Astral Projection

"Your suitcase is all packed?" Mom asked me.

According to the bulging luggage sitting beside my closet, it was. I could've survived a three-day weekend up at West Mountain Lake with a backpack's worth of clothing, but moms were moms. She insisted I take along bug spray, a first aid kit, suntan lotion, batteries, snacks, flashlights, a raincoat, and enough supplies to set up a FEMA camp.

I wasn't much of an outdoor person, but I did like

going to the lake. It'd be better if I had a girlfriend, though, instead of my parents dragging me along.

One of these days.

"All packed," I confirmed.

Mom kissed me on the forehead. Some days, I wasn't sure she didn't realize that I wasn't twelve anymore. "Set your alarm for seven. Dad wants to be on the road right after breakfast."

I groaned.

It was hard to fall asleep that night. We lived in an apartment, and our neighbor upstairs owned a drum set-which he frequently tested out after dark. Lying in bed, I heard the tuneless thump thump tiss rattling the ceiling. And somewhere else a dog was barking. All my friends lived in houses, and I envied the privacy and thesilence from not sharing walls with other people, especially aspirant musicians. But my mom and dad seemed to love the apartment life. They had friends here, they didn't have to worry about lawn work, and supposedly the bills were cheaper.

They should try sleeping in my room, I thought.

During one discordant drum solo, I slipped away.

Normally my dreams were unremarkable, but that night was strange. Sometime in the middle of the night, I was in this state where I felt like I was both awake and asleep. My eyes were halfway open, but I was kind of paralyzed, staring at my dark bedroom. I'd heard of this before. It was called, unoriginally, sleep paralysis. And also l'd heard that, while people were frozen in bed and partially awake, they would see creatures or entities in the darkness.Thankfully, no such visitor came.

Instead, I thought I heard a woman's voice. At first, assumed it was a neighbor; like that drum solo, I was hearing the words through a wall, and something wasn't quite right about them. They were syllables without any kind of arrangement to turn them into recognizable words, as if I were hearing a new language.

The voice sounded close.

And then I was absolutely sure I heard my name

spoken, as if from the mouth of a nearby ghost.

"Cameron," it said. "Wake up, Cameron."

"Gah," I exclaimed, jerking upright and fully awake.

The hairs on my body were stiff, and I was sweating profusely despite my mother's judicious use of the air conditioning.

There was no one in my room. I looked around,

feeling like a wimpy little kid afraid of the dark,

expecting one of the shadows to move. No, I was just being stupid and paranoid. My eyes didn't see anything, and I didn't hear anything.

But I swore I felt something.

With a sense that wasn't sight or sound. Just a

presence. Somewhere.

"Just weird dreams," | told myself, wiping the sweat

off my face.

There was something else weird too: I was insanely aroused. We weren't supposed to be pitching tents until tomorrow, but my boxers had gotten a head start, displaying the humongous bulge of my throbbing erection. I tried to ignore it. But what guy my age could?

The unexpected need of a middle-of-the-night boner meant that returning to sleep required some extra steps.

Sighing and feeling like an idiot, I reached into my boxers and did the thing.

Even then, I couldn't shake off this weird sensation

that someone-or, hell, something-was in the bedroom with me. It made masturbation more difficult, but I succeeded in shooting a huge load into my boxers.

After that was finished, I realized I had a mess on my hands.

"Ah, you dummy," I said, getting up to change. I tossed my cum-stained boxers into the hamper and put on a fresh pair. Then I went into the bathroom, soaked a washrag, and cleaned my sweaty face.

I stared at myself in the mirror, still shivering.

Dude, you're eighteen, I told myself. There are no such things as ghosts or apparitions or paralysis demons. It's just weird dreams and shit. It was probably all the video games. And the caffeine.

My face in the mirror seemed to shimmer.

I looked closer, seeing my features ripple slightly, as if I were looking at myself underwater. At the same time, my ears started to ring.

I felt...odd. Numb. And strangely light. Like I might

float away if I took my hands off the sink.

"Huh?" | said. "Am I still dreaming?"

I felt a violent spasm, and a sense of vertigo washed over me. Suddenly, I wasn't staring at myself in the bathroom mirror anymore. I was staring at a room-but not my room. There were vases and flowers, spiritual posters, and a vinyl record player. My dad had one of those, but this wasn't our living room. And something was hugging my body, which I discovered was a fluffy pink robe.

Not only was the room not mine. My body wasn't either.

"What the..." I nearly shouted, flinching back when

I saw the skin underneath my new outfit. More specifically, the slightly exposed contours of a woman's breasts!

For a moment, I was too stunned for words, just staring at my new chest until my dry eyes reminded me to blink. I felt these new breasts' sensitivity, their weight, their bulging, which the tight robe never ceased to fill my mind with every time my chest rose and fell.

Gradually, as the horror and shock slowly wore off, I came to realize that I had other problems. Decidedly girly problems.

I observed a pair of smooth shapely legs that didn't

belong to me. And painted toenails. And my hair was shoulder-length. Also, I smelled fruity.

This wasn't me. This wasn't my bedroom.

What the hell?

This new body of mine was sitting cross-legged, so

I stood up. Immediately, my center of balance was completely off. My lower body felt heavier in relation to my upper body, and some of that was definitely my ass.

It seemed fat and massive. No; it was probably normal.

Just not for me. It caused me to stumble one way. Then my tits caused me to stumble the other way. After a few seconds, my brain adjusted.

"Oh crap," I said, with my new high-pitched voice.

I explored the apartment—my new hips swinging distractingly—until I found a mirror. Although I hoped for the reflection to calm my fears, it didn't. The person staring back was a young woman. She was cute. And familiar.

Wait, I thought, my new eyebrows wrinkling in

confusion. That's my neighbor.

Peyton. Her name was Peyton.

And I...

I was...

My hands pulled back the front of the robe slightly,

revealing more of my firm breasts, along with a trim navel and a complete lack of underwear. Before the consequences even dawned on me, I was looking at it.

The shaved cleft of my neighbor's pussy. It felt like my heart stopped, and for a minute I wasn't entirely sure that I wasn't clinically dead.

"Oh," I said, stuck in a trance.

Which was broken when I heard a knock.

I was freaking out badly now. At first, I didn't want to answer because it might be someone she knew. Like a boyfriend. But also it was like two in the morning. Who would be knocking at this hour? Maybe it was someone who could tell me what the heck was going on, because

I really needed to be in my own body by tomorrow morning.

Nervously, I walked to the door, remembering to close my robe at the last second. When I opened up, I was met with a familiar face.

"Okay," my body said. "Don't freak out. I got carried away with what I was doing and messed up. I'll try to fix this right now."

I blinked as this dude with my face walked right in. I

closed the door.

"What's going on?" | demanded. "Who are you?"

But of course that answer was obvious.

"I'm your neighbor, Peyton," he—she—said. "Sit

on the bed. I'll explain everything."

So, in the middle of the night, before my family and

I were heading on a short vacation, my neighbor explained to me that she'd been experimenting with astral projection. I almost laughed, and then remembered I was now the owner of a respectable pair of tits. I had never believed in spiritual crap. I thought astrology was total nonsense. But even astrology was tame compared to astral projection, that shit where you could willingly cause your soul to leave your body, or whatever. I was both relieved that there was an explanation but also spooked because the explanation verified something that wasn't supposed to be real.

Peyton had been practicing with astral projection

for years, attaining a level of deep relaxation that essentially allowed her mind and body to separate. In the astral plane, she could phase through walls and explore the world around her invisibly, while her physical body appeared ****. And apparently, her soul could enter other people's bodies too. I was

the result of that.

"I was messing around," she said, then apologized

for probably the tenth time. "I was there in your bedroom, watching you sleep. During the OBE, I got too close, and my interaction with your physical form caused us to switch."

"OBE?" | said.

"Out-of-Body Experience. When the soul enters the

astral plane."

"Oh."

Confronted with so much information, I didn't have

much to say. I wished Peyton's experiments had involved someone else. But, overall, at least I was healthy, uninjured, and even attractive. My mind focused on the void between my legs again, and the stiffness of my nipples that the robe thankfully concealed. Stop that, I told them.

But I couldn't be her.

"You need to swap us back," I said. "My family and

I are leaving on vacation tomorrow."

"I have to be a bridesmaid at a wedding," she said.

"I screwed this all up. Okay." She stabbed her index fingers against her temples, as if she were trying to bring order to her chaotic thoughts. "I have to relax again and do another OBE. I'll swap us back, Cameron, I promise. It'll be even easier since you're in the room with me."

We sat there. I assumed, at worst, it would take her ten or fifteen minutes of meditation to fix us, but then an hour had gone by. Our swapped situation remained unresolved. I needed to take a piss badly-and eventually decided to do so, undergoing all the firsthand details of having to relieve my bladder in a

woman's body. It only motivated me more to return to normal.

I can't be a bridesmaid, I thought. I can't go out in

public!

It took Peyton so long that I actually snoozed. And when I woke up, the first light of dawn was starting to brighten the room. Now I was beginning to worry. And when her eyes finally opened and looked at me apologetically, I was worried more.

"I can't do it right now," she said. "I need more

time."

"But you changed places with me like it was

nothing," | said.

"This skill has nearly taken a decade of my life to learn, and I'm nowhere near a master of it. I have to be completely relaxed and feel the weight and warmth of my soul, and I just can't. I'm sorry. I tried."

There were tears in her eyes. I knew she was being

serious, and that she didn't mean for any of this to happen.

But her feelings didn't change reality.

Peyton: "I'll have to go on vacation with your family, and you're gonna have to go to my friend's wedding."

Oh no. Please no.

2

The bridesmaid dress that Peyton had intended to wear was already hanging up on her closet door. It was after nine in the morning now, and I hadn't slept a wink. I knew my family would be on the road, and probably my mother was pestering my father about the speed limit—

"You know how eager the cops are to pull over vacationers, dear"—and nagging who she thought was her son for the pound of medicine he'd packed in his luggage-"It's better to be prepared for anything."

I looked down at my tits again.

"Crap," | said.

I'd suggested that I should just skip the wedding.

Mainly because l'd never attended one. I was eighteen; weddings were still several years away in my circle of friends. But Peyton had insisted, because Tiffany, the bride, was one of her best friends, and weddings were once-in-a-lifetime events. Although it was Tiffany's third husband.

Taking the robe off, I almost felt the need to close my eyes. But putting on underwear required vision. I found some simple white panties, then shoved my trembling legs through them. It was impossible to never glance at my crotch, but I kept my glances short and innocent. Never thinking about the lack of everything I'd

grown up with. Never thinking about the hole that was in the place of my manhood. Never thinking about the womb and ovaries and vagina and everything I'd seen on those detailed diagrams in my biology class.

The panties fit snugly and comfortably. Maybe I had

the proper body to wear them, but I still felt like a pervert, with the silky texture of the fabric squeezing my sensitive skin.

I checked the list on Peyton's phone.

Next: STRAPLESS BRA.

Easier said than done. For being a woman with, presumably, years and years of experience putting on bras, I probably looked like a doofus trying to get that thing snapped. I was also partly distracted because of noticing my left nipple was pierced with a metal rod.

That's none of your business, I told myself.

Panties on. Bra on. Dress time.

Being a man, I didn't know the terminology for styles of dresses. This one was a pastel green color and very flowy. It fit tightly around my waist, but the bottom and top were loose. It was designed with a V-neck, so I couldn't look down without seeing my own cleavage enhanced by the bra pushing my tits together. That wouldn't get distracting. Nope!

I thought I looked okay in the mirror. And although the shoes were a little scary, the heel was pretty small. I put on a necklace and clipped on some earrings.

Back to the list: MAKEUP.

I'd skipped over that, thinking I could do it last. But I didn't know a damn thing about putting on makeup.

And I looked fine after combing my hair. Besides, I thought lots of women used too much makeup anyway, and Peyton was naturally beautiful. My skin was

flawless, and I could give myself this look in the mirror that gave me lustful shivers.

No one's going to notice, I figured.

The wedding venue was on a huge swath of grassland on an estate that overlooked a lake and vineyards. I hadn't been there personally, but my body's real owner had provided me with the address, and so l drove Peyton's car down there about an hour before the scheduled start. My heart started to race when I saw no fewer than fifty vehicles in the parking lot. I tried to see this situation as like being in theater class. I was only pretending to be a hot, twenty-something woman attending her friend's wedding— and the role, for whatever reason, demanded that my nipples being constantly erect.

But like improv theater.

Because I didn't have a script!

The path to the venue was covered in archways, streamers, and flowers. And underneath a beautiful cloudless sky, it made me feel like I was taking the trail to heaven.

I hoped to survive by being anonymous. Somehow.

As a bridesmaid.

That didn't last.

Some middle-aged red-haired woman plucked me aside and hugged me, nearly causing me to lose my balance. "It's good to see you, honey!" she said.

"Although you're a little late."

"Well, I...uh..." I started. I've had this crazy day you

wouldn't believe.

"Tiffany's in the cottage getting ready. I'm sure

she'd love to see you before the ceremony."

Sure enough, there was a little cottage. My dress

swished and my heels clacked on the stone pathway.

My mindset was still that of a young man—| shouldn't be seeing the bride before the wedding, even if I wasn't the groom. But I supposed bridesmaids had special privileges.

The main living area inside the cottage had been repurposed as a dressing room. It smelled like wood and perfume. It wasn't hard to find the bride; the white dress and glow of the sun coming in through the window lit her up like an angel. She was seated at a vanity mirror and doing her makeup. However, my gaze was much more intrigued by the huge rack she sported.

There was so much cleavage, someone could trip and fall into it. And also her lips were unnaturally large and plump.

So, she was a little enhanced.

Her red hair was the same color as that of the

woman l'd met outside. I presumed a family relationship.

She noticed my entrance. "There's my babe!" she said, hopping up. Her bouncing tits almost hit her in the chin. She squeezed me into a hug, smashing me against those boulders and cracking my spine. Then she frowned at me. "Like, Peyton, hello, it's my special day, and you can't even put on makeup?"

"I got a late start," | explained. "I didn't have time." Tiffany sighed loudly. "Sit down, babe. I don't want

you in my pictures looking like some tomboy. You're one of my princesses."

So, I got made up after all. I felt like I was at the dentist or something, with all these weird instruments waving around in front of my face. The worst was when she did my eyelashes. Some of those brushes or

whatever came close to stabbing me in the eyeballs.

Tiffany: "The next wedding better be yours. I'm on my third man, and your pretty finger is still missing a ring."

"But then I wouldn't enjoy the single life," | said,

making conversation.

"Girl," Tiffany said. "Get a man. Like, I can hook you up with my plastic surgeon if you need some assistance in that department." She giggled, and her tremendous tits bounced on her chest. Then, candidly:

"I hope Steve fucks me in the ass tonight."

"Oh?"

"Uh-huh. That's the fun hole. When you wanna get serious and make babies, you use the other hole. Duh."

Is this what women talk about when men aren't

around? I wondered.

I eventually survived the makeup and walked away with a face that felt heavier, stickier, and pasted over. I thought clowns put on less makeup, but I couldn't deny the results. The thick eyelashes made me look downright seductive, and my lips were full and sexy—although not physically any larger than before. It was a trick of the color and sheen, or something.

Prior to the ceremony, I stuck with the other

bridesmaids and assisted whenever necessary.

Supposedly it was a quickie wedding, with the wedding and reception all happening here. Some kind of new trend? Or maybe Tiffany just didn't want to endure the whole shebang for the third time and get to the anal sex as quickly as possible.

At least the ceremony was easy.

The bridesmaids took turns down the aisle, walking alongside the groomsmen. Then we stood on the altar

during the vows and exchange of rings. Steve-the groom-was a big burly tattooed guy. When the kissing-the-bride part came, I saw Tiffany rubbing his crotch as they sucked each other's lips in front of the audience. When they pulled apart, her new husband was about to split the seams of his pants.

Fortunately, the rest was uneventful. We ate some supper, I offered a pre-written toast along with the other bridesmaids, and about half of the guests stayed long enough to break open the kegs and participate in some drunken dancing.

I slipped away during that part.

Good enough, I thought. I was there. Tiffany saw me.

I saved Peyton's day. And it was certainly a wedding to remember.

I liked Peyton's robe enough that it was what I put on after returning home and taking off the dress. I tried to text her, but I got no response. The signal reception up toward West Mountain Lake was pretty spotty.

Honestly, I was tired enough anyway to wait until tomorrow. Walking in those shoes had killed my feet. I wondered if women had to walk differently than men, or did they just put up with the pain? Surely not.

Sleep was easy. It was an excuse to pass the time and get closer to returning to my normal body-which I hoped was possible.

A weird dream happened.

I was standing outside an unremarkable suburban

home. It was late and dark, but there was still the occasional traffic. When I looked down at myself, I saw my male body—but any relief of a reversal ended there.

I was naked. I was also kind of glowing. And kind of translucent? When I raised my arm, I could see the lawn

through my skin. And there was this silver cable on the ground-kind of glowing like me. It seemed to be connected to my lower spine. And also it was hundreds of feet long, snaking down the street as far as I could see.

Just silly dream shit, I assumed.

I felt compelled to head toward the house, so I did.

When I reached out to knock, my fist phased right through the surface-which inevitably led me to do the same with my whole body. I stepped inside as if no door blocked my path.

I saw balloons. Presents. And a wedding dress that

looked familiar.

There was a trail of clothing past it. Men's and women's. And I heard moaning coming from down the hallway at the end of the clothing's path.

Is this where Tiffany and Steve live? I wondered.

There were so many details for a dream. And why

would I dream being here of all places?

I didn't really walk. I sort of floated. Like a balloon on a tether. The moaning got louder and louder as I approached a bedroom.

Inside was where I found the newlyweds, celebrating their union with hot, passionate sex. Tiffany was on top, her man underneath her, and she was riding his massive cock. I was reminded of our conversation earlier, and indeed I saw which hole that cock was fucking. I was just sort of mesmerized, watching two people having sex, both of them unaware that there was a spectator in the room with them-who they apparently couldn't see.

Hey, what young guy hadn't wished he could be invisible and spy on people? Like girls in the locker

room? This was sort of like that.

I drifted closer.

Tiffany: "Yes, baby! Yes! Fill my ass!"

Their bodies slapped. Her huge tits bounced.

I felt like I was getting pulled now, as if a breeze were pushing me along. And in my path was Tiffany. I heard her panting. I even heard her heart pounding. I reached out to stop myself, but again nothing was solid;

I phased through her.

And into her.

The man grunted, and I was looking down into his

eyes as he squeezed my waist hard. There was something lodged in my ass, and it should've hurt, but all I felt was pleasure. Suddenly, my ass flooded with gushes of warmth, and my body was trembling nonstop. Even my huge tits.

My. Huge. Tits...

"Fuck yes," hollered Steve. "I married the best ass

in the world."

Reality snapped like a rubber band.

I jerked awake in bed, back in Peyton's apartment, my ass not stretched open by a massive cock, and my tits a relatively normal size.

I wanted it to be a dream, but it had felt too real to

be a dream.

"Uh, what the hell?" I said, sweating and shaking.

3

"So, how's life as me?" Peyton asked.

A moment of good reception in the West Mountain Lake region finally allowed us to FaceTime. The current owner of my teenage male body was inside a tent—presumably in my father's favorite camping area.

We went to it so often that we'd even carved our names into a tree, and added a notch for each year we returned.

"It's fine, I guess," I said, lounging in the robe.

"I saw photos on Facebook from the wedding.

Thanks for going. Tiffany would've disowned me had I not shown up, even if I told her it was because I had the bubonic plague. And your makeup looked really good."

"She did that," I laughed. My finger idly toyed with my hair. "Are my parents treating you okay? I mean, I guess they would. They think you're me."

"Oh, they're great! We went hiking yesterday. Your

mother might have sprained her ankle. She was pleasantly surprised when I knew how to wrap it. But she's doing well. And now your father wants to go fishing later. I swear he gets up at the crack of dawn like he's solar-powered."

"Yep. That's Dad."

"They're adorable, though. I'm having a pretty good

time."

That's terrific, I thought, more than a little envious.

Some post-wedding events continued to be on my

mind—namely my out-of-body episode where l'd somehow been inside Tiffany's house and briefly occupied her physical form. At least, that was my hypothesis. Because that sure as hell hadn't felt like a dream. Dreams were illogical and disorienting. This had been particularly vivid, and I remembered being weightless like I'd been in outer space.

I thought about mentioning it, but decided not to. If

it was a one-time thing, Peyton didn't need to know about it. Unless maybe it would help us swap our bodies back.

Could I astral project like she could?

In the middle of these ruminations, I noticed that the orientation of her camera had switched; the POV was now looking at her crotch, while a hand entered the frame and began kneading the front of her shorts, as if she were squeezing and pressing a mound of dough.

"Hey, what are you doing?" I said to this on-screen

perverted behavior.

"What?" she laughed. "Don't tell me you haven't thought about touching yourself. Having a penis is so crazy. I just want to grope it constantly. And this morning, I had such a hard-on that it was like having a kickstand. I've been trying really, really hard to not jerk off, but I don't think I can resist. Boys' bodies are something else."

I swallowed hard, entranced by the repetitive

motions of her hand and the growing bulge.

My damn nipples were erect again. Jesus.

"You wanna see me jerk your dick off, Cameron?" she said. "Go ahead and finger my pussy while you

watch. I know you want to. I give you permission." On the subject of women, I normally imagined erotic fun happening after the dating. But I reckoned our swapped bodies made our situation more unique.

I had thought about it.

Like when you take a sports car for a test drive and imagine gunning it down the interstate, leaving cops in the dust. There was some kind of primal desire for that, suppressed by the fear of consequences and the need to obey the rules.

What even were the rules now?

I switched cameras on Peyton's phone and oriented mine the same as hers: with a view of my body lying on the mattress. Even though I was dressed in her comfy robe, I was wearing panties underneath. Bras were just too annoying. And they pinched. I peeled the robe away slightly, giving the camera a view of my navel and the white cotton concealing my womanhood.

I heard a moan on the other end.

"It's making me so restless," Peyton said. "I want a

hole. Any hole."

I laughed. "You didn't go through puberty. That's

kind of the orientation."

On the phone, I watched my male body begin to disrobe, taking steps toward freeing its erection. It was a familiar view, looking down and seeing the desire so obvious and visible, and clearly Peyton was having a fun time with it. My mouth opened slightly when she unveiled her manhood, fully hard and released of its tight, sweaty confinement.

It was my cock. But that was still someone else

handling it. And playing with it. And stroking it.

I felt surprisingly aroused.

However, my new body wasn't equipped for hard-ons. What I felt instead was this blossoming, tingling warmth all around my groin region—and even a throbbing that sort of reminded me of cocks, but it was deeper. Embedded. Everywhere between my legs was pulsing harder and faster.

"God, what a weapon," Peyton remarked. "I bet you

fuck a lot of girls with this."

"Yeah, uh, definitely," | said.

I closed my eyes for a bit. It was so bizarre. And that trend continued as I rubbed my crotch, feeling the relative flatness of this female body's anatomy. I felt the indentation of my slit, and the outer lips of the vulva pressing out against my panties. And there was a bull's eye of sensitivity. Must be the clit, I assumed. It sure wasn't difficult to find when you owned one! My finger lingered around it and started rubbing it, and not too long after I was beginning to squirm from how good it felt.

My eyes opened. Peyton was jerking off now.

I had never watched another man masturbate, and my heterosexuality felt wounded because of what I was seeing. But technically he wasn't another man. My gaze followed the hand wrapping around the swollen shaft and pumping up and down. I saw pre-cum oozing out.

In my head, I recalled all the feelings associated with male arousal, including the intense pressure inside my dick and the fullness in my balls.

The feelings didn't stay. Rather, I began to feel

empty.

"Ohh," my throat vibrated, while my legs slid and

trembled on the sheets. "This feels interesting."

"Interesting?" Peyton said.

"In a good way, I mean."

"Usually I need to find the right mood first. But in your body, I think I'm always in the mood. Oh yes, that feels so good. My dick feels bloated. This cum needs to—oh—come out of me."

"Uh-huh," I said in a daze.

A rhythm developed. When my hand had first touched my new privates, I had been a novice, but now my male mind was developing a new skill set. I loved flicking my clit. That was the center of everything I felt, and I rubbed hard and fast as I grew more courageous.

Fierce pleasure began to throb there, and I felt the waves of it passing deeper into my turned-on flesh, reminding me that women had more than just a fun little button.

I pushed my hand into my panties.

There was wetness now. Dear Lord.

My other hand almost lost grip of the phone as l massaged my feminine folds for real, feeling the slimy warmth of female arousal. And even though my mind was accustomed to the ways of the average teenage male, new instincts were calling out to me.

A pair of fingers gently slid inside.

The sound I made was almost a muffled scream.

"What is it?" Peyton asked in the middle of her

panting.

"I just penetrated..."

"Oh, I think I just got harder."

She was incredibly hard. And the pre-cum was so abundant that her hand was smearing it all along her shaft and giving her cock a shine. I was fully invested now. My eyes watched her jerking off, while simultaneously I pushed those fingers into my tighthole. Matching her rhythm was completely accidental, but then suddenly I was doing it intentionally, and it was like I could feel both: the hardness of that cock wrapped between my fingers and the euphoric depth of my hot, wet pussy.

I squeezed my tits. Goose bumps appeared all over

my body.

Writhing and trembling and moaning, I properly

fucked myself.

Peyton came first, but I was hot on her heels. A cry of pleasure nearly blew out my eardrum. And then I felt a similar explosion of sensation throughout my groin-although with less physical output. I rolled around, my hand squeezed between my thighs, my whole body bucking and going through spasms while juice leaked out of me and onto the bed.

Fuck, this is amazing! I thought.

Afterward, I was still buzzing. It was hard not to

keep going.

Peyton groaned. "Well, I'm spent now."

"Yeah," I said. "It has that effect."

"Are your toes curling?"

"Uh-huh."

"Mm, you won't be able to get enough now. Same

for me."

After our FaceTime call ended, I spent the day mostly relaxing. No more weddings were on her schedule, thankfully. And she didn't work anywhere due to a family inheritance. So, I had no reason to get dressed or do anything at all, except fight the urges to explore my body further. Which I did later that evening, before creaming my panties and falling asleep with a smile on my face.

Once again, it happened.

I was standing in the woods, with a body that was mostly my own-male—but not entirely-ghostly and translucent. I saw a yellow tent in front of me. It was mine. And with a simple thought, I drifted toward it. My feet didn't move. Rather, it was like I moved the world toward me, as if I were zooming in with my entire body.

It was another OBE. But how? I had never once attempted or had anything to do with astral projection. I had thought it was a silly hoax! But clearly it wasn't.

I passed through the tent with ease. Unsurprisingly,

I found my male body inside. And also kind of unsurprisingly, my male body was busy masturbating again. Who was I to complain? I'd given my pussy a good fingering not that long ago.

For a while, I just hovered there, observing Peyton

with her new addiction. Then she seemed to assert some self-control over her rambunctious desires. "Stop it," she said, letting go of her cock. "You're gonna rub the skin off if you keep going."

She rested there, her stiff erection showing signs of

deflating.

I descended toward it.

Physical contact wasn't entirely possible; my hand

was on a different plane of existence, even though I could see both at the same time. Regardless, I reached out with my ghostly fingers, wrapped them around where I saw her dick to be, and began yanking my fist up and down. I didn't feel anything. I was only stroking air. However, I quickly saw that the astral plane was connected to the physical world.

Peyton sat up immediately and looked around. Her manhood, formerly in the progress of deflating, was

raging hard again.

"Cameron?" she said. "Is that you? I

feel...something..."

And you're gonna feel a lot more soon, I thought.

It was so much fun just messing with her. Besides her initial reaction, she didn't freak out. She spread her legs farther open as if presenting me with her cock, as if knowing that I was in the tent with her and jerking her off.

Her voice acknowledged it too.

"Oh yes," she moaned. "Oh, keep going! It's better if you do it anyway, because there's no friction-yes!" Soon, I succeeded in my goal, and even though I was hundreds of miles away, I watched her cock shoot out its load of cum. It wasn't much; she'd been masturbating so frequently that her body didn't have time to recharge. But the orgasm caused her to cry out and twitch anyway, while jizz arched high and sprayed her lower abdomen.

My ears started to ring, and I heard that snap sound

again. Like a huge rubber band.

I woke up in Peyton's bed, horny enough to forestall sleep until after I fingered my juicy snatch one more time.

4

Being in Peyton's body wasn't the vacation I had expected, but it was a vacation. In a sense. FaceTiming with her had flicked a switch. Now I wanted to masturbate all day, every day. And any hope of distracting myself with something more productive ended the moment I found a drawer that contained her sex toys. My streak of good behavior was forever lost, and a six-inch dildo was the culprit. Fucking myself took on a whole new meaning with something so much larger and girthier.

The next afternoon I was seated on the mattress as

usual, shoving that dildo into my pussy and moaning for so long that I could have published all the noises I was making as a full musical album. My body was tingling, the juices were running rampant, and I was in absolute heaven, spearing myself again and again.

Until I heard a drum solo.

It seemed that Peyton also had a problem with a certain noisy neighbor upstairs. I didn't know the guy, but it was pretty ridiculous that the apartment complex allowed this racket— especially when there were families living here.

I tried to go on.

The terrible music made me quit.

"Ugh," I groaned, grabbing the air with my fingers, imagining the neck of the terrible musician I wanted to strangle. "There are people trying to enjoy themselves.

Silently. Can you please knock it off?"

My unheard plea didn't change anything.

I considered going upstairs and giving the guy an earful. But that meant two things: putting on clothes and leaving the apartment. And a third thing: having someone else see me. I smelled like I needed a shower, and I was pretty sure I looked like l'd participated in an all-day orgy. And I was kind of a wimp.

But there was another way. And this recent annoyance gave me a reason for more practice.

I put the dildo aside, trying to find relaxation with

all the thumps and tisses echoing above my head.

Peyton had described her experience with OBE as requiring lots of relaxation, but in my case it seemed pretty easy. Within five minutes, while not even really sure how to separate my soul and body, I did it. I drifted. And then I was hovering next to the bed and looking down at Peyton's half-naked female body, suddenly very aware of the amount of stains in the sheets from all my bodily fluids.

This is so freaky, I thought.

How could I do it? I'd never astral projected before

a few days ago. And now it was nothing.

You stay right there, I told my body.

Then I leapt upward—and gravity didn't pull me

back down.

Passing through the ceiling produced a sound like friction on latex. I popped out the other side, into the apartment on the next floor. It all kind of reminded me of VR, with my digital avatar having no collision

detection with the polygons. Unlike VR, there was a silver cable on the ground, which my soul had pulled along with it. I understood that now: it was like a diver's tether. It connected my soul to my body.

All of this should've been freaky as hell, but I was

too excited about the possibilities.

Now in the lair of the wannabe drummer, I followed

the music until I found the source. The dude's apartment was a mess. The drum set was right in the middle of the living room, with the drummer wearing nothing but a pair of gym shorts. I watched him bash his drumsticks around for a while, wondering what I was going to do.

Mess with him, probably. What else? Being on the astral plane was like having an invisibility superpower.

Time to learn a lesson or two, asshole, I thought to myself, flinging my ghostly body across the room. At the last second, the dude left the seat and evaded me. I floated right through the drums, missing my target.

Even though I was effectively a ghost with no physical body, movement came with momentum. I coasted right into the next room—a bedroom.

An occupied bedroom.

There was a young Hispanic woman snoozing on

the mattress. The earplugs suggested that her roommate's-husband's?—musical hobby was a regular displeasure.

She was also visibly pregnant.

And like a meteor caught in a planet's gravity and plummeting toward its surface, I flew directly at her, with the collision of my soul and her body imminent.

Hey, wait, no!

I sat up with a gasp. Long, dark hair swished acrossmy face. My body felt heavy and achy, and I didn't need a rocket scientist to tell me why.

"Crap," I said, taking the earplugs out.

The woman was wearing a tank top, although it didn't conceal her-now my-bulging belly. Grabbing it, I felt immensely bloated, as if there was a tanker truck's worth of digestive gas in my abdomen, putting strain on all my internal organs and even the skin itself.

But of course it wasn't gas, not in this case. It was something far more frightening.

"You idiot. You dumb, dumb idiot."

Obviously, the only way out of this woman's body was to return to the astral plane. For that, I needed to relax again. I only got a few seconds into that task before her boyfriend or husband or whatever came into the room. It almost scared me. I was flesh now. He could see me.

He removed his gym shorts.

And there was his dick.

"Is the baby hurting you again?" he asked.

I glanced at my abdomen. Both my hands were clutching my belly hard. "What? Oh, no, the baby's fine.

I just have...cramps. I think I need to relax."

The guy came over and jumped in bed with me.

Before I could protest, he was kissing my shoulder. "I have the best remedy for cramps," he said, adjusting himself until we were practically in a spooning position.

Oh, come on! I wanted to shout.

He wasn't a bad-looking guy...

But I didn't want sex. I didn't want to be pregnant. I

just wanted him to stop playing with his damn drums.

How hard could that be?

His kisses moved up my neck. My new body was

already tingling like how Peyton's did, and I cursed myself for being such a horny pervert as of late.

Because immediately I was thinking about my new pussy too. The plumbing was probably pretty similar down there, and the feelings of arousal reminded me of those awesome female orgasms. And the nipples in this body were even more sensitive, making fat impressions in my tank top and begging to be grabbed, squeezed, and twisted.

"Hey, wait," I said.

"Hm?" he said.

"You really need to move those drums elsewhere."

His hand slipped between my legs. "I've

heard—mm-complaints from some of our neighbors.

And the music...it's too loud for unborn children.

Doctors say it can impair development."

"But I thought you liked my music."

"Oh, it's great, but..."

"You're probably right. I'll move it to Charlie's garage after we're finished. The music scene's died out in this shitty town anyway."

Oh, it was that easy all along?

Now I could focus on my next concern: my

horniness.

I didn't know if it had to do with being pregnant,

but I felt ten times more sensitive all over. Just his breath on my neck made me shiver. And when he pulled my panties down, I was already sopping wet. The hot void between my legs begged to be satisfied. In Peyton's body, I had a special toy for that. Here, I had a man who could hook me up.

His big, manly hands reached around and squeezed my tender tits while his cock aimed for the main prize. I didn't even know this guy, but I just wanted him inside me more than anything, because it was so naughty, and I was relentlessly horny. And while this was going on, I could only assume that this woman was asleep in Peyton's body, missing out.

"Mm, yeah," I moaned, feeling his tip penetrate my outer folds. There was almost no resistance. My pussy was a water slide, and he slipped on in there, causing the muscles in my vagina to reflexively grip his shaft.

He gave me a few gentle thrusts, and my tits went bobbing and bouncing underneath my tank top, as if dancing to the action.

I hadn't lied to him. I had felt cramped. My huge, pregnant belly was impossible to ignore. And although lying on my side reduced the strain, there was no way to not feel the pressure of this couple's child causing my whole midsection to look like a round, brown blimp.

But the best medicine, it seemed, was a distraction from it, and that cock in my pussy was excellent at that. The warmth of my arousal seemed to soothe my whole body; aches and pains vanished almost instantly, and I felt so turned on that it was like I was glowing and radiating pleasure.

He secured my hips and fucked me harder, his erection curving up into me from underneath, his testicles slapping my thigh. And while my pussy wasn't a mouth, I felt hungry down there. I devoured his six or seven inches repeatedly.

"Does Mommy like that?" he said.

"Mommy likes," I cooed. "Mommy really likes."

I would've liked to have gone fishing with my dad.

But this might've been more fun.

Sorry, Dad.

The man wrapped his arms around me and finished with long, pounding thrusts that caused me to squeal, his pelvic impacts causing my ass and tits to jiggle incessantly. Then he buried his cock in my pussy as deep as he could. He twitched, and I felt the hot rush of his seed flooding into me. Maybe it was the hormones messing with my mind—the instincts of motherhood while with the father of this woman's child, or something—but I loved it. I returned the favor by moving my hips and fucking out those last few drops, milking his dick until I was so full of cum that I felt extra pregnant.

The intimacy had activated something else too: the

front of my tank top was wet.

It took me a moment to understand that I was lactating. The fabric over my nipples was all soggy. I raised my tank top, seeing my huge, plump nipples for the first time. Yep, there were white droplets decorating each one. I squeezed my boobs, and little streams of milk ran out.

Full of cum, full of milk—my partner had finished,

but I was even hornier now than before.

I rolled over. "You need a refreshment after all

that?" | asked him.

He smiled and leaned in. His lips wrapped around one of my natural milk-taps and started sucking. It was immensely pleasurable to feel it come out and watch his cheeks pinch in as he drank. And the hormones were definitely affecting me now, because I wanted more of this. I wanted to be loved. I wanted to give birth. I felt so complete and happy in a way that I never had before.

Of course I couldn't steal this woman's life.

But I had solved the drum issue.

Afterward, when he left me alone, I was able to slip

into a deep state of relaxation and leave her body. I descended through the floor and returned to Peyton's.

"Yeah," I sighed, seeing and smelling the mess of

earlier. "I probably need a shower now."

I took the dildo along for company.

5

If everything went to schedule, my parents would be returning home tomorrow-along with a teenage guy who was only their son on the outside. I kept thinking about swapping our bodies back. There was no reason to wait, was there? My astral-projecting abilities had reached the point where I could've jumped over to West Mountain Lake in my ghost form and taken my skin back whenever I liked.

But then I wouldn't have a pussy. And dildos.

Late that evening, I heard a knock. Initially, my plan was to ignore it, but the knocker began pounding my door like there was a fire. Yeah, that's all I need right now, I thought, securing my robe tight around my body and answering the door.

Outside was Tiffany, the buxom redhead whose

wedding l'd recently attended.

"Hey, babe," she said. "Wanna get freaky?"

I blinked confusedly.

She laughed. "Don't worry, it's me. Peyton. Your body is safely asleep in your bunk with Tiffany at the helm." She came into her apartment. "It took me forever to have an out-of-body experience again. I couldn't even reach you in the astral plane. Tiffany was as far as I could go.

"Oh," I said. "Well, l've been keeping your body, uh, good and clean." As if I were speaking of a rental car.

"But you were in my tent that other night," she said, taking my hand and leading me to her bed. Thank God I'd washed the sheets. "Cameron, tell me how you did that. Because I have a theory I want to share."

So, I confirmed that the presence she had felt was, indeed, me astral projecting. I did my best speaking to her face: half the time. I was talking to her incredible cleavage. Tiffany's tits were obviously enhanced, which I didn't prefer to natural breasts, but male brains were simple-minded. Two fleshy orbs pressed together were like nature's idea of subliminal messaging to make us stupid.

I also told Peyton about my trip upstairs. She wouldn't have to listen to the sounds of a drum set past midnight anymore. Although I left out the details about whose body l'd been in and the sexual dessert.

"And you've never visited the astral plane before,"

she said.

"Not until you swapped us," | said.

"But it was easy for you."

"Yeah."

She stared into my eyes. "That's my theory. Our ability to leave our bodies isn't just a talent that can be developed. I think there's a component that relies on our physical forms themselves. My body is an amplifier.

And maybe it has to do with the month I was born, or my lineage, or any number of reasons. And now that you're in my body, it's suddenly easy for you to have OBEs. But for me, while I was out camping, hundreds of miles away from you, l've struggled to do anything."

I shrugged. I had no understanding of any of this. It

was just a thing I could do.

Peyton squeezed my hands. "Swap us."

"Right now?" | said.

She nodded.

Okay, I thought, emptying my head of thoughts and

sitting there for a few minutes, picturing my soul and my body as two separate objects. Then my astral-self slipped out of my skin and entered the corporeal form of my neighbor's recently wed friend.

I'd already briefly been inside Tiffany's body, so there were expectations beforehand. Like the heavy weight pulling on my chest and the feeling that my lips had been stung by a bee. I couldn't even close them properly.

Peyton opened her eyes. "Wow," she said, looking down at herself. "Feels good to be back." Then she said:

"Cameron, why does my pussy feel sore?"

"Well..." I said, blushing.

She smiled. "Your dick's pretty sore too. I gave it a

good workout."

"Should I swap back now?"

Peyton leaned closer. After having her face for a few

days, it was now weird watching someone else in control of the facial expressions. What I saw in her eyes and mouth hinted at a different mood entirely. "Why?" she said. "Don't you want to have some fun?"

gulped nervously. Meanwhile, my nipples sprang out like the tips of ballpoint pens. I imagined a comical sound effect.

Peyton: "I'm pan. Tiffany isn't. I couldn't have her before. But Cameron, I think you do like girls. That night a few nights ago wasn't my first time in your bedroom.

I've watched you look at porn. I've even fingered my astral-pussy on your bed."

"What?"

Our lips came together. A part of me felt like I was being taken advantage of, but I didn't even care. Ever since l'd discovered what my neighbor could do—and after embarking on many out-of-body adventures myself-l'd been endlessly horny. And besides, I was getting laid. With a hot woman! Why should I even care?

Peyton squeezed my massive titties. They felt almost as stiff as basketballs, reminding me again that they were implants. But there wasn't a lack of sensitivity.

Her palms grinding over my nipples made them achingly erect, and any reservations I held vanished.

The sensations of female arousal were now becoming familiar, as the warmth in my loins began to build.

My partner pushed me down and relieved me of my

tank top.

Looking at my chest was like looking up at a mountain range. They didn't deform at all. They remained round and firm and huge. I licked my thick lips, feeling more and more like a bimbo, since it was harder to close my mouth and prevent me from drooling on myself.

"Have you been with other girls before?" | asked,

my heart pounding.

"Uh-huh," she said.

"Oh, okay."

"None as hot as you, though."

Next, she sucked on my nipples. Her eyes continued to suggest what naughty fantasies she was having. I'd never had a girl look at me like she wanted to fuck my brains out. It lit a fire in between my legs, and I

couldn't resist reaching for the spot and rubbing myself. My tight jeans were pressed firmly against my pussy, and I felt my pubic mound pulsing and tingling underneath.

With the experience I was racking up, I almost preferred this now. It was so awesome feeling myself getting hotter and wetter, feeling the need of my arousal shift from a pleasurable curiosity to almost this primal craving to put something inside me. With Peyton's tongue giving my nipples plenty of attention, I went through those modes, writhing underneath her as the temperature in my body went up a few more degrees, as my mind realized the depth and emptiness that was irritating me more and more.

She gave my nipple a loud, parting smooch. I moaned. Then she blew on it, and I nearly creamed myself.

"You like being a girl, don't you?" she asked.

"I don't hate it," I said.

"I'm gonna get a better answer out of you."

Next, she removed my jeans— engaging my legs in a tug-of-war to even begin to get the tight denim off my hips. They weren't that wide. The jeans were just tiny.

What had been hidden beneath them was a pink thong that was partially twisted and partially soaked. Tiffany was shaved down there, just like Peyton. Looking past my navel and seeing a hint of my pussy lips was such a great view. And my arousal was rapidly growing. I already wanted my hands on a dildo. My partner had other ideas.

Peyton lowered her face to my groin. Oral sex was completely new territory for me-regardless of what genitals I had. My spine immediately tingled as her tongue reached out and flicked across my womanhood.

My legs trembled. And my O-shaped lips let out a long, soft moan.

God, this is amazing, I thought.

I'd watched lesbian sex before. Now I was having it!

She brought her face closer, until my pussy and her mouth were basically kissing. I couldn't even begin to describe the technique and the motions involved, but her tongue was the primary player, lapping repeatedly across my vulva and lashing at my clitoris. She used her lungs too, blowing and sucking. Within a minute, I was thrashing and squealing, barely able to contain my pleasure, and then not wanting to. My new voice was so sexy, and I wanted my partner to know how awesome it felt to have my pussy eaten out.

"Oh, yes!" | cried. "Yes!"

These apartments had some thin walls. I had no doubt that our sounds of sex could be heard by some of our neighbors, if they were awake.

Oh well!

I came. Just from Peyton's lips and tongue, and that magic she performed. Hot contractions went through my groin. If there was juice from it, I didn't see it; she licked it all up, burying her tongue deep inside my pussy and scooping it out.

The orgasm didn't tire me at all. I was still buzzing

from head to toe, still wanting sexual satisfaction however I could achieve it.

I had to repay the favor, obviously. I had never eaten a girl out, but l'd learned a few lessons from firsthand experience. Peyton undressed and revealed to me a pussy that was wet with arousal. And since it was a pussy that l'd had-and frequently enjoyed —over the past few days, I knew precisely how it was wired. I planted my face against her hot mound and went at it, licking her folds and sliding my tongue repeatedly and aggressively over her clitoris. At the same time, I fondled my huge tits and fingered myself.

My erotic fantasies seemed almost foreign to me

now, because I found myself having so much fun having lesbian sex. It was so much more intimate, with my face between her legs, every flick of my tongue resulting in a moan from the other end of Peyton's naked, sexy body. I inhaled her and tasted her, and ravenously thrust my tongue into her, licking every inch I could reach and drooling all over her pussy.

I showed my worth by bringing her to a screamingorgasm.

After that, we embraced and fingered each other to more orgasms. Before I knew it, the clock said it was past midnight, and we were panting and sweating and sore.

"Oh, I think my body's had enough," Peyton said, sprawling out with perspiration glistening on her sexy navel. She was by far the hottest woman I'd seen naked, and having been in her body didn't stop me from enjoying the sights. Naked women never went out of style. Then she looked at me suddenly. "We could borrow some other bodies."

"Like who?" | said.

"Anyone. And that's the fun part." She pushed me down and kissed me ravenously one more time. Then she said, "Just relax. And I'll see you on the other side." How could I even begin to relax after all that? It took a while. My heart was pounding, and my mind was reeling after all that passionate sex. But having her in my arms slowly brought me serenity.

It wouldn't be bad like this, I thought, gazing at my massive breasts. I was just coming off the best sex l'd ever had, so it wasn't an unbiased opinion.

Still...

Lying there, I began to hear the ringing in my ears.

And I thought I heard my name being called.

Whispered, from far away. And then the room seemed to split in half, as if my head were pushing through the membrane of reality. The colors faded and turned slightly hazy, and the astral form of Peyton was standing there, pulling on my arm and taking me out of my corporeal form.

"Hey," she said. The word echoed.

"Hey, yourself," I said.

"Who should we be now?"

I had an idea.

I grabbed her by the waist—it was like grabbing a person made of electricity. She zapped and sparked against my fingers. Then I jumped, and we floated right through the ceiling. The bodies of the upstairs neighbors must've been directly above us, because I never had the chance to look around. All of a sudden, I had returned to the physical world, heavy with mass and wrapped in a sheet. The pressure on my belly immediately signified that I wasn't the man.

The man was next to me. And he rolled over.

"This must be the guy who keeps playing drums,

and—oh, I didn't know his wife was pregnant."

"Yep," I said, cradling my belly. It wasn't

comfortable on my back; it felt like my internal organs were pressed down underneath a bowling ball. I certainly had a new respect for what pregnant women had to deal with.

But the exhaustion was gone.

I was awake. I was horny all over again.

Peyton rubbed my big belly. Quite quickly, a bulge

began to manifest in her gym shorts, which then became a raging boner. I reached over and squeezed it, feeling how hard and erect she was. It didn't bother me in the slightest to grab someone else's cock. Because being in the astral plane had changed my perspective.

These were just bodies. Vessels. Fun vessels. And not aking advantage of that was like paying to enter a amusement park and not riding any of the rides.

I had her attention, and soon she had mine when her fingers dipped to my female playground-which was obstructed on this body by the gargantuan curve of my midsection. But everything else was the same, and soon I was moaning happily from the thrusting of her fingers inside my snatch. The warmth of arousal cocooned me, and the aches and pains of my pregnancy faded behind the rising pleasure.

Out came her erection, and I stroked her for real.

We kissed and mingled. She seemed to be more hesitant now. Probably it was my extra cargo. I was more fragile.

"It'd be hot if you gave me a blowjob," she admitted.

"Okay," I said.

"Oh, I was just kind of joking, I mean, you don't

have to, if..."

"I'm so turned on," I said. "And the way you smell

is driving me crazy, in a good way."

I heaved myself over, holding my belly with one hand so as to cushion the effects of my movements.

Peyton lied back, her cock a stiff mast already leaking pre-cum. With my pregnant belly and tits sagging underneath me, I bent down and brought my mouth to her manhood. It wasn't like anything l'd ever put between my lips; it was warm, and throbbing, and so alive. It hardened even more as I sucked it, sliding my tongue and the inside of my cheeks against the long, thick shaft. When Peyton began to moan, I knew I was doing a good job.

It wasn't my first time with this cock. But this man had been a stranger last time. Not this time. I tried to be thorough, slurping on every inch I could reach-but not all the inches, because my throat was in the way. I played with her balls. I licked up her pre-cum. And I got hornier and hornier, rubbing my own pussy and being continually turned on by the weight of my belly. There was another hot load of cum inside those testicles, and I wanted it.

I couldn't wait, either. After slobbering all over

Peyton's cock, I climbed over her and straddled her. The pregnancy made it a burden to lift myself up, but it was worth it when I sat down, and her girth and length entered me. I supported myself on her pectoral muscles and rocked my body forward and backward rather than trying to go up and down. Every time was incredible. I was so tight and wet, and the sensation was twice as pleasurable as what it was in Tiffany's body.

It was the pregnancy. It had to be.

God, I loved it.

"We could go all night," Peyton suggested. "Keep finding people asleep. We never have to deal with being tired. We can have all their energy to ourselves."

"Yes," I moaned, my tits slapping up and down. The rhythm had activated lactation, as milk droplets began to leak out.

I felt so full of life. And purpose. And cock.

"Yes! Yes!"

My efforts rewarded me with a climax, with Peyton's

hot cum shooting deep inside me. I trembled and tingled, the jizz squirting with **** and filling me up.

I collapsed next to her.

After a moment, she asked, "Where to next?"

"Just hold me with your big, manly arms for a

while," I said. She did. "Yeah. Oh, that's nice."

"What now? You want your feet rubbed?"

"I wouldn't mind."

Epilogue

"Now, wasn't that a fantastic vacation?" Dad said as we entered our apartment.

If only I could remember any of it. Supposedly there'd been hiking, fishing, and a surprise meteor shower, but l'd experienced none of those. "Yep, it was sure memorable," I told him, carrying all my luggage in.

Once again, I was annoyed by Mom making me pack so much. When I finally moved out, I'd probably have less to pack than what we took on vacation.

I went into my bedroom and closed the door.

Recently, my new ability had me wondering about my future. It was cool just floating around and taking over people's bodies without them knowing-and having sex—but surely there were more possibilities for using it for a better purpose. Like Superman didn't use his X-ray vision to peer through walls and watch women undress. He did hero stuff.

And astral projection was kind of like a superpower.

An hour later, I was watching some TV when there was a knock on my door. Dad opened up. "Son, there's a young woman who wants to see you."

In walked my neighbor.

After all our adventures, it was the first time we'd met while being inside our proper bodies. It actually made me nervous, her seeing the eighteen-year-old guy who she'd shared so many erotic moments with. I was pretty average in the looks department. And also she was like twenty-five, or thereabouts. She came in wearing jeans and a casual T-shirt, looking more like a college girl than any spiritual explorer.

Still hot as hell, though.

She sat on my bed and looked at me while Dad

shut the door.

"Hey," she said, and extended her hand to me. She

couldn't hold in her laughter. "I'm Peyton. I live next door."

I shook her hand. "I'm Cameron."

"Nice to meet you."

"You too."

"Usually meeting people works the other way," she

said. "The introductions, and then all the hot sex."

"Yeah, we did it backward," I said.

"I liked it, though."

"Me too."

We sat there. It had been a long time since l'd had a

girl in my bedroom—in the physical world, anyway.

Even after all we'd been through, I didn't know what to say next. Was she here just to hang out? Where we going to strip down and get freaky in five seconds?

Peyton: "So. You wanna go on a date?"

"Will it involve other people's bodies?" | asked.

"Nope. Just a date."

I nodded. "Sure."

"I know I'm older, but it doesn't bother me. If it

doesn't bother you."

"Nope."

More awkward silence. I was starting to get an erection. I remembered the taste of her pussy. Maybe we could trade bodies, and she could fuck me. But my bed was squeaky. It'd be better if we did that in her apartment.

I started to get up.

She stopped me.

"Okay, fine," she sighed, locking the bedroom door. "I still wanna go on a date. But...first do you wanna be me and suck my dick?"

"God yes. I'll happily swallow all my-| mean, your

cum."

"That sounds hot."

So, we relaxed on my bed and entered the astral

plane once again.