Alice flopped on the bed, exhausted by the weight of her new flesh.
"I've waited so long to see you and you just sleep," said Lucinda sulkily. Alice grunted.
"I've so much to ask, you've so much to tell me. Do you like your new body? Francesca was physically blessed but I wish it was all you, but I feel your spirit in there, I feel so close to you and I'm getting nothing back."
Alice, head full of white noise, did not wish to seem ungrateful for Lucinda's dexterous occult resurrection of her but the whiny sense of entitlement was needling her. She was no longer the hick, albeit one possessed of modest telekinetic powers she didn't understand or fully harness, least first time round in the flesh, in awe of the cultured posh girl with the rich parents. There's was the oldest plotline in the book, with the additional tragic twist of Alice's suicide, a narrative that would now be tweaked to Alice's preternatural whims.
"I've come back with certain gifts..."
"You had gifts already, a little wayward maybe. Tell me more..."
"You'll see," said Alice flatly.
"Come on, don't keep me guessing."
"I'm tired little duck, let's sleep."
"You must tell me...the other side...are you pleased to see me, I'm quite proud I pulled it off...why did you leave me Alice?"
"We'll talk about it all, in time," groaned Alice, rolling over and nuzzling her pillow.
"Come on, don't be a bore," implored Lucinda.
"There's a certain overlap with the meatspace. I felt you out there. I could hear the click of your heels in my deepest recesses."
Lucinda snorted derisively.
"You sound like a fucking horse," said Alice.
Lucinda clapped her hands with delight, "Now's that my Alice, my truculent little rustic pudding. Where did you get all those fancy words from?" Inwardly bridling at Lucinda's condescension, Alice whispered "I've heard a lot of things in different voices. Now sleep my flower."
Alice took Lucinda in her arms, her new body still feeling weird, its movements willed rather than instinctual responses. Lucinda had the most beautiful hair, thought Alice, holding it in her fingertips, enjoying its luxurious glossy feel, acquainting herself with sensual touch again. "Look at the moon, little duck, look at the moon," purred Alice. They stared through the open window together at the full moon in a darkness that seemed to be pulsating, where all the stars seemed to have gone.
"Are you looking?"
"Yes my sweet," said Lucinda, discomfort evident in her tremulous affirmation.
The moon's luminescence was increasing in its intensity for Lucinda, a blinding white glow that had lost all colour and definition, exacerbated by finding herself unable to move her neck or close her eyelids. Witchly cackling, Alice, out of Lucinda's tortured fixed gaze, sat upright in bed and buffed a pillow to prop herself against, deriving a deep and satisfying pleasure from Lucinda's distress.
"I can't blink," said Lucinda.
"Now you can't speak," said Alice and Lucinda lay mute and immobile.
The moon was just now an agonising blur for Lucinda, one she feared would pop her eyeballs. Just as they were about to burst and run down her cheeks everything went black like metal shutters had fallen. Now there was nothing but blackness with Lucinda mute, blind, deaf and paralysed but with her senses of touch and smell still keen as ice cold hands that stank of decay ran themselves down her body. Lucinda, without even the dubious comfort of being able to unleash a cathartic scream, was afraid her heart would stop. Phantom fingers were stroking her pussy when she lost consciousness.
Lucinda shot upwards shrieking.
"You alright there girl," smirked Alice. "That was quite a turn."
