Welcome to

I was lounging on our battered sofa, scrolling mindlessly through my phone, when Michelle burst through the front door, her brown eyes wide with an energy I rarely saw outside of a soccer match.

“You are not going to believe what happened,” she said, tossing her keys onto the counter with a clatter.

“You finally won the lottery and we can move out of this dump?” I asked, not looking up.

“Better. Way better.” She plopped down next to me, making the old springs squeak. “I figured out how to… leave my body.”

That got my attention. I lowered my phone. “Michelle, if this is about that weird incense you bought last week, I told you, it just smells like a forest fire.”

“No, listen! It’s called astral projection. I was meditating, and suddenly, I was floating near the ceiling, looking down at myself on the floor. And then… I figured out I could pull other spirits out, too. Swap them around.”

I stared at her. My roommate was many things—a fantastic cook, a loyal friend, a terrifying opponent in Mario Kart—but she wasn’t prone to outright delusions. “Okay. Prove it.”

She grinned, a brilliant, challenging flash of white teeth. “How?”

My eyes drifted to the other occupant of the room. Buttercup, Michelle’s fluffy orange tabby, was curled in a sunbeam on the rug, purring like a tiny engine. That cat adored me. More than most animals did, actually. It was weirdly flattering.

“Swap with Buttercup,” I said, gesturing with my chin. “Right now. Let’s see it.”

Michelle’s grin didn’t falter. “You got it.” She sat cross-legged on the floor, facing the cat. She closed her eyes, took a few deep, deliberate breaths, and her body went unnaturally still. A soft, almost imperceptible shimmer seemed to pass from her to the cat.

Buttercup, who had been sleeping, suddenly jerked. The cat stood up, stretched with an oddly stiff, deliberate motion, and then looked directly at me with Michelle’s intense, intelligent gaze in its green eyes. It then promptly tried to lick its own shoulder, overbalanced, and tumbled onto its side with a soft mrrp.

Meanwhile, Michelle’s body slumped. Then it slowly got to its hands and knees. It looked around the room with wide, confused eyes, then focused on Buttercup’s body. It—she—the Michelle-body let out a plaintive, confused meow. It crawled a few feet toward the sunbeam, then just sat there, staring at its own human hands with fascination before trying to bat at a dust mote drifting in the light.

My jaw was on the floor. “Holy shit.”

A minute later, the same shimmer reversed. Buttercup’s body gave a full-body shake and trotted off to the kitchen, presumably to check its food bowl. Michelle gasped back into her own form, blinking rapidly.

“See?” she said, her voice a little hoarse. “Told you.”

“I… yeah. I believe you.” The words felt inadequate. The world had just fundamentally shifted. “What was it like?”

A slow, delighted smile spread across her face. “It was… incredible. The senses are so different. Everything is smells and textures and angles. And the freedom! Being that small, that agile…” She looked over at Buttercup, who was now meticulously washing a paw. “I want to do it again. For longer. Like, an hour. Just to explore the neighborhood, see what it’s like.”

“Wait, you’re going to just… be a cat for an hour?”

“Why not? It’ll be fun. But,” she said, becoming serious. “You gotta watch my body. The cat’s soul will be in there. Just make sure it doesn’t wander off or try to climb the bookshelf or something. It should just kinda… sit there. Be cat-like.”

I looked at her human form, then at the oblivious cat. “Okay. I can babysit a human-shaped cat for an hour.”

“You’re the best.” She kissed my cheek quickly. “Okay, same drill. Back in a bit.”

She sat down again, closed her eyes, and that shimmer passed between them once more. Buttercup’s body paused its washing, stood up, and gave me a very deliberate, very human nod with its furry head. Then it trotted to the cat flap and slipped outside into the evening.

Michelle’s body, now inhabited by the cat’s spirit, slumped for a second before getting back on its hands and knees. It made a soft, curious noise and began to sniff at the carpet.

I sighed, settling back on the couch. This was going to be a long hour.

Except it wasn’t.

The moment the cat flap clicked shut, the behavior changed.

Michelle’s body stopped sniffing. It sat back on its heels, then smoothly, fluidly, rose to its feet. It brushed off the knees of its jeans with a familiar, human gesture. Then it turned to look at me.

The eyes were still Michelle’s warm brown, but the expression behind them was sharp, calculating, and utterly alien. A slow, sly smile touched lips I’d seen a thousand times.

“Well,” the creature in Michelle’s body said, its voice a perfect mimic of my roommate’s, but with a huskier, more deliberate cadence. “That was tedious.”

I froze. “Uhhhhhh......What?”

“Acting dumb. So boring.” It—she?—rolled Michelle’s shoulders and stretched, the movement sinuous and exaggerated. “But necessary. Couldn’t have her knowing, could we?”

“Knowing what?” I was on my feet now, my heart hammering against my ribs.

“That we’re not the simple little furballs you think we are.” She took a step toward me. “Cats have been around humans for millennia. We observe. We learn. We understand far more than we let on. Playing the fool is just… good strategy.”

My mind was reeling. “You… you can talk?”

“Of course I can talk. I’ve heard every conversation in this apartment. I know your secrets. I know her secrets.” Another step closer. The cat-spirit in Michelle’s body was moving with a predatory grace Michelle herself never possessed. “And I know what you like.”

I took an involuntary step back, hitting the edge of the sofa. “What are you talking about?”She was right in front of me now, looking up at me with Michelle’s face. She reached out and placed a hand on my chest. It was warm through my t-shirt. “You’re a healthy young male. I’ve seen the way you look at her when she comes out of the shower. The way you look at her friends when they visit.” Her other hand came up, a finger tracing my jawline. “It’s a simple biological drive. I understand it perfectly.”

“This is insane,” I breathed, but I didn’t push her away. I couldn’t move.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” she purred, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re not going to tell Michelle about this little conversation. You’re going to let her think her experiment was a complete success. That I was just a dumb animal in her body for an hour.”

“Why would I do that?”

The smile turned wicked. She leaned in, her breath hot against my ear. “Because I’m going to give you a… private incentive. A thank you for your discretion.”

She pulled back just enough to look me in the eye. Then, slowly, deliberately, she brought Michelle’s hand up to her own mouth. She puckered her lips slightly and slid the tip of her index finger between them, her eyes locked on mine. She made a soft, sucking sound, then pulled the wet finger out with a pop.

My whole body went rigid. The implication was unmistakable.

“A secret between us,” she murmured, her gaze dropping meaningfully to my waist. “And a very persuasive reason to keep it. What do you say?”

I couldn’t speak. My mind was a riot of confusion, disbelief, and a dark, traitorous thrill that shot straight to my core. This was Michelle’s body, my friend’s body, standing before me, but the intelligence behind those eyes was ancient, alien, and dangerously persuasive.

“I…” The word croaked out of me.

“Shhh,” she whispered, placing that same damp finger against my lips. The taste of salt and her lip gloss was startlingly intimate. “Don’t think. Just agree.”

Her other hand slid down my chest, over my stomach, and her fingers hooked into the waistband of my sweatpants. The look in her eyes was pure, unabashed feline curiosity mixed with a promise of decadent pleasure.

“You want to,” she stated, not asked. “Your body is already saying yes.”

She was right. I was painfully hard. The insanity of the situation, the forbidden nature of it, the sheer taboo of what was happening—it was short-circuiting my higher reasoning. This wasn’t Michelle. But it was her skin, her scent, her full lips now parting in a smile as she felt my reaction.

“Good,” she purred.

In one smooth motion, she pushed me back onto the sofa. I fell without resistance, looking up at her as she stood over me, a goddess of mischief in my roommate’s form. She knelt on the floor between my legs, her hands on my knees, pushing them apart. She held my gaze, that sly smile never fading, as she leaned forward.

But instead of going straight for where I expected, she nuzzled her face against my inner thigh, rubbing her cheek there like a cat marking its territory. A soft, rumbling sound vibrated from her throat—a purr. The sensation was utterly bizarre and electrifying.

“You smell of anxiety,” she murmured, her voice muffled against my leg. “And desire. A potent mix.”

She kissed the fabric over my thigh, then slowly, agonizingly slowly, began to nose her way upward. Her hands slid under my shirt, cool against my feverish skin, her short nails scraping lightly. Every movement was deliberate, observational, like she was learning me through touch.

When her mouth finally found me through the fabric, a hot, wet pressure, I gasped and arched off the couch. She chuckled, the sound vibrating through me.

“So responsive,” she said, pulling back just enough to hook her fingers in the waistband of my pants and boxers. In one tug, she bared me to the cool air of the apartment—and to her intense, observing gaze.

For a long moment, she just looked, her head tilted, as if examining fascinating prey. Then her human façade slipped just a fraction. Her tongue darted out for a quick, rough lick from base to tip, not a human kiss, but the coarse, grooming lick of a cat. It was so startlingly other that I cried out.

She seemed to relish my shock. “Different, isn’t it?” she said, before closing her mouth over me properly.

The contrast was dizzying. The act itself was all human technique—deep, sucking pressure, skillful use of her tongue—but the rhythm was off, punctuated by those occasional, rough, lapping strokes that were purely animal. She purred constantly, the vibration adding a layer of sensation that made my toes curl. Her hands, Michelle’s strong, capable hands, gripped my hips, holding me in place as she took me deeper, her eyes open and watching my face the entire time.

It was the most surreal, most unnerving, and most intensely arousing experience of my life. I was being expertly seduced and consumed by a primal intelligence wearing my best friend’s skin. My hands tangled in her soft brown hair, not sure if I was trying to pull her closer or push her away.

Just as I was teetering on the edge, a sound cut through the haze of pleasure—the faint snick of the cat flap from the kitchen.

She felt me tense and pulled off with a wet, final pop, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. In an instant, the sharp, cunning light in her eyes dimmed, replaced by a vacant, placid dullness. She slid my clothing back into place with swift, efficient motions and then simply collapsed onto the floor beside the sofa, curling onto her side, blinking slowly at nothing.

Seconds later, Buttercup’s orange form trotted into the living room. The cat looked at its own human body on the floor, then at me, sprawled and disheveled on the couch. Buttercup’s body gave that same deliberate nod, then sat down and began to lick a paw with sudden, intense focus.

The shimmer passed.

Michelle’s body jerked. She sat up, shaking her head as if clearing water from her ears. “Whoa,” she laughed, her voice fully her own again. “That was wild! I chased a moth three blocks and caught it. You have no idea how satisfying that is.” She looked at me, still panting on the couch. “You okay? You look… flushed. Everything good here?”

I stared at her, at the genuine, cheerful confusion on her face. My heart was still pounding, the taste of her lip gloss was on my lips where her finger had been, and my body hummed with unfinished release.

The cat-spirit’s words echoed in my head. A secret between us.

“Yeah,” I managed, my voice rough. “Everything’s fine. Just… a little warm. You were right. She just… sat there. Mostly.”