Sandy and Cody

Part 1

— Th-this isn’t f-f-funny at a-a-all... yik! — the girl stammered, breathless with anxiety, her voice trembling as she stood on the bed and clumsily pulled off the tight light-blue top. Her hand was shaking, the movements awkward, but that didn’t stop her heavy, almost leaden breasts from spilling out of the tight fabric prison — they bounced in the air like they were alive, her wet nipples painfully reacting to the change in temperature.

Chase swallowed involuntarily, his gaze locking onto her tits, and his cock stiffened again, even though everything inside him screamed — ‘Don’t look!’ But how could he not, when right in front of him was this fine-boned, fragile, almost doll-like woman, sitting on the bed in a tiny skirt and no top.

— I... I can feel them moving — she whispered, swaying slightly and looking down at her breasts like they weren’t even part of her, but some living creature stuck to her body. — Is this... gonna be like this forever? They... they jiggle like they’re mocking me!

— Y-you wanna maybe put that back on? — Chase blurted, voice cracking as he looked away, like that would somehow erase what had just happened from his memory. — I... uh... feel kinda weird, — he added, immediately mentally facepalming. ‘Weird?! She literally sucked me off the second I got here and now she’s got her tits out, what the fuck do you mean "weird"?!’

She pressed her palms to her boobs, lifting them slightly like she was trying to make sure they were real, that this wasn’t some twisted nightmare. Her fingers reflexively curled under the weight of the soft flesh. The skin beneath them was hypersensitive, her nipples tightening, and a light tremor answered from deep in her belly.

— Fucking hell — she hissed through clenched teeth, covering her chest with one hand while bracing against the edge of the bed with the other. — They’re... they’re sensi-... Yo... sensitive! Fuck! — She turned to Chase with panic in her eyes. — This shit, these fucking tits, and this body! I... fuck, why the hell am I so drunk?! I’m supposed to be on... yik! On the fucking ring!

She smacked the mattress with her palm like it was to blame for her humiliating transformation, let out a heavy sigh, and swayed as she lowered her legs off the side, as if trying to feel solid ground for even a second — at least in terms of sensation. But instead, her heels hit the cold floor, her body shivered, her breasts bounced, and she gasped again without meaning to.

— What the fuck is this... — she muttered, running her hand down her thigh — smooth, hairless. — My fucking legs look like... like those damn Insta fitness bitches... God, why me?!

Her voice broke into a raspy moan — not from pain, but from growing panic. She sniffled, ran her fingers through hair that was too silky, too well-groomed, and suddenly felt a strand stick to her sweaty cheek.

— Am I fucking stuck like this now?! — burst from her lips, her voice high, thin, on the verge of shrieking. — Why do I even cry like some reality show whore?!

— Hey, hey... calm down, don’t panic — Chase mumbled, raising his hands uncertainly, like he was expecting her to throw that whiskey bottle lying under the bed at him any second. — We just... uh... let’s try to remember, okay?

Part 2

He wasn’t in the best shape himself. His head was pounding, his body felt like cotton, and only the scent of women’s perfume, cigarettes, and the sweetish smell of sweat with a hint of vanilla seemed to anchor him here. He tried to focus — what had happened before this? He was... working. Yeah. Spreadsheets, numbers, corporate chat, office coffee that smelled like plastic and disappointment.

– I was at the office – he mumbled, staring somewhere through her – and then... a flash, like something exploded inside my skull. And then... this weird discharge... and I’m already here, bottle in hand, and you… well, you’re down there and…

He fell silent as she suddenly jerked her head toward him, her tits bouncing with the motion, and her glare full of fury.

– S**g your dick!? – her voice cracked into a shriek, and she immediately winced, like she’d been shocked. – What the fuck are you even remembering that for, I... yik! Fuck, what the hell is this shit?! I’m in the body of some fucking escort, drunk off my ass, s***g the cock of some fucking idiot I don’t even know, and now... now we’re talking about it like it’s normal!?

She clutched her head, squeezing it as hard as she could. Her soft, silky hair slipped through her fingers and brushed her shoulders. That tiny movement made her breasts bounce again — and she felt everything all over. The weight, the heat, the friction, the cold air on her wet nipples. Everything too vivid, too real.

– I don’t even remember how the fuck I got here – she sobbed – there was something… I was in the ring, I was sparring. I’m a champion, I told you that, right?! A fucking middleweight boxing champ! I... yik! I remember standing there, and th-then — like a hit! But not to the face, inside... like someone punched through my bones. And I...

Her face darkened.

– ...and then I was here. Tits. Booze. And I’m kneeling like some whore with your dick in my mouth, Chase. AAAAAHH!! – She smacked her thigh, leaving a red mark. – I can’t even remember my parents’ names, nothing! No friends, no address, no numbers! Just fragments. Fuck, I’m not even sure my name was David. What if I wasn’t even real?

– Yeah-yeah, it’s all a blur. I don’t remember shit either, my life’s like random scenes from some TV show – Chase said hoarsely, watching her – But maybe... maybe if we try... something simple. A phone number, maybe. You had a phone, right?

– Yeah, yeah – she bit her lip, almost moaning at the feeling of those plump, cartoonish lips, the bite felt almost erotic. – Fuck… wait… lemme try…

She stood up — wobbling, like her legs were made of cotton, like she didn’t know where her knees or heels were — and shuffled over to the purse on the nightstand like a confused doll. Small, beige, lacquered, with a dumb gold chain. Her fingers instinctively — and disturbingly confidently — found the zipper. Opened it. Pulled out a pink iPhone case with a heart and the words “Princess inside”.

– Oh my God... – she exhaled, almost in tears – What the actual fuck is this vomit taste?..

– Just... try to dial – Chase said – maybe something will come back.

Part 3

She dialed the first number that came to mind — David’s best friend’s, or at least she thought it was. Her fingers were shaking, but not from fear — more from the booze.

Ringing.

– Hello? – a sultry, slightly raspy female voice answered.

– H-hi. I... this is David. I mean... – she stumbled. – I mean I... I’m not sure...

– Sweetie, if you got wasted with Gina again, maybe this time you shouldn’t have gone s**g every guy in sight, huh? – the woman drawled lazily, like she was tired of getting calls like this. – Do you even know where you are? Or are you in Ben’s trailer again?

– Ben who?! – she shrieked, then immediately shrank into herself, clutching her head. – I... I just wanted... I thought this was my friend’s number...

– Uh-huh. They’re all "friends," our clients – the woman scoffed. – Sober the fuck up! You sound like Sammy in withdrawal. You’re not with that cowboy of yo—

The line went dead.

She stared at the blank screen. Silence stretched out for several long seconds. Only the hum of the trailer’s fridge in the corner, a fly ticking somewhere under the bed, and in her head it pounded: "Sammy? Gina? Ben? I know them... Sammy — that’s... my client. The one who always asks me to wear the cowboy hat and call him ‘Sheriff’. Gina — my neighbor, older whore, always with a cigarette and leopard-print leggings. And Ben... oh god, Ben — that loser who paid me just to listen to him cry about his ex-wife. I... I lived with them. We were in a trailer park, right... I was, I am — some kind of local star... a slut. A whore. A cheap piece of trash, but with a reputation."

– I... I’m Sandy... – she said it like a sentence, her lips twitching like the name itself was spitting. – My name is Sandy. Fuck, I’m Sandy! – She hiccuped, and even that sounded fake-glamorous. – I was... no, I am. Sandy. I work here, I... I wanted... – she swayed like from a hit, then suddenly burst into drunken, almost hysterical laughter. – Wanted to hustle that cowboy! You! – She jabbed a finger in Chase’s direction, and he flinched.

– Sandy? – Chase repeated, and something in his voice shifted, like an old, rusted door had been kicked open.

He swayed, sank onto the edge of the bed, fingers locking together like he was trying to stop them from shaking. And then... it hit. Not like a clear picture, not like a movie — more like someone was pouring something into his head — foreign thoughts, foreign memories, foreign desires.

– My name is... Cody. Cody Hunt. Yeah... I was a trucker. Lived around here. And, fuck... I came to see you, Sandy. A lot. I knew you. Not just as a client – his voice cracked, there was a kind of tiredness in it, like he was exhausted from himself – I knew you always charged less if someone left you bourbon. You always said you wanted out of this life. Said you wanted to move to Austin. Get a dog, fuck. Open a pie café where no one would grab your ass and ask for a “quick one in the car.” And I...

Part 4

He squeezed his eyes shut.

– I wanted to help you get out. But I was a fucking coward. Every time I just paid to be near you. Just to talk. Then I’d get back in my damn truck. And now...

He looked up, and there was something new in his eyes. Something that used to belong to a different man. A lonely, miserable drifter.

– ...now I’m in the body of your client, Sandy. In the body of the guy you just sucked off. – He exhaled sharply, disgusted by his own words. – And goddamn it, you still look like the woman I wanted to save. Even... I don’t know why, but I want to. I feel it — I want to.

Sandy sat on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest, her boobs awkwardly pressed to her thigh, nearly spilling out from under her elbow. She was sobbing — but it wasn’t just panic anymore. It was something more. Recognition. Shock. The alcohol was still doing its work during this moment of revelation.

– You... you always said I was special. Even when I was blackout drunk – she whispered. – You brought me bourbon when I was on my period and no one else came around. You even left cash under the door when I asked so no one would know I was off the rails. You were... you were sweet.

Cody — or whoever he was now — ran a hand over his face. It was older than Chase’s, rougher. He could feel the stubble prickling on his cheeks. None of this was his. And even the fucking boner he had looking at Sandy — it wasn’t his either. It just happened, like a reflex of the body, disconnected from the brain. Like the fact that it was Sandy — not just some half-n***d girl — triggered it, even though inside, all he felt was shame.

– We’re both not us. – He looked at Sandy. – But maybe we can still get out. Out of this trailer. Out of these lives. Out of these fucking bodies.

She snorted. Smiled, despite everything.

– Well, if you really are Cody Hunt... then driving shouldn’t be a problem. Maybe take us somewhere we don’t have to suck dick for fifty bucks? – and then she hiccuped, grabbing her boobs again like she just remembered this shit was real.

– Let me get dressed first, yeah? My nipples are hard like ice cream cones from the fucking cold.

He couldn’t help it. Smirked.

– They were always like that. I remember.

She looked at him, and for a second — just one — there was something in her eyes. Something like tenderness. Or regret. Or... maybe hope.

– And then, Cody, you’re gonna tell me everything. All of it. Even what you don’t remember. Because I swear, if I’ve gotta live with these tits, with this fucking hair, with this vaginal itch that I’m already starting to feel... – she pointed at him – then at least one of us better fucking know what to do next.

He nodded.

And silence fell over the room once more.