Out of Body Experience

Do not reprint this work on any other website, or any medium, without the express consent of the author (me!).

Synopsis: Mary and Tara are college dorm mates. An inexplicable event leaves them in control of one another's bodies, but still feeling the sensations of their own.

I

Okay, so... I'm totally stressing out about this thing. I don't know who to tell. Everyone will think I'm crazy. God, I know

you

will too... But whatever. I don't even know you. I was looking up how to deal with this kind of shit online—the stress, I mean—And everything keeps telling me to just talk about it. Write it down. I'll try anything at this point, I guess. Well, I

guess

I already have!... err... never mind. I'm getting ahead of myself.

I'm Mary. You don't need to know my last name. I'm a sophomore at... a university. I live—lived? A normal life. I grew up in the suburbs, had a couple of boyfriends in high school, and moved out-of-state on a scholarship. I'm pretty sure I'm going to go into zoology. I like animals. They're a lot easier than people.

It's not that I'm antisocial or anything. I've always just found myself more at peace with things that don't understand the concept of drama. Then again... well, I guess you probably don't care about any of this. Maybe I'm stalling. I'm not that great at explaining things, but—oh to hell with it.

So I have a roommate, Tara. We've shared a dorm room since spring quarter of last year, so I think I know her pretty well. We're not BFFs or anything, but we get along decently. She's just, you know, that typical- um- precious little thing. She's nice enough, if not a little stuck-up at times... Okay, I'm supposed to say what I really feel. I'm beating around the bush, and I know it.

Don't get excited, but she's very pretty. Okay, she's gorgeous. And she knows it, but it's true. She can eat whatever she wants and always stays skinny. Her parents... I don't know what they do, but I guess her dad must rake it in. Maybe her mom does too... I forget. It's just

that

kind of family, I'm assuming. I mean, they own

horses

for crying out loud. And don't get me started on how many medals Tara has won in all her little tournaments.

Sorry. Pet peeve. I don't know if it's the snob hang-up, or because I think training horses is kind of cruel. Just let them

be;

they're not a toy for our amusement! I almost had this conversation once with her, and she couldn't even fathom where I was coming from. But that's Tara for you. Self-centered.

God! I'm not trying to avoid the subject. I don't know how to

tell

this. This isn't what I

do.

Some of it is important though. You have to—to know Tara to get the impact, I think. But I'm being unfair to her. Like I said, she's not all bad. She can just get under my skin from time to time. Everything comes so easily to her and- and...

Honesty

. I'm supposed to be honest. Fine. Let me just explain how it started, first. Maybe that will help.

It was late Friday night. Well, not

that

late. Getting close to midnight, I guess? I stayed in. I usually stay in. Going out to parties or whatever is just... a lot of work, you know? Tara always invites me out. No matter what it is, where it is, she'll ask. Sometimes I even go. More out of a sense of some weird obligation than anything else. I just feel like a total bitch if I say no

every

single time.

"Come on," she will always say with that sweet smile, "It'll be fun! Why are you always cooping yourself up! We're hot, let's live it!"

Uh huh. So Tara likes boys. I think she likes

herself

even more though. The amount of time she spends preening herself in front of the mirror. Sometimes I catch her just looking at herself, little smile curling on her lips, self-approval just

radiating

out of her. There's probably nothing she likes more than having people gawk at her. I never knew if it was some sort of weird insecurity thing, or if she just had a crazy vain streak. Maybe it's both. I don't know.

Anyway. The point is that she has a different "boyfriend" every other week. They're like trophies to her. Except she's no tease. She likes sex. Likes to feel good.

My

theory is what really gets her off is knowing how excited the guy is to be with her.

Ugh

. I don't mind if she wants to lay every "hottie with a body" she meets. It's her life. It's just not how

I

want to be. I don't even mind leaving the dorm if she brings someone back

here

that much. I just don't want to hear about it.

I mean,

sure

, in the beginning I guess I was curious. She would tell me about this guy or the next, saying how he was good, if he was. And she was completely, I mean

completely

uninhibited about sharing details. Now, I'm not a nun or anything, but like I said, I had a couple boyfriends in high school... I'm not exactly, um—

that

experienced. So after my initial shock, I

was

fascinated by what she had to say. At least, I mean, it was educational.

But after awhile, I realized she didn't even care what I thought. She was really just using me as a soundboard to talk about herself. I got sick of it. But she never picked up on my hints that I wasn't interested anymore. Now I just sort of ignore her.

Okay. I'm whining again. The truth is, I was jealous. Yeah, I bet you already figured that out. It took me awhile to admit it to myself, but there is something appealing about her self-assuredness. Her willingness to use what she has to get what she wants. Her complete lack of shame in feeling good. I didn't want to be

exactly

like her, but her... freedom? That was something I envied. So yeah. My secret little fantasy, sometimes when I was alone, was to imagine myself wearing a skimpy little

'Tara'

outfit and just giving in to the first cute guy I saw. It's not

that

bad.

Back to the point though. It was Friday. I was surprised that she came huffing in when she did. She so rarely comes back this early without another toy in toe. But she was alone and not looking very happy. She stomped through the room and let out a loud sigh as she dropped her purse into a chair, just waiting for me to chime in.

Like I said, I'm not a bitch... Even if I knew it was going to be some bullshit fuss. "Hey Tara... What's wrong?"

"Boys!" she groaned out loud. "Stupid, Neanderthal, groping, incompetent boys!"

Here we go

. Time for her to unload all her woeful problems onto me, because the world is just

so

unfair to her! I had a book in my lap and looked down at the pages sorrowfully, knowing that I would try to keep reading as she ranted, but I wouldn't be able to enjoy it.

"So the party didn't end well?" I offered with a tried sincerity.

"So Jake... You remember Jake, right? Sandy brown hair? Great arms?

Guh-

what a

waste!

A complete troll!"

Who says 'troll' anyway?

Equestrians

...

"He thinks he can just paw his way into my skirt after just

one

drink!" she scoffed.

I couldn't help but point out the obvious. "I thought you wanted him, though..."

Her eyes blinked rapidly. "Well, yeah! But he was such a brute! No finesse, no talent! Just groping me, expecting me to get wet

just

because he's

there!"

My neck tightened at the comment. I could never quite get used to how blasé she was about it. "Oh. Sorry about that."

She was looking at herself in the mirror now, still irritated. Her hands ran over her clothes; straightening out her shirt, smoothing her skirt—as

if

she was still going back out tonight. "Such a waste that the best sex I ever have is when I give it to

myself

," she sighed.

I

almost

blushed at the comment. Whenever she mentions something like that, my mind derails to the

one

time I accidentally walked in on her masturbating on the bed. Her legs were wide open, hips pushed way up off the sheets... she was even

sweating!

It made me wonder if

I

was doing it wrong. It's always so much... tamer for me.

"Maybe I should just go lez," she mused. "They always say a girl knows how to do it better." She turned to face me, and my heart skipped a beat. "Know anyone?" she asked flatly.

I swear, I thought she was going to proposition me right there.

Not

that I wanted her to. But Tara has no shame. It wouldn't really surprise me.

Her shoulders slumped. "

Guh

. What a wasted night." She spun around and looked at herself in the mirror again, pulling a strand of hair behind her ear. "I

really

needed to come tonight, too."

I dropped my eyes back down to the pages of my book. Even little things like that made me feel jealous. She was so honest about what she wanted. I don't know what my hang-up was. I just wished I could be as free as her. Without all of the vain baggage, anyway.

If only I could just let go, a little bit...

Those were my thoughts when it started. I still remember them vividly. What happened next was—well, that's the crazy part. I guess it's all crazy from here. It's like everything slowed down.

Way

down. You know, sort of how it is before you pass out? Everything blurs together like your eyes can't catch up, and you start to hear this ringing in your ears. And like, as soon as it started, I felt like it reached

backward

in time too... God, that probably makes no sense, but... I remember feeling it, and then my thoughts being so heavy in my head.

Then everything faded out... in? To white. It all happened so slow that it wasn't scary. Just a little confusing. Then this weird, high-pitch sound. Like a miniature jet engine speeding way up, and then—POP!

II

I can't explain this. It's so messed up. I brought my hand up to my eyes to try and rub away the whiteness-- to get my vision back. But I couldn't feel myself doing it. Things started to get back into focus anyway and... I was looking down. I realized I was standing up somehow? The surprise stunned me and I reflexively brought my arms out to the dresser to hold myself up. But I still couldn't quite feel it. I mean, literally, I didn't feel like I was touching the wood.

My mind was telling me I was still lying on the bed. I could still

feel

the mattress. It was like I hadn't moved but I was... I was

standing up.

I blinked rapidly and tilted my head up, realizing I was staring confusedly at the floor. I looked at the bed. And there was... uh...

me.

I saw myself leaning forward. Hand on my forehead, eyes crinkled and looking completely confused. "...'s going on?" I managed to murmur. Or at least I thought I did. It was Tara's voice.

"Why can I see myself?"

That

was in my voice. I watched me say it.

Felt

me say it. But it wasn't

me.

I was... I was

standing

in front of me...

watching

me on the bed.

Was I dreaming? Was I dead? Is this what an out-of-body experience feels like? I stared at myself. Stared at myself staring at

me.

"How did I say that?" I mumbled to my "other" self. But it was in Tara's voice again.

"I feel like I'm standing up," it—

she?

— replied to herself.

I shook my head and saw something move out of the corner of my eye. I dragged my gaze around to look at it. It was just the mirror. Double take. I almost passed out right there. It was

Tara's

reflection. I jammed my eyes closed and took a huge breath. I think I might have counted a few seconds to myself, then with a deep inhale, opened my eyes and looked again.

Tara. Looking at me. Looking at myself. Tara's blonde hair. Tara's trendy clothes. Tara's perfect makeup. The only thing that didn't look like her was her expression. Fear. Confusion.

"Mary?" I heard my voice from behind me.

I spun and glared at... myself... nervously. "Wh... what are you?"

"It's me..."

"I'm

me! Who are

you!?"

my voice cracked. Or, I mean,

Tara's

voice cracked.

"

You're

me...

I'm...

What is happening!?" She reached her arms out in front of her and examined them, wrapping her fist around her wrist and rubbing. "I... I can't even feel this..."

I grew dizzy again.

I

could feel it. Looking down at my own wrists—Tara's wrists—nothing was happening. But my brain was telling me what my body was feeling. My hand felt like it was squeezing, and my arm felt like it was being gripped. Yet I was fucking standing there,

watching

it happen.

"Mary?" she croaked.

"I... I feel that on my arm..." I softly said, almost to myself.

"Touch something," she asked.

"Huh?"

"Touch- touch your cheek."

I raised my fingers to my face, flexing my fingers in front of me, amazed at controlling this strange hand.

"I can feel you doing that," my voice called to me strangely.

I brought the fingers to the side of my face. I knew I was doing it... knew I was touching. Intrinsically I knew it was happening. But I didn't

feel

it. I didn't have any of that... sensation.

"Oh my god. I feel

that

too."

"What the fuck..." I whispered.

"Can you... Feel what I'm doing?"

"I... Maybe? Do something different. Touch my... your hair."

Her hand carefully rose to her temple, her fingers separating hair between them, gliding along the scalp and... "Jesus. I feel everything," I muttered.

"Really?" She lowered her hand and looked at her forearm thoughtfully. Then pinched it.

"Ow!" I blurted. "What the hell?" I felt it. I felt my skin slide between my fingertips, and I felt a sharp pinch radiate through my arm. And yet I didn't feel me

do

it. I didn't

do

it. I was just standing there. I was in two places. Does this make

any

sense to you?

I

felt

my body and

moved

Tara's. I know it makes no sense. I can't explain what was happening. Don't ask me why my head didn't just split in two. I should have cracked right there. Gone completely insane. But somehow I was... I don't know. Coping? Somewhere in the back of my brain, I wasn't falling apart.

"Tara," I breathed.

"Yeah...?"

"What happened to us?"

III

We were both sitting on the bed. There were more tentative questions to each other. To ourselves. Neither of us could explain it. And yet we weren't shrieking or crying or freaking out. We were just sort of confused. Interested. Calm.

"I totally feel like I'm high, or something," she said with

my

voice.

"Huh?"

"The slowness. The floating feeling. You know?"

"Oh. I guess, uh- guess not."

I saw her roll my eyes. "How could I forget, you've never done it."

A twinge of irritation. "Well I don't like this feeling anyway..."

"Hmm," she reflected to herself.

"Should we... tell someone?"

She scrunched her face. "Tell them

what?"

"That... that... uh..."

"We just gotta figure out how to get back to- to normal."

I stared blankly. "How do we do that?" I couldn't help but notice I asked so sincerely, like I really thought she had the answer.

"Let's..." she thought for a moment. "Let's try touching each

other

."

"Um. Okay."

We both sort of tentatively reached our hands out, slowing down the closer we got to each other. Like we were

certain

this was going to accomplish something. We spread our fingers out, then with held breath, interlocked them with one another.

It was confusing. For a brief second, I thought maybe it was working. But I realized that since we were doing the same thing, we would each feel something similar. "I... I don't know if it's doing anything," I doubted.

"Yeah... here," she pulled her hands away. "Put my palm out."

I blinked at the odd request and made to grab her wrist. She yanked her hand away. "I mean

my

palm. The- the one

you're

moving!"

"Oh! Sorry..." I turned my wrist and held my hand face-up.

She held my forearm with one hand, then used the other to trace little circles on my palm with her fingertip. She giggled. "This tickles... I'm- I'm tickling myself!"

I didn't feel it on my palm at all. I felt the sensation of

my

finger twirling on skin. "This is so weird," I half-whispered.

She stopped. "I know... I can't believe this... Here, turn around!"

"Why?"

"Just do it!" she prodded.

I scrunched my forehead and started to turn reluctantly. She immediately propped herself up on her knees to get closer to me, then started to scratch my back. I felt my fingers rake on the fabric of the shirt I was wearing.

"So

weird!" she breathed. "I'm totally scratching my own back! Do you

feel

this?"

"I... I feel my fingers."

"This is

crazy!

I can reach all

over!"

she ran her hands across my back. "It feels

sooo

good!"

I just sort of sat there, letting her do it. What was I supposed to do? Before I knew it, she started lifting up the hem of the shirt behind me. "What are you...?"

"I wanna feel it on my skin!" she chirped.

I didn't understand why she was so... I dunno...

okay

with this. So

curious.

And just like that, her hands—

my

hands—were caressing behind me.

"Mmm...

this is so...

cool..."

she said almost in a daze. "I could like, give myself a massage even."

"Tara... I don't- I don't think this is helping."

"Relax, it feels good..."

"Um- maybe for

you

, but, uh..."

She suddenly interrupted me with a laugh.

"What is it?" I asked, anxiously craning my neck around.

"Looking at you... from behind like this! I'm- I'm like, checking

myself

out! Like I've never been able to before!"

"You're joking," I scoffed.

"No way! Here, stand up!" and she was already getting off the bed.

"Tara, this is stupid!"

She was grabbing me by the shoulders and pulling me toward her. "Come on!"

"We should be... should be trying to figure out... Um..." but I was being dragged along anyway. So surreal. Feeling

me

haul this other body up to her feet.

"Here, stand in front of the mirror," our bodies being pushed over to the dresser. "God, move your feet, Mary! You're making me feel clumsy!"

"You're making me feel pushy!" I retorted back.

"So weird... Don't even know how I can stand up like this," she mumbled inwardly.

I was staring at the mirror now. Looking at Tara's reflection, staring back at me. And seeing

my

reflection standing behind, wearing a crooked, odd smile. A few silent moments passed, and I became increasingly uncomfortable.

Especially

seeing myself as

her.

"Happy now?" I asked flatly.

She was gawking at her body with my eyes. A little chuckled from her lips. "If only I could do this whenever buying clothes. Jesus!"

I rolled my eyes, and suddenly felt even stupider as she blurted out, "Oh-my-god! I can feel you making me blush!

Weird!"

"God, Tara. This is—I don't know. I think I should sit back down..."

Completely disregarding me, she brought her hands to my side, pulling the shirt I was wearing against me. She tugged it backward a little, making it tighten around my chest. I had no idea how to react. I felt idiotic, just standing there, being appraised... It wasn't even really my body. And I didn't

feel

it, you know? I just felt my hands pulling at cotton.

Suddenly I felt my palms being run along the skirt. I could see it happening in the mirror, and I made a little gasp. I was cupping another girl's

ass.

It felt so... what's the word?

Alien.

And I thought I was helpless to do anything about it. Until I realized I could just step away from her. But no sooner did I move my foot, she piped up.