was happening, Derek pointed the device at him and pulled the trigger. The red light hit Shawn with an overwhelming force, flooding him with a burning heat that made him gasp. It felt as if every inch of his skin was on fire, tingling with a sensation that was both excruciating and numbing at the same time.

Shawn felt his bones shift first, a sickening crackling noise accompanying the reshaping of his skeleton. His tall, lanky frame began to compress, muscles tightening in all the wrong places. His shoulders broadened, growing heavier than they had ever felt. His legs shortened, and his body seemed to thicken, growing bulkier in ways that felt foreign and monstrous.

His hands, which had always been delicate from years of playing guitar, grew rougher. The skin stretched over his knuckles, becoming hard. His fingers, once precise, felt clumsy and awkward as they thickened.

He looked down in horror as his legs bulked up, the lean, athletic build he had known for so long vanishing. His knees felt stiff, and his feet ached as his shoes grew too tight. Everything about his body felt *wrong*.

As the light reached his face, the changes became unbearable. His skin tightened, the soft youthfulness draining away as wrinkles formed around his mouth and forehead. His nose sharpened, his jawline became more angular, and his cheekbones seemed to protrude unnaturally. His hair, once a rich brown, turned lighter, fading to a pale blond as it thinned.

Shawn looked into the reflection of the nearby window and saw *Derek* staring back at him. His own eyes had turned cold and blue, devoid of the warmth they once held. His entire face—once so familiar—was gone. He was now trapped in Derek’s body, his identity stolen, his entire existence erased.

The real Derek—now fully transformed into Shawn—let out a slow, cruel laugh. “It suits you,” he said, his voice a perfect match for Shawn’s. “How does it feel?”

Shawn, still panting from the shock of the transformation, tried to form words, but his mouth—now twisted into Derek’s cruel grin—couldn’t produce anything coherent. He was paralyzed by the sheer horror of it.

Derek leaned down, staring directly into Shawn’s new blue eyes, his grin widening. “You should have seen this coming,” he whispered, his tone filled with sadistic delight. “After all, who wouldn’t want to be Shawn Mendes? The fame, the fans, the life..."

Derek stood back, slipping into Shawn’s leather jacket as if it had always belonged to him. He moved with an ease that made it seem like he had always been Shawn—the way he ran his fingers through his hair, the casual way he glanced at his phone, all of it naturally.

The real Shawn—now trapped in Derek’s body—could only watch in silence as The new Shawn casually dialed his manager. “Hey, I’m done with the interview,” Derek said, his voice chilling in its perfection. “Come pick me up.”

He hung up the phone and turned back to Shawn, a cruel smile stretching across his new face. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of your life. "

Without another word, Derek—now Shawn—walked out the door, leaving the real Shawn behind, trapped in a body that wasn’t his, with a life that no longer belonged to him.

The meet and greet went perfectly, almost too perfectly. As Derek—now completely transformed into Shawn Mendes—walked into the event, a wave of excitement rippled through the room. Fans gasped and screamed, their phones flashing like strobe lights as they tried to capture every moment. The energy was electric, and Derek soaked it in, his expression the perfect blend of humility and charm. He moved with effortless confidence, just like Shawn, giving warm smiles and that signature wave that made the crowd roar even louder.

One by one, fans stepped forward, eagerly awaiting their chance to meet “Shawn.” Derek wrapped his arms around them in familiar embraces, his movements smooth, affectionate, and practiced. His hands didn’t tremble as he hugged them, he posed for selfies, flashing Shawn’s trademark grin. He even joked with the fans, throwing out Shawn’s typical playful banter, causing a chorus of laughter and adoration.

Some fans wiped away tears of joy as they leaned into him, trembling in disbelief that they were touching the man they idolized. “Thank you for everything,” one whispered as she hugged him tightly.

“My pleasure,” Derek responded, his voice soft and sincere—exactly the way Shawn would’ve said it. No one suspected a thing.

He studied every expression, every reaction from the fans, feeding off their admiration. It wasn’t just about fooling them—it was about being adored, about living in this intoxicating world of celebrity that had once belonged to someone else.

Derek took extra care with each fan, ensuring no moment felt rushed. To them, this was a once-in-a-lifetime chance, and he wanted to ensure that *their* Shawn Mendes was everything they hoped for. He answered questions, made eye contact, signed autographs with a flourish. To those fans, this was the real Shawn, and Derek reveled in their adoration.

When it was finally time for the concert, Derek stepped onto the stage like he had done it a thousand times. The roar of the crowd was deafening, the sea of faces illuminated by flashing lights and glowing phone screens. His heart raced—not from fear, but from the sheer thrill of it. This was *his* moment now. He owned this stage, this crowd, this life.

The band kicked in, the music filling the arena, and Derek launched into the first song without missing a beat. His voice, now identical to Shawn’s, hit every note perfectly. His movements mirrored Shawn’s signature style—effortlessly smooth, the way he strummed the guitar, the way he leaned into the microphone stand during quieter moments, the little twirls and gestures that drove the fans wild.

As the set progressed, Derek found himself growing bolder, more comfortable in this stolen skin. He interacted with the audience just like Shawn would, smiling down at them, giving them the heartfelt, emotional moments they craved. “You guys are amazing,” he called out between songs, his voice dripping with the sincerity that Shawn was known for. “I wouldn’t be here without you.”

The crowd erupted, hanging on his every word, believing without question that the man on stage was their beloved Shawn Mendes.

With every song, every cheer, Derek felt the power of Shawn’s life flowing through him. He had perfected every move, every look, every smile. By the time the concert was over, the crowd was in a frenzy, chanting Shawn’s name over and over.

As he stood at the edge of the stage, gazing out over the crowd, Derek let the moment wash over him. The cheers, the love, the undying devotion—he had done it. He had truly become Shawn Mendes.

And the real Shawn, now trapped in Derek’s body, was out there somewhere, forgotten and powerless.

Derek raised his hand for one final wave, basking in the euphoria of the crowd’s roaring adulation. He had succeeded.