by 8Loki
“I prepared dinner,” she says, “come here.”
We sit around the living room table and she turns television back on. Thankfully, she seems now too busy to make conversation. I look at my plate. Pre-cooked food, heated in the oven. This suits her well. She screams “fake” all over my senses. Even her strong perfume irritates my smell. Enduring her presence is going to be painful.
She laughs hysterically at gossip jokes of the TV show she is watching. I am tempted to take a knife to her throat to make it stop. Some more blood flowing today won’t make a difference.
No, I am being silly. It will not be so easy to get rid of her body from here and explain her disappearance. To discreetly prevent her relatives to try to contact my wife, I sent a text to her friends and family that I was going to spend time alone abroad to recharge my batteries, and would not bring my phone. A few showed concern that it was not safe and I should be able to reach out in case of need, but I ignored them. I did the same for my sister, she insisted on meeting me before I leave so I told her I was already at the airport and would then shut down my phone until I was back. She tried to call me before I turned off the phone, and that was it, now it will take a while before anyone starts to really dig into this.
Once the show is over, the woman shifts her attention back to me.
“At work today I learned that my youngest colleague is pregnant,” she says.
“Oh, congratulations to her,” I answer, trying my best to sound cheerful.
“No. That bitch. I am sure that it is another scheme to avoid coming to work.”
“Oh…”
“Remember when she said she was ill? I was certain she faked it. Her being pregnant now is another proof that she is avoiding work at all cost.”
Another proof? Whatever, I need to be nice to her until I can ask about my password. “Yes, I think you are right.”
“I will let a word or two to the boss, see if she can fire her and take someone more competent. And someone less focused on her good looks and more on the quality of her work.”
There. This seems to be the reason why she hates her so much. “You deserve a better colleague, that’s right.”
She smiles. “And how was your day at work, before your dreadful accident?”
“Uh, boring. Oh that reminds me. I think that I also forgot the password to my computer.”
“Oh… Well don’t you write your passwords in your phone?”
“Err… Sure… You know, my head, I forgot.”
“Poor little thing! I will help you remember, tonight. Go take a shower,” she quickly adds with a wink, “and wait in bed. I know a good remedy.”
Shit. She is flirty. I should now expect her to try and have sex with me tonight. I tentatively smile and get up from the dining table. Perhaps I could propose to help her wash the dishes, gain her gratitude and ask for the password again? This simple need is so important to me that it creates an invisible power play in her favor. As long as she holds that power, I need to act nice towards her.
She sees me standing, smiles and says “It’s fine, I will take care of the table. Go take your shower already!”
I whisper “Thank you”, turn on my heels and set out to explore the house and find the bathroom.
Didn’t I decide a bit earlier that I would use force if necessary? Can’t I just torture her to spill the password? No, this is not yet necessary and… could lead to unwanted consequences and jeopardize my chances at this life. I will try the nice way first. After all, I have not had many women in my life.
I enter the bathroom and start to undress. The shirt is sticky to my skin and a pain to remove, I must have been sweating a lot today. I throw the clothes on the floor and approach the mirror to take a good look at myself.
Ew. I take a few steps back in astonishment mixed with disgust. This face is very unfamiliar to me. It doesn’t feel like it belongs to me at all. I touch the cheeks with my hands. Yes, I can sense the touch of my fingers, this is my face. Why does it still feels like I am watching somebody else? Why don’t I recognize this face as mine? Perhaps I was familiar with the looks of my wife and thus the transition was smoother despite the sex change? However, my displeasure does not only come from the uncomfortable feeling of having a face I am not used to. The main reason is… this man is ugly. I don’t like his nose. His eyebrows. His chin. His hair. And this is my face now. I am committed to it. The body seems hairy and badly proportioned.
My heart starts beating very fast. Panic is taking over. I am stuck in a body I don’t like. This just happened. Today. And it is too late. I can’t go back. I made a mistake. Stupid decision. How can I rewind? Is there still a way to undo the changes?
I feel dizzy. I sit on a bathmat. Need to relax. My penis hangs softly between my legs and rests on the mat. Ew. This… thing is not mine. The beating of my heart will make my head explode. I try to breathe deeply, loudly. My heart is scaring me, as if it was racing too fast, afraid that it cannot escape this situation, this body.
I breathe.
I can escape.
I breathe.
Yes, I can escape. I will use that body as a temporary settlement until I think through a better plan and a better target to possess.
I breathe. I am more relaxed now. I found a solution to my predicament, reassuring myself that this is not a dead end situation. I can get out of this.
I only need to force myself to survive in this body for a little bit. I can do that.
I enter the shower, open the water handle and wait until nice warm water envelops my body. I feel better. I let the water run for about ten minutes. The panic has faded and I can quietly enjoy this moment.
I soap myself, scrub strongly where I was sweating and take a towel. There are two towels, and I suppose that mine is the one that is not pink. I dry myself and put the towel back in place. I then look over the room, scanning for what to dress myself with. There are no fresh clothes here. Indeed, I would have prepared them beforehand in my previous lives, but right now I am not confident enough with this place to have done so. There are two bathrobes. I pick the largest one up and drape myself with it. I am not used to these, my unwanted penis is weirdly dangling freely. I place my previous clothes in a basket full of unfolded clothes and ready myself to leave the bathroom.
I take a deep breath. Ok, so this new wife is probably expecting sex of me. I have to please her. I don’t like her, I don’t like my body, but I have to maintain appearances until I can find a new body. And obtain the password first. All of this is just temporary, I can manage it.
I open the door, letting some steam leave the bathroom before me. I have seen the bedroom earlier, I need to go there. Every step feels heavy, as if my whole body was trying to collapse and roll backwards. I march to my own torture. Ah, no, maybe it will not be so bad. After all, I should be excited. I will be having sex with someone new. And I will be the one doing the penetration this time. I feel my dick getting harder.
I push the bedroom door. She is in lingerie, lying on the bed, reading a book under a dim light with a red taint. She sees me, smiles and puts her book on the nightstand. “Come here so I can heal your wounds.”
I don’t know if it were her roleplay wording or her eyes when she said those words, but I am turned off. My penis lost its vigor. This won’t do. I smile and walk forward. I need to become harder again. I need to think of something arousing.
I imagine the previous body of my wife. Its elegant curves. Smooth skin. I suddenly see her cut in small pieces. Shit. Not exactly what I needed to feel more excited, I am even more put off. I need a new image in my mind. Oh, right. My sister. I create a fantasy in which she is the one waiting on the bed. This almost happened. Yes, my sister. Forbidden desire. A fantasy that seems so possible but was never completely fulfilled. Here she is, waiting for me to penetrate her. My dick gets harder. I open the bathrobe, presenting my manly bow pointing in the direction of where it will dock in. She smiles. For a split second it puts me off but with mental effort
I superimpose the image of my sister over the image of this woman.
As I get close to the bed, she takes my dick in her hands and sucks it greedily. Her disgusting lips and saliva all over my penis. I feel it losing strength and getting softer. My sister. Her breasts. I get back in strength, hopefully she didn’t notice anything.
She lets go of my dick with a suction noise and lies on her back, legs spread towards me. She takes off her panties, throws them away and lets me have a clear view of her pussy. It looks thinner than my wife’s, and there is no pubic hair at all. I lean on top of her and direct my penis towards her vagina with my fingers. I enter easily as she is quite wet. She lets out a sigh of pleasure and wraps her hands around my back, pressing herself against me as far as the position allows her.
I am inside of her. I should feel in power, but not this time. I am forcing myself to execute a sexual act, and I need to please her to get what I want. I push deeper. At least, this time I am on the other end of the stick. A sensation similar to a goose bump erupts in my genitals. I feel my penis shrinking. I look at my dick partly inside of her. I think of the guys that were inside of me. I see their faces on top of me.
Disgust fills me. I pull out and lie on my back. I don’t want to remember this moment. I can almost feel it happening again.
“What’s wrong?” she cries.
I should not have these thoughts anymore. I changed body! This new one should be unaffected…
“Please… Tell me what’s wrong,” she continues.
“My head… hurts,” I lie. “I feel dizzy.”
“Aw poor thing…” She grabs my head and gently pushes it against her breasts.
I must admit that her warmth makes me feel better. I close my eyes and wrap my arms around her. I ignore her appearance and focus on the touch and warmth. Just as in the shower before, I feel at peace.
My life is so fucked up. Is there really a point to keep on living? I have been through horrible moments, and I have destroyed other people’s life. And every time, I just move to the next body, leaving the previous one to die. Is it really so important that I keep on living, if each incarnation is meant to die anyway? Can’t I put an end to this spiral of self-destruction?
Dying… won’t solve what’s wrong with this world. I want my revenge. And, perhaps, if I can correct humanity, then I will be able to have a peaceful life without being exposed to its cruelty and violence.
I notice that I was grabbing her very firmly and that my eyes were watery. She is caressing my hair. I plant a soft kiss on the skin under my mouth. She lets out a sigh of satisfaction and caresses my hair more firmly.
***
I am in the hospital bed.
I can’t move.
I look around in distress.
The government guy is here with a broad, carnivorous smile.
He laughs at me.
He says that he is manipulating my mind.
That I lead him right where the machine is.
No, not where the machine is.
I gave him the password.
My sister is sitting in the room.
She gets up and reaches my bed.
Her mouth opens in disgust.
A shockwave roars almost knocking the bed aside.
I grab my sister’s arm.
She pushes me away.
The threatening guy laughs again, his laugh transforms into another roaring shockwave.
I fall besides the bed.
Under the bed are body pieces.
Another shockwave and the room is knocked sideways, the wall behind me becomes the floor.
Body pieces fall all over me.
I try to grasp for air.
Another roaring sound.
I need to…
I breathe at the full capacity of my lungs and realize that the roaring vibration that woke me up was my snoring. I am not pressed against the wife anymore, we both rolled on the side. Snoring, on top of everything? Another issue on the long list of grieves I have with that body. It doesn’t let me sleep correctly.
Before falling asleep… the sex… what the fuck was I doing with the wife? Intruding on her… Penetrating her… Betraying her trust. I am a stranger in her bed and she does not know it yet.
This is just temporary. Until I can make some progress in my situation. Well, once I move in a new body, I guess this current one… The me of now… Will die.
It’s still the early morning. I should get some more sleep.
I don’t feel tired.
I change my position, perhaps it will be better.
This is not working.
I move again.
No, still not good.
I keep struggling as time passes by.
The longer it takes, the more frustrating it is.
That government guy is smiling at me.
He knows that I have been raped.
He comes forward. His face next to mine.
He tells me that he orchestrated the rape.
To see what I would do.
To push me to use the machine again. Test if his theory was correct.
He laughs.
He tells me that he recorded me masturbating with my webcam.
He jerks off to it.
He turns me back so I am on my belly.
He inserts his penis in my asshole.
I get up and stand next to him.
He is fucking my body. My real one, the first one.
The eyes of my body are empty. He is dead.
The guy laughs maniacally. He enjoys himself immensely.
His face contorts.
The head of my body cracks open and explodes with a roaring sound.
Brain and blood splatter everywhere.
I open my eyes. There is light. Why are there no shades? I am sweaty. There is a body next to mine.
Where am I?
My mind takes a moment to adjust and make the difference between the nightmare and reality. I guess that I finally went back to sleep for a bit. I wonder which is worse, dreams or reality. As I ponder upon these, I get startled. An alarm clock is ringing. The wife throws her arm and snaps it off.
“Uh… good morning,” she says.
“Good morning,” I reply.
“How did you sleep?”
“Not well. You?”
“I am sorry to hear that… Come here.”
She grabs me and kisses me. Her wet lips unsettle me. I stir away from her. She seems annoyed.
“Sorry,” I tentatively try to excuse myself, “I don’t feel well.”
“Mmm it’s ok. You had an accident. I understand. I hope you get better soon. I will do my best to support you. On that note, I’m going to prepare breakfast. Join me in a bit!”
She gets up, dresses up and leaves the bedroom without looking back at me. I let a minute or two pass after she has gone, then I get up as well. I browse the wardrobe and find what I need. It’s definitively easier for me to pick random clothes from another male than it was to pick clothes for the body of my wife.
I enter the living room where a nice breakfast is waiting for me. I feel a bit bad about her, I don’t find her attractive despite all the efforts she puts to please me. I still need to be nice to get the password. “That’s so sweet, thank you.” She smiles and I enjoy the food while showing that I am pleased with it. At least I don’t have to fake it.
She drops a kiss on my forehead and tells “I’m going go to the bathroom, put some make-up. You don’t have to wash the dishes today either, I’ll take care of it.”
As she starts to leave, I figure this is my best chance “Wait just a second please. What is my password again?”
“Oh, that’s right! Let me show you.”
She picks up my phone and shows me the code, pausing between each movement. Finally I have it… “Thank you”.
“Will you walk to work?” she enquires.
“Yes, I will. It’s not that far.”
“Please be safe.”
“I am not gone yet! I need
to brush my teeth first. But yes, I will be.”
***
When I went back to the institute, I had to confront my anxiety before entering the place. I was stressing over that they might have found the body pieces and were waiting in the entrance to arrest me. Luckily, nothing of that sort happened and I could reach my office without trouble.
On the phone, I found a useful note file with all the information I need to access everything of his. I parse through it once again to find his professional computer password. I type it in. It worked. His desktop is cluttered with many icons. I try to find anything related to my machine in this mess. After scanning half the screen, I find his electronic lab book. I open it and read through his notes. He validated that the machine does not only read neuronal signals but can also send them. Shit. What is more worrying to me is that he noticed that the neuro-helmets have the capacity to deeply affect neurons on top of just activating them. Did he pass up this information to anyone?
Suddenly, the sounds of footsteps startle me and I turn my head towards the entrance very quickly. A woman is standing there, smiling.
“Hey, wanna go for a coffee?” she says.
I think about the situation. She is probably a colleague familiar to the body’s previous owner, and maybe they have a tradition of going for a coffee each morning, or each day of this week or something of that sort. As far as I am concerned there is no need to interact with her, and interacting with her could increase the risk factor of being exposed. However, suddenly stopping all contact could also indicate that something is different. Or that I am suddenly an asshole, which I would be fine with. “I can’t, sorry,” I reply. “I am busy.”
“Sure, see you later,” and she walks away, seemingly disappointed. I suppose that I will have to fend her off again in the future. Perhaps I could sometimes have a coffee with her, just so I am not too mean with her all of a sudden? And what if she is this guy’s lover?
Whatever. I am a murderer. I am not supposed to be a nice person that is afraid to frustrate someone. I have done far worse.
Back to business. I open up the mail client. I need to know what the neuro-engineer reported to the government guy. I browse through his e-mail history, inbox and outbox. Indeed, they have been in contact. And they have been cautious. No conversations have been carried out by e-mail, the government guy just gives times and places to meet. Shit. So I can’t see what they have been talking about, and what the government guy knows… I still don’t know if I should be worried or if I am threatened in any way.
