Go back to your normal life

The following day I woke and got ready for school. As I got dressed, my mind kept racing to the ray gun in my closet and how I yearned for it. When I returned to school, slipping back into my routine with no one noticing my absence. I sat in my desk for first period, ready to get back into my life. But school felt like a different world. I sat in class, staring at the chalkboard, but all I could think about was my adventure from the previous day.

When my teacher, Mrs. Brownstone entered the class I didn’t even notice. It was only once she started her lesson and turn to face the chalkboard did, I snap back to reality. I opened my textbook and began listening to the lesson, but in a short time Mrs. Brownstone’s voice begin to fade out and I returned to my thoughts. My attention was drawn to Mrs. Brownstone’s charcoal coloured wool pencil skirt with thin lighter pinstripes. The pull tab from her skirts zippers just subtly poking out the top of her skirt. My eyes followed the skirt down to her legs that were cladded in a pair of nude pantyhose that somewhat glistened from the sun shining through the window. As I gazed down to her feet, she was wearing a pair of dark turquoise loafers with a small heel.

My thoughts immediately went to whether I would be able to comfortable walk in those same shoes and wondering what the pantyhose feels like. How would it feel as my thighs rubbed into one another, gliding off the smooth fabric.

Every time I tried to focus, my mind wandered back to my shopping adventure and the feel of the soft fabric running along my skin, the way those dresses had swished around my legs, the way I’d felt in those heels. My leg bounced under the desk, and I could feel the heat building in my chest again. This is insane, I thought. I can’t keep thinking about this.

But I couldn’t stop.

“Are you following my lesson?” Mrs. Brownstone asked, drawing the classes attention to my desk.

I jerked upright, my face burning. “Yeah, fine. Just... tired.”

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further.

“Please try to stay focused and follow along, this may be on the test next week” Mrs. Brownstone said, as she continued with her lesson.

I slumped back in my chair, trying to concentrate once again, but my mind kept drifting. What if I did it again?

What if I spent a bit longer as mom?

What else could I experience?

Would I ever feel that rush again?

My breath quickened just thinking about it. I could feel my pulse in my throat, my hands clenching and unclenching under the desk.

A textbook falling off a nearby desk sent me back to reality. This process repeated itself repeatedly until the bell rang for the next period.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. I couldn’t focus on anything except the thought of mom—of me as her. By the time the final bell rang, I was practically lost in the clouds. I grabbed my bag and rushed out of the building, my mind racing, yearning for another round.

Should I do it?

Should I go back home, and have some fun? Push the limits further?

Should I become her and have a normal night to feel more immersed?

Should I go through her clothes and enjoy the array of fabrics along my skin?

Maybe I shouldn’t even go home?

I knew these thoughts were wrong and I was talking about my mother, but the part of me that felt like I was meant for a different life pressed on further. I knew I couldn’t fight these thoughts, but this was no way to live.

I thought about getting some food on my way home to delay the inevitable, hoping that something would pop up, get in my way, and stop me from using the ray gun again. I walked over to the closest McDonalds, buying a 10-piece McNuggets and a sprite. As I sat in a booth eating my meal, I scrolled through my phone hoping for another distraction. But as I scrolled through Instagram, everything seemed to draw me back to those thoughts.

When I finished the food, I threw out the garbage and started my walk home, knowing that I stood no chance of fighting these urges.