It was past noon when I finally woke up. Laura was already up, bustling about the room, getting ready, checking her watch. I had a suspicion about where she was going and decided to follow her.
We arrived at her university's student health center. I hung around while Laura sat in the lobby. After a short wait, a tiny woman with a clipboard emerged from the back. "Miss Klein?" Laura looked up. "The doctor will see you now."
The short woman led Laura back to a small office with two comfortable looking chairs. Seated in one of the chairs was a middle-aged woman who smiled warmly at Laura as she entered. The short woman left the room and closed the door behind her while the middle-aged woman beckoned Laura to sit. "I'm Doctor Holbrooks. I understand you've been suffering from minor hallucinations, as well as," she checked her sheet, "'other unspecified symptoms.'"
Laura looked embarrassed, glancing around the room as though seeking an escape. Holbrooks looked Laura dead in the eye. "Laura, I know this is hard. I know this is embarrassing. But everything you say in here is completely confidential. And please, understand that the only way I can help you is if I know exactly what's wrong."
Laura nodded, gulped, and began recounting her troubles to Holbrooks. She told about the hallucinations, about the orgasms, about the mysterious writing on the phone. She told her that her orgasms were preceded missing garments and the strange sensation that she was being touched.
"The figment that touches you is feminine, you say?" Holbrooks asked.
"Yes." A small, embarrassed smile flashed across Laura's face. "Yes. Very much so."
I smiled, taking a moment to cup one of my generous breasts and run the other over my round ass. As I admired my body, I couldn't help but masturbate. The inappropriateness the situation made it all the hotter, and soon I was on the office floor, gasping for breath. I jammed two fingers in and out of my pussy, writhing in delight, when suddenly a strange but familiar feeling overtook me. A dizziness, a . . . warping, followed by oblivion, followed by . . .
I was in another office, sitting in a chair. I could see a desk in front of me, on the far side of which an aging man stood with his back to me, staring out a window.
"So, Mr. Rodgers, you claim that you ARE Miss Parks?"
What was this guy talking about? I was only in her body, and he shouldn't have been able to see me anyway. And then it hit me. The wish. We only swapped bodies for twenty-four hours. How could I have forgotten that?
"You say you simply . . . took Mr. Rodgers' form last night, and have still thought nothing of it?" The man turned around. The look on his bespectacled face was disapproving, but he soon looked, very, very confused.
"Wh- Where did you go!?" he demanded.
"He can't see me," I thought. "That wish transferred with my mind. He still can't see me."
"Wait, where did who go?" The man looked worried. "I- I really need to start getting more sleep at night." And with that, he rushed out of the room.
I stretched out my hand, looking at the ring that was now on my finger once more. "Looks like I might have a mess to clean up," I thought. "Then again I can pretty much do whatever I want with this thing . . ."