by 8Loki
He enters my anus.
It hurts. I feel torn apart. I try to block it off my senses, keep it distant.
A face enters my view. The other one licks my face.
I don’t look at him.
He slaps me.
I don’t look. So much pain, nothing matters anymore.
“Aaaaaahhh….” moans the one in my ass.
“See, it wasn’t that difficult!” says the one on top of my face.
“Fuck you buddy,” answers the other one.
“Alright, let’s get rid of the bitch.”
I feel moved around.
“Hey, wait! I’m still in her ass!”
“Get out!”
“Man, you are such a jerk. Alright, alright, I’m out.”
He slides off my anus. I feel some sperm dripping between my legs again.
The door is opened.
They drag me outside and toss me on the ground. I hit the pavement.
They throw my pants and panties on me, close the door and move to the front of the van.
“Don’t forget to buy the condoms next time.”
“Fuck you, I thought you had some left!”
I hear the doors closing. Motor turned on. The van leaves. I am in the dark. I do not have the energy to move. I wait.
I don’t know how much time I have spent on the ground. I manage to grab my panties and put them back on.
I stand up. My legs are shaky. I grab a nearby car to hold myself up. I am in an alley, not the main street. It takes me at least a few minutes before I can stand without touching the car.
My mind is still shut somewhere in my brain. My body moves as if controlled by someone else, automatically walking to find a way back home.
***
I have been in the shower for an hour and I still don’t get the impression that I washed off the dirt that these bastards left on me… and inside of me. I often have goose bumps and shakings until I can get ahold of myself. Memories come back to the center of my mind. I start shaking again. My whole body, from organs to skin, is rejecting what happened and trying to shake it off, to no avail.
I feel soiled. Dirty. I rub myself with soap again and again. My face, my back and my genitals hurt as if fire kept burning them.
I stop the water and leave the shower. Cold. I put a towel around myself and dry the water. I feel sick. I go to the toilets and puke again. There is nothing left in my mouth. Nothing comes out. I reach for the sink and rinse my mouth.
I go to the bedroom and put on several layers of clothes. I want to feel warm and not naked. I get under the bed sheets, huddle up into the fetal position. I feel tears drowning my eyes and running on my face.
I feel ashamed. A rape. Me. This should never have happened. What did I do wrong?
Perhaps if I go to sleep, I can never wake up again. Erased from existence. I will forget about everything. No more worries. No more hurt.
I was raped. Assaulted. Animals. These guys were animals. They do not deserve to belong to the Human Race. I want to cut their balls off. Put needles in their penis. Slice them with a scalpel. Make them eat their own penis. They treated me as if I was nothing more than a piece of meat.
I can’t stand it. I can’t bear this feeling of loneliness. This feeling of hopelessness. I get up, grab my phone and go back to bed. I text my sister.
“Hi, how are you doing?”
I wait, looking at the screen. I shut off my thoughts of anything else. I wait. Several minutes, occasionally touching the phone so it remains lit.
Then, finally, she answers.
“I am exhausted. Once again, I apologize for not making it this evening. I am glad you texted, I was wondering if you were upset when I received no reply. Did still spend a good evening? How are you?”
I wait, not sure what to tell her, then “Bad.”
“What is wrong? Is it because I stood you up?”
I wait again, looking at the keyboard. I can’t say it. I can’t say what happened. It feels impossible for me to actually word that I have been raped. I feel so shameful. So… soiled.
So I go for a lighter version “I was assaulted. Two guys hit me when I left the club.”
“Oh my god! Are you hurt?”
And then immediately after she continues “This is my fault. I should have been there. I’m so sorry…”
I answer “They slammed my head against a car and punched me in the face. I will be alright. This is not your fault.” Although I can’t help but feel that if she was here, if I was not left alone with these assholes, maybe it wouldn’t have happened. Fuck…
I am startled as my phone starts to vibrate in my hands. It gently falls on the bed. She is calling me. I reject the call. My voice is in shambles, and there is no way I will risk spilling what happened.
She texts me again. “I’m so sorry. Go see a medic to patch you up and get a certificate, then immediately go to the police for a deposition. Do you want me to come with you?”
“Talking to the police is useless. These guys were from the military. They are judged in their own court, which is usually very lenient from what I have heard.”
“It doesn’t matter! Do you want me to come with you?”
I don’t want her to see me in that state. I don’t want her to learn the truth. I just wanted to reach out, but I am too ashamed to let out any more. “No, thanks. I will be alright. Good night.”
“Please keep me posted. Do NOT hesitate to ask for my help. Whatever happens at my work, this time I won’t leave you alone.”
“I will be fine. Thank you. I will let you know. Goodnight.”
“Ok… Goodnight… Take care.”
I keep looking at the phone. Part of me wishes for her to ask me more. To connect with me. The other part of me wants to be alone. To die.
What can I do now? This body is broken. That piece of meat belongs to the garbage. I feel terrible. I want to escape that shell of dirty used flesh.
I grab my phone again and text her “Hey…”
Somehow, I feel the need to reach out to her again. I need help. I look at the screen. Almost instantly, “Yes? Is there anything I can do for you?”
“I don’t feel the same anymore. My body feels broken.”
She takes more time to answer than her previous text. “Is there something else that happened?”
And, this time quickly, she continues “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that what happened is not horrible enough already. You must first tend to your physical wounds. This is the priority.”
Her next text follows a moment after “This happens a lot in the prison. You will recover. Don’t let it bring you down. Don’t abandon yourself to misery and self-loathing. This was not your fault. You need to stand strong. Move on with life. You will find happiness again, even if you find it hard to believe right now.”
I feel a surge of hatred towards her. How am I supposed to move on after this? And why is she comparing me to other people? I want to stop talking to her. “Thank you. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight. Do not hesitate if you need my help.”
Fuck you. I can’t move on as she said. This body is soiled, broken. I don’t want to spend years living with that. No. There is an easier way. This body is disposable. I want a new one. A male body, so that no one treats me like this again.
I need to get my hands back on my machine.
***
After I switched bodies, I didn’t give much thought to what would happen to my machine. Without my password, no one should be able to use it anyway. I was just glad to escape that ordeal and have a second chance at life. A new path, with no strings attached to the previous one. Leaving my machine and what it brought me behind. Enquiring about the whereabouts of the machine or keeping it for myself would have put me at the risk of getting discovered, and put my neck on the line again. However, now I have nothing left to lose. I need to escape this body.
The only leads that I have are either the government bastard responsible for everything, or my backstab
bing ex-colleague. It sounds like a very bad idea to contact the first one, so I will go for the second one. I have his phone number, I will meet with him and try to dig up if he has any information.
***
I enter the restaurant close to where I used to work and look for an empty table. A waiter quickly comes to greet me, and I tell him that I am waiting for someone. He nods then leaves. The setting is very dull and uninteresting. Several props from different countries have been hung to the walls, but the effect achieved is a complete lack of harmony and an impression that someone dumped here cheap souvenirs from their travels.
The wait is stressing me out. I try to avoid meeting anyone in the eyes. I am sweating. When men pass near my table, I nervously close my legs as tightly as possible. Fuck it. I need to hold on until I can change this body.
I almost decided to ask my ex-colleague about the machine at the phone. That could have been a bad idea, if my phone line is tapped. I can’t know. Perhaps some government agents are still watching my every move. And they didn’t lift a finger when I got assaulted and raped. Fuck them. If only I could make them pay. Make them all pay. I glance over at the screen of my phone displaying a few missed calls from my sister. I turn off the phone, forever.
As I am lost in dark thoughts, the chair in front of me is pulled and someone sits. I am startled and almost let out a shriek as a man enters my personal space. I press my fingers on my own chair and apply as much force as possible to control myself. This is just my ex-colleague. This is just that stupid, fat, dumb asshole I know well. Not a threat. He used to work for me. No, he is a threat, he betrayed me and turned my machine against me for the government asshole. I want to make him pay as well.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hi,” I answer, “thank you for coming.”
“Errr… it’s okay.” He doesn’t look at me in the eyes. “I’m sorry. About your husband. This my fault.”
Yes stupid asshole, it’s your fault. At least if he feels guilty, I can use that to my advantage. “We are both responsible.”
“I can’t tell much, but this all started because of me. I’m so sorry. When I think about what I did… I’m ashamed. How are you doing?”
“This is hard. Really hard. I can’t stop thinking about it.” I need to press my advantage, make him pity me and add to his guilt.
Having seen that my date has arrived, the waiter comes back and takes our orders.
“So you errr… wanted to talk?” He sometimes tries to look at me in the eyes, but quickly averts his eyes.
“Yes. I am confused. I need to understand.”
“Understand what?”
“The machine. What was that all about?”
“Look, eerrrr… They’re probably watching us. I can’t really talk about that. Sorry.” He turns his head to the side, looking nervously at the people around.
“Please, you need to understand. I live with the weight of his loss. I need to know. What is going on with this machine that they wanted so much?” I try to catch his eye while looking as sad as possible. I finally catch his eyes, he blushes and turns his head away again.
“Well. Ok. There’s no harm in telling you a little. But anyway, I don’t know much. I couldn’t understand how the machine works. It reads minds, that you know. But I couldn’t manage to access the code.” He seems very disappointed in himself.
“So what did you do with it?”
“Ahm… I can’t tell that… Classified and all…”
“Please. I need closure.”
“Right. Sorry. Errm. Please don’t ever say I mentioned this to you. The machine was sent to someone to reverse-engineer the machine and how it works.”
“Who?”
“Look errr… Do you really need to know that?”
“Yes please. I won’t actually see that person or anything. I will just feel better if I know where this awful machine that caused my husband to die is.”
“Alright, alright. We gave it to a neuro-engineer, from an institute we often collaborated with. Guy’s really smart, if anyone can crack it, it’s him.”
Oh, I know who he is talking about. Yes, that makes sense, there was no better choice. I was actually inspired by his work when I designed my machine. He would be the most suitable to reveal my secrets. I need to track him down quickly.
“Will you feel better now?” asks my ex-colleague with a concerned expression.
“Yes, thank you.” I actually feel relieved. I accomplished my mission to know where the machine is, and I didn’t need to interact with the government guy. However, whether he will now be aware of me being nosey is a potential outcome. The waiter comes back and places our meals in front of us. Is he secretly listening to us? Or someone at the table next to us? I hope that the background chatter is enough to swallow the content of our conversation.
After some silent deliberation, my ex-colleague looks me in the eyes and surprises me by asking “Do you hate me?”
I want to insult him, to tell him what a horrible human being he is, that I want him to die drowned in his own fat. “No, I don’t hate you. As I said earlier, we are all responsible.”
“Thank you… Means a lot that you said that.” For the first time, he smiles. Do you think that you are forgiven, asshole?
“I am completely lost,” he continues. “With the death of your husband, the lab shut down. It even makes me more sad to come to this place,” he briefly nods towards the restaurant, “because since last two weeks I never had lunch here like I used to. I am doing nothing at home but eat and eat.”
I look at his mass. That is true, he is even fatter than before. I wouldn’t want to get in his unhealthy body.
“Are you looking for jobs?” I ask.
“Just a bit. I wrote to that neuro-engineer. The one we talked about. He is brilliant. But I’m not so good. Your husband was doing most of the work. Also. I don’t want to get through interviews again. Horrible. Too stressfull.”
“I quit my work as well.”
“Oh! I didn’t know. So you will have to go through that too…”
No I don’t think I will. Because I will discard that broken body. That neuro-engineer seems like a good prospect. I will get back a position similar to my previous one and on top of that, I will have free reign to work on my machine again. Perfect.
***
From my table at the restaurant, I keep glancing at my watch. The table next to mine is empty. I hope that she comes as usual. This restaurant has no decoration whatsoever, it is just functional. Like a canteen. It doesn’t need to look good or even serve good food, it is next to a few busy workplaces, a few institutes. People come here to eat regardless of the quality. And among those people, one woman caught my interest.
I have completed the preparations to take possession of a new body. At first I went to the bank to retrieve all my money. This was really scary, walking around with a briefcase full of money. I was paranoid when anyone approached me, eyeing on their every move, holding my briefcase tight against me. Now that I think of it, I must have looked very suspicious. I was so relieved when I stored it in a safe place! Although at times to times I keep going to see if it is still here. I should stop that before anyone notices, but the fear that the briefcase might get stolen really stresses me out. At least now when I will change my body I will keep my money. I started with the money of one person, then a second one, and now I will merge it with a third one. I keep getting richer each time I take control of a new body. Funny thought. However, personal enrichment is not what I am after. Two girls enter the restaurant. I recognize my prey and my heart starts beating faster. They sit at the table next to mine. Yes!
For the past few weeks, I have been observing and following people leaving the institute at lunch time. Identifying them, learning about their habits. I was not interested in all of them. I was especially keen to find women with a handbag. Not only with any handbag, but with a handbag that they would leave accessible during lunch. And, of course, with an opening large enough
for me to put my hand in.
I have followed a few workers from the institute during lunch until I could find just the one that had a big handbag that she leaves open on the seat next to hers. So, naturally, today I went in a bit earlier next to the place where she usually sits. Next to the chair where she leaves her handbag open. I wait for the two women to order food and start eating while talking about work. My heart is pumping faster and faster. I am ready. All I have to do is nonchalantly drop my hand in her back and retrieve what I need.
I can’t do that. Any mistake, someone else noticing, these women moving their eyes in my direction, and I will be spotted. Everything will collapse. I am waiting. Now is the time, I should do it! No, I am waiting for myself to muster the courage to do it. How are pickpockets so efficient, so insensitive to what they are doing?
Who am I to talk? I already murdered, and will soon do the same. Stealing a card is nothing in comparison. With that sudden inspiration, I throw my hand in her bag, grab her wallet, retrieve the access card, put her wallet back in her handbag and instantly get up and leave the restaurant. Thankfully I had already paid the bill. I don’t even dare looking back to see if I have been spotted. Adrenaline is released in my system, my heart is beating very very fast. I walk as quickly as I can. Then a few blocks away, I stop, push my back against a wall, and try to calm down. There was no commotion. No scream. No one noticed. I have about half an hour to enter the institute before she notices and notifies reception that her card has been lost and should be deactivated.
Resolved, I walk towards the institute. I enter the lobby. At the right, an artistic sculpture of a DNA ladder. On the wall, microscopy photographs of various different biological organisms or cells. Beautiful pictures with various colors. I look past as if I was coming through here every day. I go straight for the turnstile, use my access card and get in. There is a sign warning of “no tailgating”.
I looked up the address of the neuro-engineer before coming, and there was information about where his office is. Third floor, wing A. I climb the stairs that were a few meters after the turnstile. Some people are walking downstairs. They wouldn’t recognize me as someone working here, but that wouldn’t be an issue. These places are busy and not everyone knows everyone. Indeed, the people crossing my path look at me for a second but are not interested once they see that they do not know me. I reach the third floor and walk up to where his office is. I locate it. The door is open and he is not inside, as expected he should be in the lab. Most likely just on the other side of the corridor next to the office.
