Cat massaged her bruised hand. The hard angry reddish-purple swollen lump where the IV stayed for months refused to disappear and was the fourth worst itch she felt since waking up in Catherine’s former body. At least it was now free from any foreign implants of the secular nature, the ghost sharing her head notwithstanding. Staring at the still foreign face in the bathroom mirror, she tried to get used to it by doing some faces, smiles, and expressions. It drew no reaction from said face’s former owner.
“What troubles your mind so, Catherine?” She asked her other-self.
She found that talking to her soul-tenant while looking in the mirror helped put a face to the disembodied voice.
“I’m eager to leave the hospital too. It’s not like we still need to stay here now. Even the IV came out.”
Cat had to recognize that yes, she was. It was hard not to. Catherine was attractive, and she was ridiculously curious to explore her new female body. Instead of answering, she just nodded to the mirror.
That was also true. Catherine was bound to the body’s physical sensations but had no control over them. She got angry, sad, happy, or in the current situation, horny whenever Cat did. To the disembodied girl, it felt odd and at times exciting or infuriating. Catherine was getting used to it and she once described it as just letting go in a rollercoaster.
Cat pressed her thighs together and squirmed. It stimulated her and sent some pleasurable waves up her body, warming her up. Her nipples stood up and she stared at her reflection with a sultry face. Staring at the mirror, she imagined Catherine in front of her but it didn’t increase her arousal. Cat looked down and rubbed her breasts over the double layer of hospital gown and bra, the tin fabrics doing little to dull the sensations.
Her body felt ridiculously sensitive. Cat ran a hand over the gown and felt as it passed over the band of her panties. She crested the top of her mound and paused, relishing on little shocks as she pushed down against the untamed forest that grew unchecked in these months. She became keenly aware of something between a tingle and an itch at where she assumed her vagina was. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling. Slowly, she withdrew her hand.
“Sorry. I don’t think I can do it in the hospital. Can I save it for when we get back home? I don’t think I can hold back if I start it, and someone may come in at any time.” Cat heard a warbling moan from her mind-mate. “You okay there, mate?”
“I know what you mean.”
Cat clicked her tongue and stared seriously at the mirror, “No, no. Don’t go down that hole.” Catherine grunted at her unwitting pun. “The reason is simple. I don’t have the emotional baggage you gathered your whole life holding me back. And I think I like girls more than you did.”
Catherine confessed.
“Boys?”
“Can we talk about it?” Cat asked carefully. “I know it’s painful for you, but we have an upcoming cross-examination statement with the defendant’s lawyer. I need to know what to say.”
Cat poked her mirror-self’s nose. “Don’t be so down. We survived so far. Once we finish our physical therapy and get discharged, we’ll have a long and happy life ahead of us. Together.”
----------------------------------------
“There’s going to be a party at a mansion in Long Island this Friday,” one of Catherine’s friends said as they got out of school and into the parking lot to wait for their drivers. “Are you coming?”
“Lots of hot boys will be there,” another girl teased as she locked arms with Catherine. “You never go to the parties, Cathy. You must go to this one. You need to have some fun while you’re young!”
“Right!” The first one grinned as she grabbed the other arm. “It’s going to be a lot of fun!”
“My mo...” Catherine started but clamped her mouth shut right after, regretting even the thought of it.
“You’re an adult now!” The teasing one said. “You can do whatever you want!” She added in a whisper, “Even drink with us, it’s not like we’ll tell anyone.”
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
“Don’t push her, Sophia. Catherine can make her own mind. You’re going to make her feel bad.”
“No, you’re right. I’m an adult now. I’ll go.”
The other two giggled, “Then it’s a date.”
Friday, she took an Uber to the mansion after making sure she looked her best. She regretted it immediately because she was overdressed for the occasion. She put on the same kind of clothes and accessories she used to go with her mom to those fancy charity fundraisers and parties Mrs. Wallenstein liked so much while everyone was wearing comfortable yet fashionable clothes for dancing.
It made her stand out like a sore thumb. Her tight dress made her skip dancing and Catherine resigned herself to wallflower in a corner. She got thirsty and found the party had only alcoholic beverages. No water whatsoever unless she resigned to drink straight from the tap. Even the ice was made of vodka. Already regretting it, she took the least alcoholic drink she could find and slowly sipped from it.
Her friends arrived fashionably late. Finding Catherine sulking alone, they quickly moved to push the girl out of her shell. Eventually, she agreed to dance with the two and some guys approached them, splitting them into three couples. The guy that picked her to dance was the owner of the mansion, she later learned.
Between songs, he took her outside next to the pool, crowded with naked people swimming and making out. The smell of marijuana and vaping assaulted her nostrils and made her queasy. Completely unused to alcohol, the few drinks she had were going straight to her head. And the sight of so many naked bodies rubbing against one another in the pool was making her uncomfortable.
“Are you okay?” He asked, concerned.
“No. I don’t feel so well,” she admitted.
“You look starved,” he stated with a bright smile. “Wanna raid the kitchen?”
She could eat something. Catherine followed his lead to the kitchen and gobbled some tiny tuna sandwiches from a tray while they made small talk.
The guy was the heir to a mid-sized hotel chain and some other travel-related companies. He played football as an offensive lineman, had a sports scholarship lined up, and made Catherine’s neck hurt to maintain eye contact. She estimated the guy could easily weigh more than five times her weight. He was attractive and well-built but she felt stuck with him. The guy was too shallow and too grabby as he used every opportunity to touch her. She didn’t want to sound rude to the party host but she’d already brushed his hand off of her a few times.
“Want something to drink?” He offered.
“Juice?”
“Sure thing, Cathy. Why don’t you sit over there while I make it?” He kindly offered.
Thankful for finally having something to drink and to get off her feet (the high heels were killing her feet), Catherine almost slouched on the couch. Almost as she was still mindful of her manners. The guy returned with a cup of guava juice that was a bit too sweet for her taste. She still downed it completely. The guy sat next to her, almost causing her to be launched from the couch as her seat seesawed from his weight. They talked a bit more about inane rich-people stuff, the same kind of conversation that almost caused her to sleep at every single of her mother’s parties.
She wanted to go home. Once she gathered the strength to say so, the guy smiled and held her back.
“You’re not going anywhere. You won't make it back to Englewood before dawn, look,” he flicked his phone alive and showed her the traffic map. “There's no way out of Long Island by land. Traffic is dead all over Manhattan and New Jersey because of an accident on the 42nd near Lincoln Tunnel. A runaway fuel truck killed a lot of people and set several blocks on fire. People were even talking about a terrorist attack and several of them are going to crash here. You should grab a guest room for yourself before they run out.”
She felt dizzy. Maybe it was the alcohol or just her body having an adrenaline crash and telling her how tired she was now that she could rest for a while. Catherine accepted the offer and he led her upstairs to find a room that was not already crowded with people. From the moans and grunts coming from behind the closed doors, they weren’t sleeping. He put her in his sister’s bedroom, telling her to be at home since the sister was currently traveling through Asia. He even gave her some pajamas to wear. Catherine thanked him and closed the door after he left.
Sighing with relief and fearing she would pass out before she could get in bed, she hurried along and changed into the pajamas. Catherine soon fell asleep but would wake up once she felt someone groping her. The lineman was laying next to her under the covers. She could tell he was naked because something stiff was poking into her thigh.
“Oh, you’re awake. Good evening, Cathy,” he approached to kiss her and she tried to avoid but found her body unresponsive. Numb.
“Go away,” she groaned and slurred. Her head spun and she felt as if she was eternally falling backward. Instead of obeying, the guy’s hand crawled over her skin and ducked underneath her pants. “Stoppit!”
He held her by the nape in a vise-like grasp. Cat froze in fear her neck would snap.
The sweet tone was gone as the giant of a man stared into her eyes and pushed his other hand further down, “Now, be a good girl...”
...
The next morning, she found her dress and shoes were missing. Giving up on finding them, she resigned herself to do the walk of shame and go home with the borrowed pajamas, lamenting her shame and luck. A few weeks later when her meticulously-tabled period didn’t come, she scheduled an appointment with Dr. Hill.
----------------------------------------
"He most probably drugged you," Cat concluded. "A couple of drinks and a few songs wouldn't make you crash this hard. You are too waspish and light to tire out that easily."
Catherine didn't answer at first. Cat could hear her whimpering.
"Because he's a jerk and a monster," Cat stated matter-of-factly. "It was not your fault at all. He's a predator that only cares about his kill count. Those two 'friends'," she said sarcastically, "of yours probably knew what was going on and abandoned you."
Another one that was at a fault was Mrs. Wallenstein for Catherine's sheltered upbringing. The girl received the best education she could on all things lady-like. That left her socially naive.
"Thanks for sharing it," Cat continued. "Now I can think about what to say during our statement recording."
----------------------------------------
The next day, Cat asked her attending physician when she would be discharged. The kind doctor told her they would like her to stay for at least one more week, for observation and a final battery of tests.
“We would like to ask your consent to use your case for research purposes,” she explained. “It will delay your discharge by just a few days but can potentially save several lives down the line.”
The doctor explained what they would do and the purpose of the research, and presented her with a dozen forms and a brief abstract of the research papers they already wrote on her case. She also guaranteed Catherine’s name wouldn’t be used anywhere and she would be mostly anonymous. Mostly because anyone with a web browser could find the information and link the dots.
The prospect of doing a good deed and gaining cookie points with the Heavens prompted both soul-roommates to agree. She read through the forms and papers, signing them over. It wasn’t Catherine’s signature as the former owner of the body couldn’t move the hand to write but months ago Oliver had a notary come over to the hospital to update the signature cards and that was Cat’s official recognized signature now.
With that done, she dedicated the next two weeks to physical therapy and lots and lots of exams.