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ZellRoze

Body Hopping?

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ZellRoze

 

Needed a place to ask and talk about an experience that seemed to really shake me up over the last few days. I can't get over it and it's driving me nuts.

I was watching the news the other night, and I was ignoring what the newscaster was saying, and just observing the whole scene behind the screen. I imagined being in her shoes. Not... "how cool would it be to do a newscast" but as in, I saw the camera, the studio, the prompter. I could smell the lights on the set as the newscast was read.

I felt her frustrations with her story and her mind wandered to dinner and her drive home. Then it jumped to the cameraman and his mind wandered while he worked the camera. Years of operating one, he was able to work it on instinct and hummed to a tune that was stuck in his head.

My wife asked if I was okay and snapped me back to... myself.

That night, it just got worse. My mind wandered off and I experienced my city as a whole (best way I could describe it). All at once, I could see from everyone's eyes, hear their mundane thoughts. Feel their fears and concerns. Everyone scurried about with their own lives, and I could feel the entirety of all of them.

And it just, really hit me how blind everyone was. The fear and frustrations this whole place has, how futile it felt knowing that each life was just mundane and had no direction. The people who wanted to do more and better the world were looked at by others with disregard because they had their own problems and couldn't be bothered.

I don't know how long I spiraled like this. I don't know if it was my imagination, (I am a writer, and that's how I get into character is by placing myself as them... really becoming that person in the way of thoughts and mannerisms.) or if it was something more.

When I came back to my senses, I have a huge weight on me. It's like I know something, but I can't seem to bring it forward and I'm clouded with a sense of depression and hopelessness that I can't shake off. I look at the news, and the people around me and I just feel like it's all futile and a big joke that no one knows they are the butt of.

 

 

Unfortunately, this wasn't my first time experiencing something like this. 

When I was 17, I was heavy into meditation and trying to astral project. I had a bad projection experience where I felt I was forced out of my body and slammed into another. It was odd. I was color blind and in what seemed to be a child's bedroom. It felt like I had a bad connection, but I got up to go to the bathroom and saw a face that wasn't mine. The shock was too much and I was yanked back into my body. The next day I drove to the house I was in and even saw the kid playing in the front yard. 

The next night, I tried to project again, only to be greeted by an almost 7 foot cloaked shade at the foot of my bed. Being a dumb kid (I'm almost 40 now) I got up, stared him down and told him to go **** off. I woke up with a massive nosebleed after that. 

I think the experiences are generally in separate categories though... I really don't know what to say about it. Just kinda lost and trying to find some answers. 

 

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DirtyDocMartens

There's a form of epilepsy that has symptoms similar to the ones you are describing. That might be a starting point. Good luck!

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ZellRoze

Any further information on this? or you want to just be vague to really drive home my spiraling depression by having me filled with self doubt and adding fuel to the fire with research since I can't really go into my doctor and say I'm having a psychic episode where I'm viewing a collective consciousness of the local populace, so I might be having seizures?

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freetoroam
22 minutes ago, ZellRoze said:

I can't really go into my doctor and say I'm having a psychic episode

That is exactly what you should be doing, is to go to your doctor.

As you are a writer from what you have stated, it all just appears that you have an active imagination, which is a good thing if you want to write stories, but it is nothing to do with actually reading peoples minds. 

You are imagining what they could be thinking because you are putting yourself in their shoes, that is what writers do.

What do you write about? 

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Habitat
53 minutes ago, ZellRoze said:

Any further information on this? or you want to just be vague to really drive home my spiraling depression by having me filled with self doubt and adding fuel to the fire with research since I can't really go into my doctor and say I'm having a psychic episode where I'm viewing a collective consciousness of the local populace, so I might be having seizures?

If you really are spiralling down into depression, time to do something about it, for your own sake and others around you, the rest of this story is pretty unimportant compared to this. This isn't trivial.

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ZellRoze
25 minutes ago, freetoroam said:

That is exactly what you should be doing, is to go to your doctor.

As you are a writer from what you have stated, it all just appears that you have an active imagination, which is a good thing if you want to write stories, but it is nothing to do with actually reading peoples minds. 

You are imagining what they could be thinking because you are putting yourself in their shoes, that is what writers do.

What do you write about? 

I write about various subjects. My first book was about a paranormal anthropologist who is trying to find other clan members of a Djinn he found. My second book is about the afterlife experiences of an old man who couldn't forive himself of his war crimes and refused to go through the "Process" of judgment and he meets others who did the same. 

I'm currently working on an novella for the orgin of Krampus and Santa Clause. 

I've talked to doctors about stuff like this, I'm already being treated for my depression and know when it hits. If it was another 'episode' then I'd not really be talking about it, just moving on. This was different. I was there. I was those people. It is so hard to really formulate into words and it sounds freaking crazy.

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ZellRoze
7 minutes ago, Habitat said:

If you really are spiralling down into depression, time to do something about it, for your own sake and others around you, the rest of this story is pretty unimportant compared to this. This isn't trivial.

I was trying to ask if there's any name for the vague illusion of epilepsy the first person was hinting about. If there is a medical symptom for what I experienced, just saying "here's a form of epilepsy that has symptoms similar to the ones you are describing... good luck" was really not helpful. 

I am already managing my symptoms and can tell the difference between a mundane issue and something more. 

I'm having some issues dealing with this and having someone simply toss around that I might have something medical wrong with me, but not really give me any specifics for me to look into... while "wishing me luck", is kinda an ***hat thing to do. 

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Habitat
9 minutes ago, ZellRoze said:

I'm having some issues dealing with this and having someone simply toss around that I might have something medical wrong with me, but not really give me any specifics for me to look into... while "wishing me luck", is kinda an ***hat thing to do

Get a couple of medical opinions about it, I wouldn't be hanging on the words of someone on a forum linking it to epilepsy, wanting further from them, it might be right for all I know, but it won't hurt to get some medical opinion either.

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Not A Rockstar
7 hours ago, ZellRoze said:

I'm having some issues dealing with this and having someone simply toss around that I might have something medical wrong with me,

Hi Zell, welcome to UM.

Forums are like anywhere else, and you meet all sorts and they have different expertise and views of it all. If you are under medical care and well versed in depression, then I will take your word for that and deal with this seeming empathy linkage you describe. I use those words to describe it, no clue what it might be better described as.

When I have events similar to this - sort of enhanced insights into others, sometimes on larger scales such as Society in general - I consider them to be more spiritual or religious in origin and as part of my own development as a decent human being. It is like more compassion opening up, as in the better we understand others the easier it is to care and forgive, if that makes sense.

I generally meditate on such insights, if it is more for me, and pray if it needs to be more for them. This is how I vent what I see on the emotional level, anyway. I have a very deep faith in Creator, so this works for me. 

The insights gained, sometimes go into stories, or sometimes just get filed away.

Despair is understandable, the pressure to sink us all into it is everywhere if you have eyes to see, but I have always been contrary and see this very contrariness as part of what I am here to do as a spiritual, compassionate person. I smile more and go out of my way to strive to be kind to people when I am out, and be positive.

Really, what else can you do? Go with it or fight it.

I fight.

JMO.

Peace.

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a.ham

This could certainly be epilepsy, or you could be experiencing a dissociative episode. Would recommend getting the opinion of a doctor or psychologist. 

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CuriousEye
On 10/27/2018 at 12:53 AM, ZellRoze said:

 

Needed a place to ask and talk about an experience that seemed to really shake me up over the last few days. I can't get over it and it's driving me nuts.

I was watching the news the other night, and I was ignoring what the newscaster was saying, and just observing the whole scene behind the screen. I imagined being in her shoes. Not... "how cool would it be to do a newscast" but as in, I saw the camera, the studio, the prompter. I could smell the lights on the set as the newscast was read.

I felt her frustrations with her story and her mind wandered to dinner and her drive home. Then it jumped to the cameraman and his mind wandered while he worked the camera. Years of operating one, he was able to work it on instinct and hummed to a tune that was stuck in his head.

My wife asked if I was okay and snapped me back to... myself.

That night, it just got worse. My mind wandered off and I experienced my city as a whole (best way I could describe it). All at once, I could see from everyone's eyes, hear their mundane thoughts. Feel their fears and concerns. Everyone scurried about with their own lives, and I could feel the entirety of all of them.

And it just, really hit me how blind everyone was. The fear and frustrations this whole place has, how futile it felt knowing that each life was just mundane and had no direction. The people who wanted to do more and better the world were looked at by others with disregard because they had their own problems and couldn't be bothered.

I don't know how long I spiraled like this. I don't know if it was my imagination, (I am a writer, and that's how I get into character is by placing myself as them... really becoming that person in the way of thoughts and mannerisms.) or if it was something more.

When I came back to my senses, I have a huge weight on me. It's like I know something, but I can't seem to bring it forward and I'm clouded with a sense of depression and hopelessness that I can't shake off. I look at the news, and the people around me and I just feel like it's all futile and a big joke that no one knows they are the butt of.

 

 

Unfortunately, this wasn't my first time experiencing something like this. 

When I was 17, I was heavy into meditation and trying to astral project. I had a bad projection experience where I felt I was forced out of my body and slammed into another. It was odd. I was color blind and in what seemed to be a child's bedroom. It felt like I had a bad connection, but I got up to go to the bathroom and saw a face that wasn't mine. The shock was too much and I was yanked back into my body. The next day I drove to the house I was in and even saw the kid playing in the front yard. 

The next night, I tried to project again, only to be greeted by an almost 7 foot cloaked shade at the foot of my bed. Being a dumb kid (I'm almost 40 now) I got up, stared him down and told him to go **** off. I woke up with a massive nosebleed after that. 

I think the experiences are generally in separate categories though... I really don't know what to say about it. Just kinda lost and trying to find some answers. 

 

Good evening, ZellRose.

I ignore whether you will eventually read this message sooner or later if you had been discouraged by the previous attempts to rationalize your condition as some mental disturbance, but I want to tell you your case is not unique. You are not insane, only neuroatypical and from a very rare breed in Western society likened to those of high-ranking empaths, mediums and practitioners of shamanistic or occult traditions.

Let me be straight: that is not body-hopping, that one shape-shifting ability popularized by television, cinema and anime tropes who consists about exchanging one's body, biological age, physical trait or overall phenotype with ours and seem pretty much like a very agressive form of biokinetic capability. Instead, yours - which is still an another aspect of the larger "shapeshifting" bracket - is actually from a sensorial, psychosomatic and even psionic order rather than a biological one-- your account seem to translate a heightened state of mirror-touch synesthesia known in parapsychology as mind possession. If one schorlary study wanted to coin a more elaborated word about it, we could call it otherwise "medianoia" (not "allonoia" whose correspond to the mind-exchanging subset of body-hopping) or "within [one's else] mind" in Greek. Whom to the action of feeling connected to the minds of the whole town, some call it panempathy. Lest a dimmer form of that: usually, panempathics's ability to delve into the unseen connection between every single human being or lifeform in this physical plane are either of a planetary or cosmic range.


In medical glossory, mirror-touch synesthesia is defined as below as:

       "a rare condition which causes individuals to experience a similar sensation in the same part of the body (such as touch) that another person feels. [...]"
        - Wikipedia.org, 'Mirror-touch synestesia' 
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mirror-touch_synesthesia

Most widely known cases of that medical condition are the phantom-limb syndrome experienced from individuals after amputation, sympathetic pregancy / Couvade syndrome (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Couvade_syndrome) from which males are experiencing in near-synchronicity the ongoing processes from which their wives, partners ormost rarely female relatives are passing through during pregnancy (major weight gain, morning nausea, altered sexual hormone production from predominantly male-to-female, disturbed sleep pattern, even sometimes to the most extreme cases, patterns such like labor pains, fatigue, postpartum depression, frequent nosebleed or development of secondary female sexual traits like larger milking breasts) . But some cases frequently thwarted off from the allopathic domain of studies - aside from systematically associating them to some traits about schizoid trouble disorder or schizophrenia undergone by individuals who frequently pass through "mystical experiences" - has spoke about some cases of psychics capable to fully master that ability and temporarily possess one's mind and body - sometimes on a semi-subliminal level so the possessed would note (almost) nothing out of ordinary aside feeling a little groggy, sometimes fully so the possessed would experience time-skips once recovering his will - see and feeling through their perspective and even, whether partially or fully, control the host body's motor skills and movements as if these were their own. 


I am well familiar with what you've passed through because that ability started also to me when I was a teenage boy, but a little much earlier compared to yours.
At age 14, when I was in second secondary grade, I dreamt about walking through one of the hallways of the school I was attending. That was probably the day and I was well familiar with every single corner of that room, expect than I immediatly felt something was wrong with me: the course of my sleepy vision was overwhelmingly detailled, realistic, tangible.

My peculiar upbriging enabled me to learn and read about Carl Jung and Sigmund Freud's respective philosophical and psychological speculations about the mechanism of mind, the Id and the Superego, about prophetical vision, religion, theology and the mythographical archetypes underlying each one's dreamscape at an age where most children were playing with their Magic & Wizard or Pokemon cards and where fast-reading a Harry Potter novel meant you were most certainly cleverer than the common Barbie doll collectioner or assumed Beyblade champion at the schoolyard. I suspect the conjuntion of all those elements has a role to play about how my tribulations with dreaming has quickly escalated through uncharted territory as I was growing up: at age 10, I became quickly self-aware when I was dreaming. A little while after, I realized than if the boundary between imagination and dreaming was porous, then I might been capable to warp the dreamscape in my will: my first successful attempt to modify the course of my dream outside flying out of the reach of bad guys or riding my favourite Digimon was what some precocious ten-years old boys might been tempted to do when you have a secret crush over your own teacher... so to speak, tuning down then up her breast volume at will. The next year later, I accidentally discovered astral travel while a strange nightmare from which what my ethereal body has somehow been "kidnapped" someplace to the other edge of the earth (no details about it) , before to quickly assume than if I had near-unlimited powers based on sheer imagination theferore it was impossible to imprison me permanently. At the onset of puberty, I was frequently visited in my dream by benevolent spirit-animals or what my parent taught me been merely but totemic mind-projections of my own inner self and its transformative process.

Because of all of those past tribulations in the past few years predating that story, I had acquired enough of experience and intuitive insight to know how to distinguish any different level and type of dreaming: the ones who meant nothing, the fast-fowarding resume of your past day or activity, a resurfacing trauma, the grotesque premices of your self-discovering sexuality, a Jungian styled feedback from my preconscious, a proper premonitory dream or just me roaming outside of my body again. That was neither of those: I know because in none of these dreams, I felt the urge to press my way straight to the girls's washroom. You're probably better familiar with me when that happens but there has always that moment, when your consciousness merge within those of the host, when you don't really know whether the movements you're doing are yours or those made by your host body: the boundary between my Ego and whoever I would hosting is, well bleary-- like into a semi-aware dream.

Except you're not breathing in a semi-aware dream. You cannot feel you heart racing as you're pacing your step. You cannot feel the weight of your body press tightly against the shoe soles as gravity laws does their effect... altough, two major details shocked me: first, I wasn't desiring at all to go the girl's washroom at all! I kept a bad trauma from primary school about what happened after I'd accidentally stepped into the wrong washroom and a little prior that dream, I had the idiocy to commit the same error (yet I was lucky. No witnesses) : consequently, I immediatly tried to rationalize while being manoeuvered by the course of the dream that maybe I was simply reviving a heightened form of that fear. Then the second and third details struck my attention:
"It is just me or did I shrunk? Then why does I feel so... so... lighter??" I remember having thought at the moment. My growth spurt had made me a rather tall kid even at that age then on top of that even if I had always been a hefty child - not enough to waddle, but just enough to be aware about my tubbiness - and thus being used to be nimble at  weight I get long used, I had the curious impression I might had shed an unnatural amount of pounds.

Which led me to an eerier impression: if I was much thinner, then why does I felt my chest bouncing and rubbing against the fabric of my polo uniform? Why does I feel something pressing against it? Why even my uniform was so loose??? Even tubby, I wasn't that fat enough to feel my flesh jiggle on its own even while running. Whatever I had, these things were much bigger than having a pair of blooming moobs.

I stepped into the washroom. Struggling once again against the chain of events, I immediatly recovered the full control of my movements. But something else, aside from the finding than even this room seemed much taller than usual, was still very wrong: I could sense I wasn't alone in the room. I could distinguish newfound sensations in my chest and insides no male had ever known in a lifetime. I had still the impression than I was still not totally myself, than every single breath, every single heartpace, my every motion weren't wholly mine. I could feel the alienness of every single cell of that body, that strange shampoo fragance floating in a nose who wasn't wholly mine, my hair stranding on my shoulders...

"Wait, I thought. How can I had that hair??" I am a person of color: people from my ethnic background have not white hair.

Panicked, we rushed in-together through the mirror: both trying to figure out what was wrong with us. And we startled. 

That was not me who was reflected through the glass, but a girl of about my age. Very thin, small and Petite of height, perhaps about five-feet-two-inches tall. Very attractive and delicate-looking with a tan complexion and a rainfall of wavy dark hair enframing her face: perhaps of Arab or Near Eastern ancestry, I assumed. I rose my lithe arms on my face and noted they were of same complexion, daunty and well manucured. I pulled a hand into her hair and sighed at their weird texture. I fixed inquisitively my attention toward the rest of my newfound bodily foil, the shape of her silhouette, the shapely tone of her short legs, her small shoes. I discreetly swung my hips to-and-fro and found myself trying to refrain a horrified grin as I realized I had any longer my manhood. But I was still unconvainced by the realism of the vision, so I glanced at my newfound breasts: neither too big nor too small, I could note the outline of that training bra straining against my skin and nipples. I ignore whether we were doing that for cultural or personal reasons (my self-identity was not foggied enough to lose myself further into hers: I couldn't access directly to her thoughts, just having a fewer ubiquitous impressions) but she was wearing an outgrown polo to avoid having to highlight her curves and most especially those weighty bumps. I hopped a little but pushed a faint scream when I feel them jolting like waterballons: instead I could sense that was not water but flesh, fat and milk.

"Damn it! I yelled with indignant revulsion. It's not a dream, I am really inside this girl!" Even my voice was weird: it was overlapping what the body simultaneously yelled with her more shierking, girlish voice.

I pressed our hands into her breasts again, trancefully half-aroused, half-dyspetic. "What the hell is that mess?? I am not a damn transvetite: I want my body back!!"

The arousal pulled me out of my sleep. I was at home, in my bedroom. It was the midst of the night and I had still a few hours of rest before preparing myself to go to school.


A few days later, I was roaming in the said hallway with a group of buddies. Immediatly, I crossed the same girl, rushing through the toilets. It didn't took a long before to hear her shrieking and mubling something. I immediatly froze: none only I hadn't imagined her, but she was behaving in a way exactly similar to the moment I was hosting her body in the dream. I felt my hair rose from the neck to my knuckles: I was seeing my past self possessing a schoolmate I had just met behaving in the exact same way I dreamt about!!

My buddies, worried, asked me if I was going well. Being a naive kid who believed in the mantra about what friends share most everything, I tell them having dreamt about her once and that I had an impression of déjà-vu but before I could even explain them about the first-pronoun particularity of that dreaming, they mockerously suggested I should perhaps avoid to tell any detail about my erotic dreams and that I had a crush on her.

I laughed at their comment, half-dissapointed by the realization they could not understood what actually happened beneath their very noses. And then, they were not really wrong: she was the kind of fellow student I would had liked to try engaging into some chatting, if I didnt just time-travelled my way straight from my speeling rest a few nights earlier to the present-time school to unintentionally take hostage her own body and patted her boobs for about an half-minute.

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CuriousEye

These episodes started again, at irreguliar intermittences: once at age 15, twice at age 17 then during Holidays 2018 to 2019 it has involved into... something else.

The second time occured in third secondary grade. I was minding my business in class when I suddenly felt an undescriptibly immense pain pierce through my forearm. That sensation would have make anyone cry out and squirm their bodies on the floor with anguish, but my mind was somehow capable to barr off the skin-deep affliction because I divined the origin of that ghost pain as being one that would soon be resented by somene else in the room. Instinctfully, I turned my eyes in direction of one specific classmate, a Mexican girl. After several seconds, she fainted, throbbed her pencil on the desk and started to convulsate painfully and weep, pressing a hand over the exact same spot from which I sensed my premonitory pain. A few days later, we ended up to learn she had an ulnar fracture made from an accident while playing to volley-ball at an earler class of hers and had been plastered from that arm for months. When she came back in class, I confessed to her what I did experienced a little before her episode happened and was startled. 

It took me many years to realize she - and later, about one third of the school whose has been progressively informed about what I've said to her - was seeing me like a freak since then. Which haven't helped me at all as I was already perceived as such by many behind my back from the very beginning.

***

The third then fourth times occured closely from each other in my final fifth grade. My longstanding insomnia issue has worsened and for result, there happened I was more-and-more frequently nodding between and even within classes. Earlier that year, I had undergone a closer bond within my totemic spirit-animals to the point that sometimes, when I was running in the midst of the street while being tranceful, I could almost see an overlapping vision of myself turning into one of those animals while running much faster and leaping with much finesse than usual. I thought at that moment I was experiencing the psychosomatic and mental aspects of shapeshifting decried by so many ancient traditions.

At some point, I was in class, working on my school work while simultaneously drowsing. A female classmate of mine asked for permission to the teacher for going to the washroom, from which what the latter one agreed. A few eyelash flaps later, I notwithstandingly gave up without even realizing it and found myself face to the entrance for girls's toilet room, again corseted inside a familiar yet vaguely different alienness.

"Not again, we groused. No need for a mirror to guess the separate host's both voice and favorite shampoo fragrance emanated from her hair We could felt a lightweight pressure over our bust and after a brief gllance to these then-longer strands of hair, I was startled by the... **ahem** improvements: we could most definitively see my first host has significantly grown up from much everywhere because we could barely see the end of our still-small  sized shoes with these full, slightly heavier grapefruits. We were assailed by a desire to scrutinize a little further the changes in spite our common desire to set apart from that horrific mind-melting. Something had clearly changed with her: three years back from that event, she was not even aware about what was happening with her but now she was somehow capable to sense my unwanted presence inside her unwanted body and to know when her mind was hackedShe clearly refused to let me having the upper hand in that chimeric imbrication of ours, so her will remained strong enough to step us in-together in the toitel room, yet not enough to really figure out yet who I was nor my thoughts neither: perhaps she feared to be asborbed by my greater will if she dared: the sole action to possess a near-liminal insight into that situation seemed to exacerbate something of unusually manly into her behavior and I could read through it than the wellsping of that alien trait was actually me. Simultaenously, I felt strangely less-and-less... let's say revulved by my situation, as if I was almost enjoying our newfound feminity and I had to wrestle with that underthought and repess it before commiting something of unfixable.

We posed to the mirror. That was now unquestionably confirmed I was abiding the exact same host than a few years ago, who has changed since then: she was far much taller even perhaps a smidge taller than I was-- and she had to grow several inches these past few years because like I stated earlier, I used to be a rather tall kid. Her visage thinned and matured a little, less girlish and more chiseled. Her polo unofirm looked form-hugging onto her thin silhouette, whose has grown shapely and rather curvy, yet a bit pulpy down from the hips to the thighs: she, however, attempted to hid a cue of potbelly prodding over the hem of her leggings. She posed her hands and their lenghty fingers over her breasts and fixed her own eyes into the mirror, trying to find me out. We found ourselves a wee aroused, at our great digust-- or was that the contrary??

"Get out from my head, she grumbled loudly. My classmate from earlier found us, thinking she was losing her mind, feigned having heard and saw nothing then minded her business in the cabin. Get out from my ****ing head, she yelled in mind, punctuating each of her words. 
As she squeezed her own boobs, my libido was rousing to the roof. I had the presentiment that her attempt to replicate her depossession might not result to the exact same happy end if ever she continued to excite us. No matter how far this phenomenon was stepping beyond the conventional coinings of dreaming, the boundary between my imagination and that plane-within-planes was perhaps still the same than when I had ordinary awakened dreams and perhaps, perhaps... well, do you remember about what happened in my first erotic fantasy?
"Please, stop squeezing them, I bemoaned loudly through her mouth as we felt a warmer sensation built up under our hands. Everything is getting blurrier..."

The teacher yelled my name. I was once again back to my own body, half-awake. No one noted my hard-on. My classmate entered into the class, chatting briefly with the one I did just went to possess earlier. Damn it! Who would thought they were buddies?? 

I posed an insistent, worried look at her and she glanced back with a somewhat undecipherable look. That was enough: I thought she needed to know the truth.

At dinnertime, I approached her. That was the first time we ever spoke to each other. She knew me from reputation but thought I didn't knew anything about her, yet she seemed curious. I explained to her if she remember what happened three years ago  and described the event, before to follow up with what occured earlier that day. She blemished. "How do you know about that? I never tell it."
"Because I was seeing what you did at that moment from your eye, I confessed."
She paused, fixed me anxiously then leave, We never spoke to each other again. I felt sorry for her: nothing is so terrible a transgressive act of telepathic possession. She had been violated into her intimacy-- let alone very being twice and I didn't know yet how to prevent it from happening again.

A few days later, while taking some rest in my spot with my buddies and a girl I had some premice of situationship along, I woke up into an another body, again. This time, that was not the same girl, but a very muscular biracial boy. I was no longer as buff as I used to be as I grew up, but I could tell this guy was working out extensively in spite his age. I swung my hips and grinned with digust: I wasn't feeling someone's genitalias from inside at least, but that was still not mine; on top of that, I was far much endowed, so I could really sense the difference.

I looked myself into the mirror of the boy's neary toilet room, shook my head then woke up, shaking my own head. I rose up and saw the guy coming out from the washroom, a little disturbed. I tackled him and spoke about what happened, from which what he confirmed that everything occured like I described. He asked me how I did know that but didn't mind about waiting for an answer: he ran away, literally. I have never seen the boy again.


Whom to what happened up from thirteen to one month ago... it was practically bordering on sympathetic shapeshifting. Or most exactly, sympathetic genderbending. Ugh, those ones were far much disturbing.

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