Seems Like It’s Starting...

Leaning against the cold glass of the passenger window, I felt a chill seep through the thin fabric of my shirt. It was already 11:58 on the clock, and we were just pulling up to a gas station on Route 60 — a small, shabby spot with a single pump and a tiny shop, where, according to someone I knew, we might find that same woman who “saw something strange” a couple of days ago. This is where we ended up after aimlessly circling the city, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Swapping bodies — yeah, total nonsense, but that wasn’t even the worst part. It was those... glitches, the random weirdness. They were messing with my head.

— Alright, we’re almost there, — she muttered in my male voice, though I probably should’ve gotten used to that after a week in this body. Throwing a glance at me, she added, — Hope this chick even exists.

But I kept staring at the clock, and of course, Emily noticed and immediately did the same.

— Two minutes till noon, — she said with a tense smirk, shivering slightly, like she felt the same chill that had just stabbed through me. — Wonder who it’ll hit this time?

And that was the truth. Neither of us knew how this worked, but every twelve hours, one of us — or sometimes both — would get hit. Like someone flipped a damn switch and it came — a wave of heat, desire, heaviness low in the belly, like someone inside was cranking the libido dial to max, turning everything unbearably sensual and weirdly... irritating. Totally random. No warnings. No logic. Like a curse. Maybe it actually was a curse — we just didn’t know from who or where.

— Stop here, — I said, feeling something shaky creep into my voice, like my nerves were already bracing for it. Noon, after all.

Emily jerked the wheel, and we parked off to the side of the pump, next to a crooked sign with peeling letters that read “Marti’s Gas & Goods.”

— Maybe it’ll pass us this time?... — she mumbled, cutting the engine and throwing a quick glance at the rearview mirror, like it might show some kind of warning about what was coming. — Yeah. Let’s wait it out...

I nodded, tucking a lock of long hair behind my ear — hair I already wanted to chop off, and I would’ve, if not for... her. Emily. I knew how much those curls meant to her. Some stupid, almost childish stubbornness wouldn’t let her forgive me if I cut it while we were stuck like this. And it didn’t matter that right now that mane was my headache. Literally. It was technically my hair now, and we had no idea how long we’d be stuck in each other’s bodies.

I dropped my hand and slowly exhaled. Right at the moment when the hands of the dashboard clock locked into ruthless alignment — 12:00. The body reacted immediately.

Heat. No, not heat — fire. It poured into my lower belly, rising, spreading across my back, my chest. Everything felt sticky, tight, too much. The shirt instantly became unbearable, rubbing against my skin, irritating me, especially around the nipples, which were suddenly insanely sensitive. The jeans felt way too tight, so tight I wanted to tear them off right then and there. I shifted in my seat and instantly felt it — it had started.

— Fuck... — slipped out in a whisper before I could clamp a hand over my mouth.

Emily was already staring at me, leaning over from the driver’s seat. Her eyes narrowed, and her face twisted a little.

— You again... This is the third time in a row, Martin, — Emily hissed, reaching for the keys and immediately clicking the lock. — You're not going anywhere. This time, we’re sticking to the plan. Got it?

Pissing me off. Why the hell is she talking like that? Like it’s my damn fault that when this hits, my brain just shuts down and I need... need someone to fuck me — hard enough to forget how to move, how to breathe, how to speak.

I turned away, pressing my forehead to the cool glass. It didn’t help. The heat kept crawling through my body, filling it up, wrapping around my thighs, and between them — something had already started pulsing, unbearable. Dense. Demanding. I tried to fight it off, squeezing my eyes shut and starting to count. Just count. To a hundred. Hold it together. One. Two. Three. Four…

— Fiv… fii… fu—dick! — I gasped through clenched teeth and then slapped a hand over my mouth in shock. I couldn’t focus on anything. The thought hit hard and clear: ‘If only he pulled his dick out and stood right between my legs…’ — Fuck... I need a cock so bad.

Emily, who had turned toward the back seat, rummaging through something with nervous hands, snapped her head back. Her eyes widened like a teacher catching you smoking in the bathroom.

— What did you just say?! — she flared, almost panicked, but caught herself. Took a deep breath, pressed her palms to her temples. — Okay... It’s fine. It’s under control. You’re just... you’re not you. It’s the body. It’s in charge. Breathe.

I was trying to keep it together, holding on as hard as I could, but it was fucking impossible. My leg, like on autopilot, slipped to the side, knee hitting the glovebox, the other stretching out — and just like that, I was sitting there like I was begging someone to get between my legs and do something. Anything. I gasped. The air felt thick. I was wearing these goddamn jeans, and the fabric rubbing in the crotch had me right on the edge of moaning. I felt sweat trickling down my back, my nipples lighting up like electric shocks through the shirt. My whole body had turned into a live wire, a twitchy, hysterical mess of arousal, like someone had flipped a switch inside me — without asking.

— Ohhh, yes... if someone just got in... right now… — it came out as a purr, and I yanked at my collar to kill the filthy tone, but my mouth — fuck — it wouldn’t listen. — You could. You could take me right here... hard... like a cheap dirty slut, huh, cowboy!?

— Shut up! — Emily hissed like a wounded snake, still digging through the bag on the back seat, and I could hear the crinkling of plastic wrappers, tight as our nerves. She knew there wasn’t much time left, that in another second I’d bust the door open, throw myself on someone — the first person I saw — choking on the wave that was already drowning everything human in me.

— Where is it... where the fuck... come on! — her fingers clutched at some fabric, then a plastic tube, and finally she pulled it out — long, dark purple, shiny, still sealed in blister plastic, like a cursed trophy at the end of a quest. — Got it! — she breathed out and immediately grabbed a small tube of lube, tearing the cap off with her teeth.

But I was already reaching — not with my mind, but with my body. My mouth, the pulsing want between my legs, this stupid, sprawled-out position in the passenger seat — it was all out of my control. I leaned toward her, slowly, like through fog, and my lips touched her neck. Warm, smelling of her lotion, her skin felt like salvation, and I pressed into it with my mouth, breathing her in with pleasure.

— What are you… — she flinched, losing her grip for a moment. Her hand jerked with the dildo, and the toy brushed against my cheek. I snatched it — hungry, like it was bread after starvation — and without thinking, ran my tongue over the plastic head, slowly, eyes closed, like it really was the dick I was aching for.

— Better be yours... — I breathed, staring into her eyes with a kind of crazed bliss, licking my lips. — Hard. Hot. Yours, Em.

— Fuck this! — she groaned, and ducking out of the car, slammed the door so hard I nearly jumped. Then came the lock — click — and I was stuck inside, locked in like some goddamn caged animal.

— Hey! Where the hell are you going?! — I shouted — no, squealed — like some scared little girl who just had her candy stolen. My hands yanked at the door handle, frantic, but of course it was already locked. Locked. I was trapped. And not just in a metal box — in a body that was about to explode if someone didn’t fuck it properly.

Outside, Emily was pacing back and forth in front of the hood, clutching the shiny blister pack like it wasn’t a dildo wrapper but a fucking bomb counting down. She’d stop, grab her head, then march again — all in this frantic, jerky rhythm, like a full-blown panic dance.

— You’re just gonna leave me here alone?! — I screamed from inside, pressing up against the glass. — Do you even get that I’m about to fucking die, Emily?! Die, goddammit, from cock withdrawal!

She stopped, snapped her head toward me, and pointed straight at that same dildo lying there beside me on the seat.

— Right there! That! Just fucking do it! — she spat through her teeth, eyes burning with some insane mix of rage and panic. — You know damn well if I let you out right now — you’ll snap. You’ll throw yourself at that trucker, or anyone with a dick who looks at you for more than three seconds. And then it’ll be the same meltdown again. We had a deal, Martin. If it hits — you stay in the car and deal with it yourself. That’s it. That’s. The. Plan.

I stared at her, blinking like I didn’t understand a damn word. But I did. Oh, I did. Too well. My stomach was already curling with this... tension. My body started sliding along the seat on its own, until I slouched down a little, giving myself more space, feeling how the denim pressed right up against my clit, teasing, provoking, driving me insane.

— You seriously think this... — I glanced at the dildo, shining in its blister like some neon sign in the night, — is gonna replace... the real thing?

— Right now — yes. Just do it, Martin, please — she stepped closer, rested her forehead against the hood, breathing deep and tight, like she was barely keeping herself from breaking down.

I didn’t let her finish — the wave hit again, warm and overwhelming, and I whimpered, head falling back as everything inside twisted up tight like a spring. I shoved my hand between my legs, over the fabric — god, it was almost painful. And sweet. And needed. I wanted to rip the jeans off, tear my shirt open, be left only in this heat, this pulsing hunger, in bare, trembling skin soaked in lust. I looked at her, licking my lips slowly.

— Don’t you wanna... just climb in and take me, Em? — I whispered, fingers brushing lightly over my breasts through the shirt, nipples aching to break free. — Right here. So we’ll remember it.

— Christ, even your voice... the way you say that — she moaned, not looking away. — But no. Not this time.

I grabbed the dildo and ran the tip along the inside of my thigh — cold, rubbery, not mine, but right now the only option I had. I shuddered at the touch, too intense even through the fabric, and bit my lip. Everything inside me was screaming. I needed something in me. Right now.

— I want you to watch — I whispered, locking eyes with her. — I want you to see me spreading my legs and... — I hesitated, my tongue sticking from the heat. — And fucking myself, because you didn’t let me get fucked for real.

— Jesus, what a fucking mess — said Emily, turning her back to me and grabbing her head, storming away from the car. And I watched her, desperate, with that cursed dildo in my hand, and it felt like the cruelest joke the universe ever played on me — like they were offering dirt to someone starving for a real, hot meal...