Out Of Body Out Of Mind

~1~

'Just sign here,' the wiry-looking scientist muttered, his name already forgotten. I smiled, nodded, and penned my name in my familiar scrawl - P. Canning.

'When does the payment come through?' I asked, trying to mentally skip the next hour or so, so after this experiment was over and I could enjoy the cool thousand pounds I had been promised.

'Compensation will be organised after this, Ms. Canning. Now, let's take you through.'

He walked me from the subtle comfort of the meeting room we had discussed in (not that there was much to say - most of the reasoning behind the large compensation package was because it was a blind chemical study; I wasn't allowed to know what was going to be injected into me, nor what the effects might be. Not completely above board, I'm sure, but I needed the money), and led me into a clean room with crisp air. There was a divider between two chairs, where he sat me down. On my left was the divider, my right a mirrored wall I assumed was a two-way mirror situation.

I sat, and as the guy in his white overcoat pulled a blindfold over my eyes, considered the project I had volunteered into.

It wasn't a popular proposal, I knew that - the guys from the lab seemed almost surprised to get a sign-up. Even for a grand, exposure to untested chemicals for unclear reasons was enough to put most people off.

But I wasn't most people. Behind on rent, and running low on ramen, it was this or the food bank. Sod it.

'When you feel the injection, wait ten seconds, and then I want you to think of a phrase. Any words you want, just think them as hard as you can. Understand?'

I nodded. I had an A-level in psychology, and knew that the worst thing for the experiment was to try and guess the purpose. Covert study in a controlled environment was tricky, so it was best to play along without thinking about it too much.

Noise-cancelling headphones were applied, and I was left with nothing but my thoughts. I didn't want to think about the study, or the untested chemical cocktail that was about to be let loose in me, so I decided to pick a phrase to think.

I sifted through movies I had seen recently, stuff on Netflix and the like - it was typical of me to get home after work, stick whatever I could find on TV, and start my uni work. A degree in English left enough time to hold down a part-time job, or keep up with coursework, not both. For some reason, the first Pokémon movie came to mind, and that ridiculous line from Brock as they run through the rain; 'I'll use my frying pan as a drying pan!'

As stupid as it was, it was as good a phrase as any.

There was a sudden cold wipe on my neck, followed by an awful scratch. I felt heat, like someone was pouring boiling water straight into my veins, spreading through me. It swam through my limbs, my heart, and finally my head.

THRUMMM

.

*

The sound was deafening, though a part of me knew it wasn't sound at all - the headphones proved that. No, this was in me, inside my head - warmth blew through me, sparking like fireworks behind my eyes. I felt my body as though it was someone else, alien and out of proportion.

I counted down from ten, desperately trying to keep everything together, terrified of what was happening to me. I looked out and realised they must have taken the blindfold off me. I was standing, looking through a window, at someone in an uncomfortable looking chair. It was a girl, wearing a blindfold like mine. She had hair like mine, and was even wearing the same kind of shirt -

THRUMMM.

*

That aching, echoing noise rattle through me again, and I was suddenly sat again, and had the blindfold on again. I was about to call out, in pain or in fear, but just as soon as it came, the pain left. No more fireworks behind my eyes. I was fine.

A moment passed, before the blindfold was taken off of me, and I saw the same scientist - though he was probably just a student like me, if a bit older - frowning at me. Then, off came the earphones, allowing me to hear the muffled conversations of people, presumably behind the two-way-mirror beside me.

'Thank you for your participation, Ms. Canning. How are you feeling?'

I nodded. 'A little light-headed.'

In truth, there was still a bit of an odd ebbing in my head, like I'd banged it and my brain was still bouncing around a little. I knew that wasn't the case, but it was the only way to explain how it felt.

'Now that you've taken part, we'll be reviewing the information we've learned, but the part of the test that requires secrecy is over. We're going to have a debriefing so you can discuss your experiences, and if you have any questions you can ask them then. Would you like some water?'

I nodded again, and he produced one of those squeezy sports bottles. I drank from it quickly, and felt the ebbing in my head subside a little more. The scientist gave me a concerned look, and I suddenly felt bad that I couldn't remember his name.

He helped me up, and we exited the strange little room, through a short corridor and into what was clearly another meeting room, just with the table pulled to one side so we could sit more casually. I asked about the money.

'One thousand, straight to the account you gave us the details for, by the end of the week,' he said. 'Any other questions?'

I considered it. I had kind of intentionally not been thinking about this, trying to put it out of my mind. Selling yourself to some dodgy scientific rounds of experimentation wasn't the most prideful way to earn your keep, and so this had always been some shameful thing I'd tried to keep away from everyone. Even myself. As such, I didn't have any prepared questions, but a basic one came to mind.

'What's all this for?'

He smiled, and sat back, drinking what smelled like coffee. Fuck, I would have loved a coffee right then.

'It's a strange one, I have to admit,' he said, all of a sudden coming off as though this wasn't his show, he was just presenting it. 'But it's effectively a test for psychic powers. Telepathy, all that.'

I was dumbstruck. 'Right.'

'Between you and me, you just made the easiest money you'll ever make. We're working for some foreign company - most of the people here are just doing it for the paycheck.'

'So...' I thought about it for a moment. 'Do you even know what you injected me with?'

His eyes widened, and he straightened up, realising he'd maybe stepped over an invisible line or two. 'Of course, but I'm afraid the chemical components are confidential.'

'Says the company you're working for.'

'Afraid so.'

I knew this was potentially dodgy, but for this guy to just outright admit it was... odd.

'What was it supposed to do?'

He sighed, and took another drink. 'Make you slightly susceptible,' he said, sounding ever so slightly regretful.

'To what?'

'Mind reading,' he said. 'The theory, apparently, is there's some psychic link between all people, every human. The link is fragile, and effectively useless, but it's there. But someone, somewhere, thinks this chemical will boost that link enough to make someone open to being read.'

'Being read.'

'That line, from a film, that we asked you to think of. The idea is for one of our scientists to see if he can guess it, whilst you're under the influence. You had no other input - sound or visual cut off. Then he tried to read your mind. With some help.'

'Did it work?' I asked.

'You tell me,' he said, pulling a piece of paper from his top pocket. He pulled on his glasses, squinted, and read out, '

I'll be back.

'

I laughed, and he folded the paper away. 'No, that's wrong,' I said.

He gave a half-smile, and took another drink of coffee. 'So. Did you feel anything?'

'What do you mean?'

'Under the influence. When you were injected. What did it feel like?'

I could have told him about the pain, and the strange out-of-body experience - which I assume it was. Probably my brain trying to make sense of the sudden threat, the pain running through me, stitching together memories and images of me in the chair, plus some imagination to alter the perspective a bit.

But that sounded a hair too crazy, so I didn't.

'It was a little hot,' I said, remembering that first pang of pain when I was injected. 'And it hurt a little.'

'Nothing more than that?' he asked, sounding more curious than anything. I shook my head, and he nodded. 'No problem. As I said, so long as your bank details are correct, you should receive your compensation by the end of the week. Here,' he said, pulling out a small card with some contact info on them. 'If anything happens, or if you have any questions, I'm contactable here.'

'I thought this was all covert?' I asked, wondering why a secretive project would be so forthright in contact details.

He shrugged. 'Maybe I'm just trying to get your number. Call me for whatever you like.'

He smiled, and I found myself smiling back. Now I felt

really

bad that I couldn't remember his name. In all honesty, it had been a while since anyone had made a move like that, and while he was a bit older than me, maybe around 30, he didn't seem gross. No pressure. And I had his number, not the other way around.

We stood together, and he went to show me the way out. 'Do you have any other questions? Before you head off?'

I did, actually. 'How many people have done this?'

'You're number one,' he said with a smile. 'Hence the interest in your feedback. Everyone will be heard, of course, but this first person in is often the best place to get first impressions. We'll look at the pain issue, of course.'

'I don't mind,' I said. 'Not like I'll be doing it again.'

'No,' he said with a smile. 'Still! Thank you for being part of this highly-lucrative study!'

I smiled, and let him lead me out of the University building, holding doors for me on the way down. It was all very chivalrous.

He gave me a good handshake and a nod, and I walked away with a funny feeling in my stomach. That, and a slightly recurring ache behind my eyes.

~2~

Owing to my less-than-stellar financial situation, my flat was a bit shit. Or, rather, the building was a bit shit. I'd made the effort to make my space within a homely place, lots of books and potted plants I had managed to keep alive. None of that made the walk up those concrete steps with the blue-painted iron railing any more enjoyable.

The only solace, and it was a guilty one, was that my neighbor was an absolute dream. Tall and handsome, he had the kind of facial hair that framed his smile wonderfully, and he was

broad

. He was an athlete, I had discovered - mostly from seeing him more than once in lycra, giving me a

very

nice idea of what he was packing. Cycling seemed like the most likely thing, and it made him toned but not bulky, lithe but not skinny.

He was my beautiful boy-next-door, Alex. And his girlfriend, the equally beautiful Zara. They had a joint instagram where they called themselves AleZara. It was sickeningly cute, just like them, and while I had committed most of Alex's physique to memory for, ahem, personal use, it was clear it would never be more than that.

I didn't bump into them on my way home that night - but I could hear a little commotion behind their door as I walked past it. Cheap flats mean thin walls, and more than once I had overheard an argument, or a night of passion, which has kept me up into early hours. For very different reasons, of course.

From the sounds of it, at least, Alex was very... capable. Didn't help me to stop my leering, in all honesty. But, what can you do. I can't afford to move out, and if ever now and again I get to get myself off to the sounds of his potent love-making, so be it. We all deserve a little happiness, don't we?

My flat, once I'd gotten past the stubborn half-rusted hinges of my front door, welcomed me like an old friend. The heating was on, so I was able to quickly shed the jumper I had on, throwing them vaguely in the direction of my bedroom. I headed to the kitchen, hit the kettle on, and kicked off my shoes in the corner by the radiator. My bag hit the floor by the sofa, and I dropped down into the blanket-covered seat with a contented sigh.

The kettle started to boil, and I clicked on my TV, ready to have myself a nice evening, and get rid of this blasted headache.

Hopefully it wasn't any sort of lasting side-effect of today's injection.

I flicked through some of the channels as I waited for the kettle to finish whistling - though it was really more of a thin screech - and ended up on a music channel. I kept the volume low, and finished my tea, before sifting through the cupboards to decide on dinner. A can of tomato soup, some outdated sourdough bread, and a can of diet coke would have to do it. Nothing to write home about, but I'd had more shameless meals in the past.

I put the stove on, and poured in the can of soup to let it simmer, chucking in a few herbs and some salt to try and fix it up a bit, before setting myself back down on the sofa with my tea. As I started to flick through the channels, however, the brief pauses of silence made me able to hear something I wasn't a stranger to at all, but was nonetheless always slightly nervous about.

I muted the TV, and sure enough, there was the tell-tale rhythmic banging of Alex and Zara's bed frame against the other side of my kitchen/livingroom wall. Whoever had built these flat had obviously either forgotten that this was a real-world possibility, or they enjoyed the idea that someone's sex life might be projected through the plywood walls to unsuspecting tennants next door.

Quickly, I turned beat red as I started to hear more, Alex and Zara clearly getting into things.

'Fuck!' I heard, in that uptight voice Zara had, which was annoying at the best of times. As I imagined her, only a few feet away from where I was now, moaning on Alex's cock, she was almost insufferable.

But I kept listening.

'Alex! Oh God - so big! Baby, fuck me! Fuck me, daddy - fuck me daddy!'

Daddy. That was a new one.

I knew I should put the TV on. Just some music, or some trash reality TV to somewhat drown them out. But I didn't. I just sat there, willing my hands to keep to themselves as I grew flustered on my own sofa, listening to Alex turn his girlfriend into a quivering mess.

'Please daddy harder! Yes! Fuck me! Fuck me like you hate me!'

That almost made me laugh, despite how my body was reacting. The contrast of her baby-talk and the roughness of their pounding did something to me I wasn't proud of, and before I had a chance to talk myself out of it, I had put my tea down and was leaning back on the sofa, unbuttoned the top of my trousers, and let my hand slip under the fabric as I listened.

I closed my eyes, listening to the rhythm of their fucking -

thump, thump, thump, thump

- imagining the powerful thrusts of Alex, his sweaty face above mine, scrunched up in a show of effort.

'Fuck me,' I whispered to myself as Zara moaned through the wall.

My fingers traced the outline of my damp lips, pushing under my panties and playing with my clit as I listened, timing myself to them.

Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump

.

I picture Alex, handsome Alex, fucking me into the bedspread, my fingers a poor substitute for his cock, but nimble enough on my pleasure centers to at least get me going.

I'd done this before, and I'd probably do it again, but each time I was left with a shame of guilt once I'd squeezed an orgasm out of their love life, inserting myself like a parasite on their sex.

Still, it felt so good to hear them moaning as I played myself like a fine instrument, the inviting slick crevasse of my sex humming as my fingers dipped and stroked, my legs pinned together by the trousers now half-way down my thighs. I moaned, feeling myself approach that blessed edge, and cringed as the pain behind my eyes grew. It felt like a balloon, suddenly bulging and filling my head, a pressure like nothing else, hot and painful - and then everything changed.

*

Suddenly, I was face-down, ass-up, moaning like a wildcat as I was fucked from behind. I shrieked, the sudden onslaught of pleasure scaring me for a moment, until my eyes rolled. My sex life had been so dry, and whatever fantasy this was, it was so real that I struggled to care what was happening - it just felt so good.

The cock pounding into me was long, thick, glorious, and unrelenting - it smashed deep into me with each powerful thrust, shaking the bed under us.

'Ohhh! Fuuuck!' I wailed, my voice high and fluttering, unable to find purchase as my body shook with each pounding.

'Fuck, you're so wet,' said the owner of this glorious cock, my fantasy making him sound all too much like Alex - his deep, gravelly voice an aphrodisiac in itself. I moaned, biting the pillow and gripping the sheets as I did nothing but accepted his cock over and over, unquestioning, uncaring. 'So fucking tight!'

I felt that pressure again - the good kind, that built in my core when I could feel an orgasm coming. How long had it been since I'd come from vaginal sex alone? It only happened at the best times, and right now was the best. A long streak of dry sexless agony broken, my g-spot pressed against with each quick thrust, my clit being teased by the swinging of his balls against me.

Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump

. The bed shook into the wall, the world vibrating around us as I crested over, my body locking up as my voice caught in my throat - my face froze in shock and joy and bliss as he came inside me, grunting like a monster.

'Fuuuck, yes, Zee,' he moaned, and a part of my brain - the bit that was still working - registered it behind all of the noise and colour that was racing through me. 'Call me daddy, bitch,' he growled, and I whimpered.

'Daddy,' I moaned, recognising the voice. My voice. Not my voice. Zara's voice, saying my words. 'Daddy, fill me up,' I moaned, a strange part of me unable to do anything but revel in this feeling. I was with Alex, his long, thick cock was buried in me, and he was filling me as I came on his length.

'Yesssss,' he hissed, his hands moving from their vice-grip on my hips to my chest, pulling me up. Still inside me, grinding the last of his cum against my cervix, he gripped my tits - Zara's tits - and pulled me into a sweeping kiss of hunger and lust and tongue. I gave as good as I got, biting hip lip and moaning, pressing myself back onto him as the last few shivers of orgasm shook through him.

'You're so fucking good,' he moaned into my mouth, his finegrs feeling heavenly on my chest as he kneaded me, playing with me like I was his.

But I wasn't. This wasn't me.

The heat. Pain.

*

Just as suddenly, I wasn't there anymore. Alex wasn't behind me, wasn't moaning, wasn't kissing, wasn't groping. I wasn't naked, gasping, shuddering, cumming.

Instead, I was stumbling, still in my button-popped trousers, socks without shoes, in the corridor outside. My momentum surprised me, and I tripped into the wall, landing with a painful

thud

.

I stopped, dazed. It had all felt so

real

. The sex - Alex's body - the bedding in my grip - his heaving breath on my neck.

God, I was getting wet again.

Whatever the reason for me being in the corridor, it wasn't smart to stay out here now I'd come to my senses, so I pulled myself up, quickly buttoned my waist, and thanked whatever God was above that my door hadn't swung shut without my keys in my pocket.

I burst in, kicked the door shut behind me, and stopped to process.

What just happened?

I knew what it felt like - but that was ridiculous. It was stupid to think I had somehow...

became

Zara. I was her, in her body - in that moment. Which was impossible, of course. But I knew what it felt like.