The hospital room was quiet, the only sound the steady, soft beep of the heart monitor. Jake Gardner lay still in the narrow bed, his own body a strange and distant shell. He wasn’t in it anymore. His consciousness floated, untethered, in a small, quivering puddle of violet slime that had oozed from his own limp penis and now pooled on the crisp white sheets.

He’d been walking home from the bar, a little after two, when the sky had flashed purple. Something small and hot had slammed into the back of his head. That was the last thing he remembered as Jake. Now he was… this.

Move, he thought. The purple mass jiggled. It was like trying to flex a muscle he’d never had. He concentrated, pushing his awareness to the edge of his form. The slime bulged, then stretched. It was malleable, almost like clay, but slick and cool to his own non-existent touch. He found that if he focused, he could will it into shapes. A lump. A disc. A crude hand.

But the easiest shape, the one that felt most natural for motion, was a tube. He compressed himself, willing the puddle to draw up into a thick, foot-long cylinder. It wobbled, then stood upright on the sheet. He looked through it, his vision a strange, panoramic blur. He could see the room, see his own body breathing softly, the IV drip in his arm. A wave of vertigo washed through him—or whatever passed for vertigo in a state of sentient jelly.

Just as he was getting the hang of inching his tubular form across the mattress, the door to the private room hissed open.

A nurse stepped in, her soft-soled shoes silent on the linoleum. Jake froze, his slime-body going still. She was young, maybe mid-twenties, with her blond hair tied back in a messy but efficient bun. She hummed softly to herself as she moved to the monitors, checking the readings. Her name tag, pinned to the front of her pale blue scrubs, read AVA APPLEBOTTOM, RN.

Jake watched her. A familiar, low heat began to glow somewhere in his core. It was arousal, pure and simple. He’d always appreciated a pretty woman, and Ava, with her slender frame and the way her scrubs tightened over a surprisingly generous backside as she leaned over to adjust a dial, was definitely pretty.

But alongside that heat came something new. A primal, insistent pull. An instinct, deep and wordless, that screamed at him. Get inside. Get inside her.

The thought should have horrified him. Instead, it felt as natural as breathing used to. He was a passenger in his own life, a ghost in a gooey shell. He needed a vehicle. She was right there.

Ava finished her check and turned toward the bed, her eyes scanning Jake’s unconscious form. She didn’t look down at the sheets.

This was his chance.

He coiled his tubular body like a spring and pushed off from the mattress. He aimed for her slightly parted lips, hoping to slide right down her throat.

He missed.

His slime-body smacked against the front of her scrubs, right between her small breasts, and stuck there with a soft plap.

Ava gasped, her hands flying to her chest. “What the—?” Her fingers touched the cool, gelatinous mass. Her eyes widened in shock and confusion. She swatted at it, a panicked reflex. “Get off! What is this?”

Jake, disoriented but clinging fast, reacted. He couldn’t go up, so he went down. He liquefied his form slightly, sliding down the smooth fabric of her top. He reached the waistband of her scrubs pants, found a tiny gap where the fabric didn’t quite meet her hip, and poured himself through it.

“Oh my God!” Ava cried, frantically patting at her clothes, her voice rising in panic. She stumbled back toward the door, her hand reaching for the knob.

Inside her pants, it was dark and warm. Jake flowed over the curve of her hip, down the line of her thigh. The instinct was a drumbeat now. There. Go there. He could feel the heat radiating from her core. He slithered upward, over the thin cotton of her panties, and found his target.

He didn’t pause. He gathered himself and pushed, his form becoming a focused, penetrating stream. He met resistance for only a second before he melted through the fabric and into her.

The sensation was extraordinary. It wasn’t like entering a room; it was like dissolving into warm water. His slime-body lost its cohesion, merging, blending with her flesh from the inside. He felt nerves fire, muscles twitch. He felt her panic, a distant, fading echo of What’s happening? that was quickly swallowed by the tide of his own consciousness expanding to fill the space.

His vision, which had been a vague sense of light and shadow, snapped into perfect, dizzying clarity.

He was looking at the door. His—no, her—hand was on the knob. He felt the cool metal under his fingertips. He felt the soft cotton of the scrubs against his skin. He felt the weight of hair on the back of his neck. He took a breath, and it was Ava’s lungs that filled.

Oh, shit, Jake thought, with Ava’s voice. It worked.

He let go of the doorknob and brought his hands up in front of his face. Slender fingers, a silver ring on the right index finger, neatly trimmed nails painted a chipped pale pink. He turned them over, marveling.

The initial shock gave way to a giddy, overwhelming relief. He had a body again! He wasn’t a puddle! He wiggled the toes inside her comfortable sneakers. He rolled her—his—shoulders.

And then the arousal returned, hotter than before, amplified by new nerve endings and a flood of unfamiliar hormones. It buzzed through Ava’s body, settling low in her belly.

He had to look. He had to see.

He locked the hospital room door with a soft click, then turned to the small mirror above the sink. The woman staring back was pale, her blue eyes wide with an expression that was equal parts terror and exhilaration. Jake smiled, and Ava’s lips curved. It was a strange smile, not quite hers.

“Hi, Ava,” he whispered to the reflection. His voice was higher, softer than he was used to. He liked it.

His hands went to the hem of the scrubs top, pulling it over his head. He let it fall to the floor. The bra was simple, white, barely containing what was, admittedly, a modest chest. Jake cupped them, his new hands feeling the soft weight. A jolt of pleasure shot through him. Wow.

He turned, looking over his shoulder at the mirror. The scrubs pants were peeled down next, revealing simple cotton panties that stretched over a rear end that was, in Jake’s new and expert opinion, absolutely spectacular. Round, full, perfectly shaped. He squeezed a cheek, and a laugh bubbled out of him—a light, feminine sound.

He was so engrossed in his exploration, running his hands over the smooth skin of Ava’s stomach, her thighs, dipping a finger beneath the waistband of her panties to feel the damp heat within, that he almost didn’t hear the knock.

Three sharp raps on the door.

Jake jumped, his heart—Ava’s heart—hammering against his ribs. “Just a minute!” he called, the voice shaky. He scrambled for the discarded scrubs, yanking the pants up and pulling the top over his head, his hands fumbling with the ties.

He unlocked the door and opened it a crack. Another nurse, older with tired eyes, stood there.

“Everything okay, Ava? You’re due to clock out. Lopez is here for the night shift.”

“Yeah! Yes. Fine. Just… felt a little faint,” Jake said, trying to mimic Ava’s earlier cadence. “I’m heading out now.”

The older nurse nodded, not looking too closely. “Get some rest. You look flushed.”

Jake mumbled a thanks and hurried down the hall, following the signs to the staff exit. He found Ava’s car—a sensible compact—in the employee lot by hitting the key fob and listening for the beep. Inside, he took a deep breath. The smell was all her: a faint trace of perfume, coffee, and antiseptic.

Using the fingerprint lock on her phone, he navigated to her apartment’s address. The drive was a blur of concentration, his hands gripping the wheel too tightly. Every shift of his weight in the seat, every glance in the rearview mirror at a stranger’s face, sent a fresh thrill through him.

The apartment was on the third floor of a quiet complex. He let himself in, the place tidy and decorated in soft greys and blues. It was empty, silent.

Finally, alone.

The tension he’d been holding since the hospital melted away, replaced once more by that buzzing curiosity. He didn’t bother with the lights. He kicked off the sneakers, peeled off the scrubs right there in the living room, and stood naked in the dim light filtering through the blinds.

He touched himself again, more deliberately now. He learned what made this body sigh, what made it shiver. He was on the couch, two of Ava’s fingers working inside himself, his head thrown back against the cushions, when the distinct sound of a key in the lock cut through the heavy silence.

The door swung open.

A young woman stepped in, silhouetted against the bright hallway light. She was dressed in a tight, grey athletic jumpsuit, her long brunette hair pulled into a high ponytail. A sheen of sweat glistened on her skin. She was breathing hard from her run.

She flicked on the living room light and froze.

“Ava?” she said, her voice a mix of surprise and confusion. Her eyes took in the scene: her roommate, naked and spread on the couch, fingers glistening. “What… what are you doing?”

Jake, momentarily stunned, yanked his hand away and sat up, trying to cover himself with a cushion. This was Gabbie, he realized, reading the name on a discarded package by the door. Gabbie Carson. And she was… stunning. The jumpsuit clung to every curve of her slender frame, but it was the front of it, straining over an impossibly generous bust, that utterly captivated him. Where Ava was all rear, Gabbie was all front.

The sight sent a fresh, violent surge of arousal through Ava’s body. He felt a corresponding squirm, a visceral pull from deep within. It was the slime, his real body, still coiled inside Ava, reacting to the new, tempting vessel that had just walked in.

“Gabbie! Hey,” Jake said, forcing Ava’s voice into a casual tone. It came out breathy. “Just… uh, just cooling down. Had a weird shift.”

Gabbie’s brow furrowed. She closed the door, her eyes never leaving him. “Cooling down? Like that?” She shook her head, a faint blush on her cheeks. “Are you okay? You’re acting strange.”

“I’m great,” Jake said, standing up, letting the cushion fall. He took a step toward her, a warm, inviting smile on Ava’s face. The instinct was a roar in his blood—arousal, pure and simple. He wanted her. But he couldn’t just take her; that would ruin everything. He had to be smooth, to make her want it. “Better now that you’re here. You look… incredible.”

Gabbie took a step back, her back hitting the door. Her brow furrowed. “Ava, what’s gotten into you?” Her voice held a note of warning, but also confusion. “You know I’m not… we’re not like that.”

“We could be,” Jake murmured, his voice low and persuasive. He closed the distance slowly, giving her a chance to step aside. He reached out, not to grab, but to gently brush a damp strand of hair from her cheek. “I’ve just had the strangest, most intense night. I feel… alive. Don’t you ever just want to feel alive?”

He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. “I’ve been thinking about you.” It was a gamble, but the Ava he’d briefly inhabited had no strong memories of Gabbie one way or the other. He poured all of his own wanting into the words.

For a second, he thought it might work. Gabbie hesitated, her breath catching. But then she shook her head, a firm, definite motion. She put a hand on his chest, holding him at bay. “Ava, stop. This isn’t you. You’re freaking me out.”

The rejection sent a spike of frustration through him, and beneath it, that deeper, primal instinct shifted. The simple arousal twisted into something more urgent and invasive. If she won’t have you… take her.

“Don’t be scared,” Jake said, but his tone changed. The coaxing note vanished, replaced by a flat determination. He grabbed the hand on his chest, his grip tight.

Gabbie’s eyes widened. “Let go!” She tried to pull away, to shove past him, but Jake was driven now by a different hunger. He pushed her against the wall, his mouth crashing down on hers.

She turned her face, the kiss landing on her cheek. “Get off me!” She brought her hands up, shoving hard at his shoulders.

He fumbled for the zipper of her jumpsuit, yanking it down. The fabric parted. Gabbie kneed him in the thigh, a solid shot that made him grunt, but he barely registered the pain. The slime inside him wasn’t just pulsing with desire anymore—it was planning.

He got the jumpsuit down to her waist, trying to pin her arms, but she was writhing, her panic giving her strength. “Help! Someone!”

He couldn’t hold her. He couldn’t convince her. The idea came, not as a last resort, but as the obvious, glorious solution. Become her. Then she’ll want it.

He stopped wrestling her. He took half a step back, just enough to focus inward.

At the junction of Ava’s thighs, a warmth gathered. A smooth, shiny tendril of violet slime, thick as two fingers, pushed its way out. It lengthened, snaking through the air toward the struggling Gabbie.

Gabbie saw it. Her screams died in her throat, her eyes blank with utter, incomprehensible horror. “What is that?!”

The slime-tendril darted forward, slipping swiftly beneath the waistband of her panties. She made a choked, guttural sound as the cool, alien sensation touched her.

The connection snapped into place. Jake willed himself to move. His consciousness flowed out of Ava, down the shimmering bridge, and into Gabbie.

Ava’s body went limp, slumping to the floor.

In Gabbie’s body, Jake opened his eyes. He was on the floor, his back to the wall. The weight on his chest was immense and wonderful. He took a deep, shuddering breath with Gabbie’s lungs, a grin spreading across her face. He had what he wanted. Now to use it.

A soft groan came from across the room. Ava—the real Ava—pushed herself up on her elbows, blinking dazedly. She looked at her own naked body on the floor, then at Gabbie, who was sitting against the wall, the jumpsuit pooled at her waist.

“Gabbie?” Ava’s voice was hoarse with disorientation. “What… what’s going on? Why am I on the floor?”

Perfect. Jake kept Gabbie’s expression soft, concerned. He made his voice gentle, a little breathless. “Ava? Oh, thank god you’re okay.” He shifted, pretending to steady himself. “You… you just collapsed. We were… you came onto me, really strong, and then you just passed out.”

Ava clutched her head, fragments of memory returning—the hospital, the purple slime, a feeling of violation. But it was foggy, nightmarish. “I… I came onto you?”

“Yeah,” Jake said, crawling over to her on his knees, using Gabbie’s body to its full, sympathetic effect. He put a hand on her shoulder. “It was wild. You were saying you felt so alive, and then… you just dropped. I was so worried.” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “But you know… before you fell… it was kind of hot.”

Ava stared at him, confusion warring with the lingering echo of Jake’s own arousal, which still hummed in her nervous system. “It was?”

“Mmhmm,” Jake murmured. He guided her hand, Ava’s own hand, to rest on his—on Gabbie’s—chest, over the sports bra. “We were just getting started. Don’t you want to keep going? I do.”

He kissed her, softly this time, using Gabbie’s lips expertly. Ava was pliant, bewildered, her body responding to the stimulation even as her mind rebelled. She kissed back, tentatively.

Jake deepened the kiss, his hands roaming over Ava’s body, re-familiarizing himself with its curves. This was better. This was control. He had her.

But then Ava broke the kiss, pulling back slightly. Her eyes, clearing, focused on his face—on Gabbie’s face. There was a sharpening suspicion there. “Gabbie… your eyes. They look… different. And you’re acting so strange.”

Shit. The cover was fraying. He couldn’t have her figuring it out, not now. The instinct flared, simpler this time: Retreat. Re-group.

“My eyes are just for you,” Jake whispered, but he was already focusing inward once more. The tool was there, ready.

From between Gabbie’s legs, the purple slime emerged again, a glistening strand. Ava’s suspicious gaze dropped, saw it, and her confusion crystallized into terror. She remembered.

She opened her mouth to scream, but Jake was faster. He lunged, not to kiss her, but to hold her still as the slime-tendril found its mark, entering her with a slick, practiced ease.

The transfer was instantaneous. Gabbie’s body went limp, collapsing onto Ava.

And Jake opened his eyes, staring up from the rug. He was back in Ava. He flexed her fingers. Home. Ava was unconscious beneath Gabbie’s dead weight, and Gabbie was just an empty shell beside them.

He sighed, a little frustrated, but smiled. It was a minor setback. He had all the time in the world, and now he had two bodies to play with. The game had just gotten more interesting.
He pushed Gabbie’s unconscious body off of him and stood up, looking down at the two beautiful women lying helpless on his floor. One blond, one brunette. One with an ass that wouldn’t quit, one with a chest that defied belief. Both were now his costumes, his vehicles, his playthings.

A slow, triumphant smile spread across Ava’s face. The night had started with a meteorite and a hospital bed. It had ended here, with infinite possibility lying naked at his feet.

He had a lot of exploring to do. And all the time in the world to do it.