Don’t mimic me

— Don’t mimic me... — mumbled Francis through clenched teeth, glaring at Stacy from under his brow. He tried to focus, but the feeling of bra straps digging into his shoulders and the unfamiliar weight on his chest were throwing all his thoughts off track. God, it wasn’t supposed to turn out like this…

— I’m not trying to! — Stacy exclaimed angrily, though a second ago her face had been expressionless, betraying no emotions. Clearly, she wasn’t happy with any of this either. Some guy she’d barely met a few times now had a body identical to hers! And now he was trying to tell her what to do?!

— Calm down, girls, calm down, — came the calm yet authoritative voice of Dr. Jacobson, who was sitting nearby, trying to figure out how this had happened.

— Girls?! — Francis squealed, his voice jumping up a couple of octaves, making the situation even more ridiculous. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, as if hoping that when he opened them, everything would go back to normal.

— Calm down?! — Stacy repeated with a similarly high-pitched tone, though slightly differently.

Dr. Jacobson raised his hands, trying to calm the growing tension with a gesture.

— Quiet, quiet, quiet... — he started again, spreading his hands in a placating manner. — I understand how difficult this is for both of you right now...

— Difficult?! — Stacy stomped her foot, her face flushing red. — He… he’s copying everything I do! And this, — she pointed sharply at Francis, her finger trembling, — isn’t just some glitch or program error, Doctor. This… this is creepy!

— I’m not copying! — Francis shouted, furiously waving his hands, trying to sound firm. He stomped his foot in the exact same way Stacy had a moment ago, and his finger instinctively pointed at her. — She...

— See?! — Stacy exclaimed, her face distorted with a mix of anger and fear. — You’re copying me, damn it! Even now! — She took a sharp step back, trying not to look at Francis, but caught a glimpse of him taking the same step, his movements mirroring her own. — This isn’t normal!

— I... I’m not doing it on purpose! — Francis shouted, his voice breaking into a nervous shriek. He froze, afraid to make another move, not wanting to provoke her even more. — I don’t know why this is happening!

— Because you’re some kind of… — Stacy gasped in frustration, her chest heaving, and to her horror, Francis’s — her copy — began rising and falling at the same rhythm. — Are you mocking me?! Trying to drive me insane?

— Enough! — Dr. Jacobson intervened, slamming his palms on the table. The sound echoed off the walls, and they both fell silent instantly, almost in sync, and looked at him with identical expressions. He clenched his jaw, staring at them intensely, his gaze stern. — The synchronization has reached a critical level. You’re literally mirroring each other’s movements and emotions.

— What does that mean?! — they both shouted simultaneously, then froze, exchanging furious glances when they realized they had spoken in unison.

— It means, — Dr. Jacobson began slowly, — that every action, thought, or even emotion from one of you is instantly perceived by the other. You are two identical copies, linked on a conscious and physical level.

— And what are we... — Francis paused, letting Stacy finish the sentence.

— …supposed to do? — Stacy burst out, her voice trembling as her gaze darted between Francis and the doctor. — I’m not going to be someone’s reflection! — She shook her head desperately, her hair flying up, and, as if on cue, Francis repeated the gesture, his face twisting into the same grimace of rage.

— I’m not going to either! — he echoed, then clenched his teeth furiously, realizing he had just mimicked her again. — Damn it!

— Stop it! — Dr. Jacobson barked, rubbing his temples tiredly. — Please, listen to me, both of you. Right now, any resistance is only increasing the synchronization. The more you try to assert your independence, the stronger the connection becomes. You need to calm down and stop resisting.

— Stop resisting? — Stacy shot him a skeptical look. — Are you serious?! This… this freak is copying my thoughts, my movements, even my breathing! I can’t even blink without seeing him do the same thing! How am I supposed to tolerate this?!

— Yes! — Francis supported her, glaring at his own reflection with hatred. — I feel what she feels, for God’s sake! This... this is madness! — He ran his hands through his hair frantically, then froze, noticing that Stacy had made the exact same motion. — See? I didn’t even want to do that! It just… happens!

— That’s because your minds are interconnected, — Dr. Jacobson explained, taking a deep breath. — The more you try to separate from each other, the more the connection strengthens. You need to learn to work together to reduce the level of synchronization. Otherwise… you risk being stuck in this state forever.

— Forever?! — Stacy and Francis exchanged horrified looks, their expressions mirroring the same emotion — terror.

— I’m not joking, — Dr. Jacobson confirmed grimly. — Right now, every gesture, every word, even every feeling — is a signal that transmits to the other. You need to learn to separate them, to control them.

— And how are we supposed to do that?! — Stacy threw her hands up, gesturing desperately, and Francis repeated the gesture, clenching and unclenching his fingers exactly as she did.

— Calm down, — the doctor said again, and his voice softened. — To start… sit down.

They froze, staring at each other tensely. Then, reluctantly, they moved towards the chairs and sat down. Both settled into identical positions, crossing their legs and placing their hands on their knees, without even realizing they were doing it together.

— Good, — Dr. Jacobson nodded slowly. — Just sit there and try to feel your own body, focus on your breathing, and try not to think about each other, — he finished, watching the two nervous, completely identical girls in front of him.

Stacy and Francis sat silently, trying not to move or look at each other. Their gazes darted around the room, then settled on the doctor, and they both sighed simultaneously. The doctor had to suppress a smile — it looked so synchronized, it seemed as if they had rehearsed every movement beforehand.

— Your experiment is a load of crap! What am I supposed to tell my husband?! — they both burst out at the same time, their voices merging into one outraged exclamation. Realizing what had just happened, Francis’s eyes widened in shock, and he quickly covered his mouth with his hand, trying to stifle the rising panic.

— Damn it! — they gasped in unison, freezing instantly, realizing they had said it together again. The panic on their faces was almost mirror-like, as if there was just one reflection in the room instead of two separate people.

— See what I mean? — Dr. Jacobson continued calmly, holding their attention. — This is synchronization at the speech level. A little more — and your thoughts will start to merge as well.

— This can’t be… — Stacy whispered, her voice almost pleading, and her eyes filled with fear. — I don’t want… to be… like him!

— I don’t want to be like her! — Francis echoed, his face contorting in horror. — Damn it, I don’t even know her! And why the hell am I thinking about pregnancy...

— Pregnancy?! — Stacy turned sharply, her face flushing with outrage and, possibly, shame. — What the hell, Francis?!

Francis helplessly spread his hands, then crossed them again, mirroring her exact posture. Seeing this, he muttered, cursing himself, "Damn, damn, damn..." He barely managed to keep it together. Why, every time he tried to break free from this trap, did his body seem to obey her desires? As if… he wasn’t himself?

— I don’t know! — he practically squealed, his voice trembling. — It’s… I didn’t want to think about it! It just… happened. I don’t even understand what’s going on!

— You... — Stacy narrowed her eyes, her anger mixed with panic. — You… are reading my thoughts? — Her voice broke into a whisper. Thoughts. The most private, most personal thoughts she was afraid to admit even to herself… now they were exposed to this… this impostor in her body.

They froze, staring at each other with horror and disgust. Suddenly, they both smirked simultaneously and looked at each other.

— Oh yes... that would be amusing... — they both said with a smile. — He’s always wanted a threesome.

— What?! — Stacy’s eyes widened. — I never thought about that! That! That’s your damn perversion! Those are your thoughts! You want to screw my husband and do it... — she blushed and started breathing rapidly, pacing back and forth.

— I… Me?! — Francis immediately started pacing back and forth as well, copying Stacy’s movements. Every uneven breath, every twitch now looked identical, and he realized that these had really been his long-standing fantasies, and it seemed that Stacy was now also getting his desires, thoughts merging into some kind of single mind.