Get your own Free Home Page Dave Lister walked grumpily into the quarters
he shared with Arnold Rimmer,
tossing his cap onto his bed. He was more than a little
annoyed at his
bunkmate. He'd had to tell Rimmer again about the
proper care and
maintenance of his body, and remind him that he was supposed to
be getting
that body into shape, not using it to satisfy every appetite he
couldn't in his
past two years as a hologram. It was especially frustrating
because now --
as a hologram himself -- telling Rimmer was all he could do.
Lister sat down on Rimmer's bunk and ran his fingers through his
hair, still
not used to the new texture. He was already starting to
regret the bodyswap.
He'd definitely gotten the short end of the stick, being stuck in
the body of
a hologram while the man he'd swapped with was joyriding through
gourmet
meals and Cuban cigars. He'd had a bad feeling about this
from the beginning,
but somehow Rimmer had managed to convince him that this would be
the
easiest way for him to get fit. Switch bodies, then let
Rimmer do all the work
while Lister sat back and did nothing for a couple of
weeks. Well, that was
what it was supposed to be like, but Lister hadn't seen any
positive results yet.
He'd already warned Rimmer about overdoing it...maybe after these
first few
days he would finally get down to business. Still, Lister
couldn't help but mope.
As a hologram, there wasn't much to do when no-one else was
around. He
couldn't touch anything, and with Rimmer out doing
god-knows-what, there was
nobody to talk to. He was bored. He supposed he could
go find Kryten or
the Cat, but he just wasn't in the mood. He sighed and rubbed his
forehead,
feeling the 'H' at its center -- it felt unnatural, just like the
whole situation.
Still tracing the outline of the 'H', Lister got up and went over
to look at
himself in the mirror. At the not-himself in the
mirror. Rimmer's face,
Rimmer's body. Taller, paler, but dressed in clothes more
like his own (and
nothing like what Rimmer usually wore), it almost seemed like...
he wasn't
really sure. Not familiar, not comfortable.
Weird. Smegging weird, seeing
Arnold Rimmer's face gazing back at him.
Still, it wasn't totally unfamiliar. The expression was
much more his own
than Rimmer's. And without Rimmer's usual smug look, the
face almost
seemed...pleasant. Cheerful. Lister rolled his eyes
at that. << Imagine
that, Rimmer looking cheerful, especially when he's looking at me.
>>
He tried smiling. Again, without his usual smugness,
Rimmer's face actually
looked sort of friendly.
He quickly glanced over his shoulder to the door to make sure it
was closed,
then back to his reflection. He relaxed a little bit,
smiling now because
he'd just realized how silly this would look if somebody walked
in --
himself, alone in a room and making faces at a mirror, worried
that someone
might catch him. Like a teenager with a secret stash of
porn under his
mattress, he thought to himself. He couldn't help but
laugh. The only
secret here was that Rimmer could actually look friendly.
Likable. He'd
have to tell Cat and Kryten -- they'd never believe him.
As he continued studying his new features, a stray thought
crossed his mind.
He glanced over at his bunk. Yes, the cap was still there,
where he'd
tossed it after he'd come into the room. It appeared to be
resting on the
bunk, looking totally solid and real, the illusion maintained by
the same
computer system that right now was making his feet look like they
were in
physical contact with the floor.
Curious now, he went over and picked up the cap. It felt
completely
natural, completely solid, just like his real one when he was in
his own
body. He dropped it again and watched it fall until it
reached the
blankets, just as an ordinary object would. It took
conscious thought to do
something that would disrupt the image, like deliberately pushing
a hand
through a wall or stepping through a solid object. He
snorted defiantly.
Rimmer usually played along with the illusion, but that didn't
mean he had
to. He passed his hand easily through the bunk, then
brought it up again to
grasp the cap from underneath, pulling it through the thin
mattress. With
a grin, he stuck his foot through the deck below him.
Lister was suddenly assailed by a wave of disorientation as he
found himself
unable to balance, unable to steady himself by contact with
anything solid.
He hastily pulled his foot back and closed his eyes against the
dizziness,
pulling his arms around himself tightly, gripping the only thing
that was
solid to him.
No wonder Rimmer played along.
He cautiously opened his eyes when the unpleasant sensation had
passed.
Everything seemed to be all right, he was relieved to
discover. Still, it was
an unsettling experience, and it only served to remind him how
abnormal
his current condition was. It was disturbing, how the only
things that
seemed real to him were the things that were utterly unreal, like
his cap...
and his body. Rimmer's body. He rubbed his arms
briskly, more for contact
with something he could actually touch than against any imagined
chill.
After a few minutes of self-reassurance, he found that one hand
had strayed
down to his hip. He could feel the apparently-solid body
beneath the
hologramatic clothing, both of which felt quite real to
him. Without thinking,
he pressed inward; then drew his breath in sharply at the
sensation.
Rimmer's body was clearly a little more sensitive in that area
than his own.
He ran his fingers over his hipbone a few times, and was rewarded
by a
pleasantly warm feeling that spread out from his hip to other
nearby
portions of his body. Rimmer's body.
Without giving much consideration as to why, Lister moved back to
where he
could see Rimmer's face in the mirror, and brushed his hand
downward across
his groin.
He almost didn't recognize the voice that moaned in response to
the act.
Lister stared for a few moments into the other man's eyes,
debating. Then
he slowly unzipped the trousers and slipped his hand inside,
deliberately
not thinking about what he was doing or why he might be doing it.
<< Just a bit of fun, that's all. Probably more fun
than Rimmer's had in
ages, >> he reasoned as he began to stroke himself, then
settling into a
regular, steady rhythm, all the while keeping his eyes on the
face in the
mirror. Watching the other man's expressions change as his
excitement grew.
<< Besides, who knows what he's getting up to in your
body? >> he thought,
by way of rationalization. << Cream cakes, sundaes,
pie a la mode? >>
His breathing, or rather the simulation of it, was becoming more
rapid. He
kept his eyes locked on his reflection, fascinated.
There was something almost perverted about doing this in Rimmer's
body.
Actually, there was nothing 'almost' about it, and he knew
it. And that
made it even better.
What would Rimmer say if he walked in? He'd been satisfying
his appetites
in Lister's body; didn't he have the right to satisfy his as
well?
He was pumping even faster now, the illicitness of his actions
arousing him
even more.
Lister still hadn't taken his eyes off his reflection -- for some
reason it had
been fueling his arousal, making every sensation seem more
intense. He
couldn't tear his eyes away...he'd never seen Rimmer like this
before, never
would have imagined the range of expression, the excitement and
the freedom
and the pure unrestrained pleasure. It was as if the image
was everything
that Rimmer could be, but wouldn't let himself. Would never
let himself.
Lister knew that there was no way he would ever see this from his
bunkmate.
But as he was looking into the mirror, watching the other man's
face, it
almost seemed like he was doing this to Rimmer and not to
himself, or that
Rimmer was doing it to him.
That final thought pushed him over the edge, and he moaned again,
spilling
what felt to him like perfectly normal semen over his hand.
He slumped back onto Rimmer's bunk, exhausted and more than a
little
disturbed.
The name he'd called at the moment of climax was Rimmer's.
He stared silently at the face in the mirror again, and was
rewarded by yet
another new expression. The man gazing back at him
looked sated, peaceful,
more content than he'd ever seen; not a trace of smugness or
arrogance, just
contentment. He wondered what it would take for the real
Rimmer to look
like that. Just the thought made his eyes...Rimmer's
eyes...become warmer,
softer. Another expression he wouldn't have expected to
see, either on
Rimmer or on himself while he was thinking about Rimmer, or about
seeing
Rimmer happy.
His eyes widened in alarm at this new train of thought. It
was just a bit
of fun, that's all, he told himself firmly. Nothing more to
it. A chance
to play in someone else's body, a chance to see if someone else
liked the
same things he liked...
<< Or a chance to see what that someone else might like
better? >> a little
voice inside his head challenged.
He stared balefully at his reflection, trying to work himself up
into a
major state of annoyance at the other man for the confusion he
was now
feeling. << It's his body, so it's his fault,
>> he told himself, not sure
if he believed it but needing something to pin his conflicted
emotions on.
He knew it wasn't really fair; Rimmer hadn't really been involved
in what
had just happened, other than supplying the body. But
Lister didn't want
what was going through his head to go any further. He couldn't
let it go
any further. << So it was all Rimmer's fault,
>> he told himself firmly.
<< All of it. >>
<< Besides, >> that little voice inside him
whispered. << It's not like
anything could ever happen between us. Rimmer can't touch
anything, or
anyone. It couldn't go any further even if you wanted it
to. So there's
nothing to worry about, because nothing can ever happen. >>
<< Ever. >>
With a strange mixture of relief and sadness, and one final look
into the
unusually plaintive brown eyes, Lister pulled himself away and
hurried out
the door. Before anything else could happen.
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