Jezzer woke up in Allison's body

What the… where am I?

The thought was a thick, syrupy haze, a distant echo in a mind that wasn't his own. Jezzer’s eyelids fluttered open, the harsh, sterile light of the hospital room making him squint. His body ached with a deep, unfamiliar soreness. He tried to lift a hand to rub his face, but the arm that moved felt… wrong. It was slender. Light. The skin was smooth, pale.

Then he saw it. A hand. A delicate, feminine hand with short, neat nails lying on the white sheet beside him.

That’s not my hand.

Panic, sharp and cold, jolted through him. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, the movement feeling strangely effortless. His gaze dropped to his chest. And there they were. Two small, perfect mounds straining against the thin fabric of a hospital gown. A choked sound, high and feminine, escaped his lips.

“No way,” he whispered, and the voice was a melody he knew intimately. It was Allison’s voice.

He scrambled off the bed, his new legs—slim, young, powerful—carrying him unsteadily to the small mirror on the wall. He gripped the sink, his heart hammering against his ribs—her ribs—and stared.

Allison’s face stared back. Wide, scared blue eyes. A small, pert nose. Lips he’d watched a thousand times, imagined kissing a thousand more. Soft brown hair was tousled from sleep. His sleep. He was inside her.

A slow, disbelieving grin spread across her face. His mind, the old, lecherous part that had gotten him into trouble more times than he could count, instantly took over the shock. The horror Tim would feel was a million miles away from the sheer, unadulterated thrill coursing through Jezzer.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he said to his reflection, the words sounding so lewd in her sweet, innocent tone. He brought a hand up, cupping one of the small, firm breasts. A sharp, delightful jolt shot through him, straight to his core. Her core.

He’d always wondered. God, how he’d wondered. On the bus that day, his groping hand had been a desperate, fleeting thing, torn away before he could ever truly feel. Now… now he had all the time in the world.

A low, guttural laugh bubbled up from his throat. “Looks like old Jezzer hit the jackpot.”

He stumbled back to the bed, his focus narrowing to the new body he inhabited. This was better than any dream. This was a wet dream made flesh.

He fell onto the mattress, the springs groaning softly. His hands—her hands—were eager, shaking with a perverse excitement as they slid under the hem of the gown. He pushed it up, over her hips, her stomach, until it was bunched around her neck, exposing her completely to the cool air… and to his ravenous gaze.

He stared down at the body he now owned. Smooth, flat stomach. Narrow waist. And between her legs, a neat thatch of dark hair. His prize.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he moaned, his voice dripping with a grotesque parody of affection. “Let’s see what you’ve been hiding from me.”

He let his fingers trail down her stomach, marveling at the softness of the skin. It was so different from his own calloused, wrinkled hide. Every sensation was amplified, electric. He reached the apex of her thighs, his touch feather-light at first, just tracing the outer lips.

A shudder wracked the body. He felt a corresponding heat begin to bloom low in her belly. It was an alien feeling, a deep, aching emptiness that demanded to be filled. His own excitement, his male arousal, was a hard, familiar pressure, but this… this was a throbbing, liquid need. It was intoxicating.

“You like that, don’t you?” he whispered, now fully role-playing, adopting a higher, breathier version of Allison’s voice. “You want old Jezzer to touch you, don’t you, sweet thing? You want me to make you feel good.”

He answered himself in his own gruff mental voice. Yeah, I do. Show me everything.

He pressed two fingers against her center, and a gasp was torn from his lips. She was already wet. Slick heat greeted his probing touch. The sensation was unbelievable. He circled the sensitive nub of her clit, and her back arched off the bed, a wordless cry echoing in the quiet room. The pleasure was so intense, so immediate, it was almost painful.

“F-fuck, Jezzer,” he whimpered in her voice, his hips beginning to move of their own accord, grinding against his own hand. “Right there. Don’t stop.”

He slid a finger inside, and the tight, velvety heat clenched around him. The dual perspectives were overwhelming him—the feeling of being penetrated and the feeling of doing the penetrating, all at once. It was the ultimate sin, the ultimate fantasy. He added a second finger, stretching her, filling her, and the moan that escaped was utterly wanton.

He pumped his fingers in and out, the slick, wet sounds filling the room. His other hand found her breast, pinching and rolling the hardened nipple, sending fresh waves of pleasure crashing through her system. He was losing himself in the sensations, in the taboo of it all.

“I’m gonna cum,” he cried out, his voice breaking. “Jezzer, I’m gonna cum for you!”

The coil of pleasure in her gut tightened unbearably. His movements became frantic, less skilled, driven purely by a desperate need for release. He pictured himself, his old self, watching this, and the image pushed him over the edge.

The orgasm exploded through her, a silent, shattering wave that left her screaming soundlessly. Her body seized, back bowing off the bed as convulsions wracked her frame. The pleasure was a white-hot fire, so different from the blunt release he was used to. It seemed to go on forever, radiating out from her core until every nerve was alight.

When it finally subsided, he collapsed back onto the mattress, spent and panting. A profound lassitude settled over him. He slowly pulled his glistening fingers out, bringing them up to his face to smell her—his—unique scent. A satisfied, deeply creepy smile played on Allison’s lips.

He was sticky, wet, and completely sated. Too tired to even pull his gown down, he simply let his hands fall to his sides. The last thing he saw before his eyes fluttered shut was the evidence of his self-violation glistening on his inner thighs.

A contented sigh escaped him. “Best damn wake-up call ever,” he slurred, before drifting into a deep, peaceful sleep, leaving the young body he’d defiled sleeping in its own mess. __