doesn't every fandom run a body swap challenge? no? they should.


This was a totally freaky situation.

That didn't mean it was all bad, though.

Francis Hockenbury sat up on the bed and carefully held his hands out in front of him, studying the veins running across the backs, the dirt and grease ingrained beneath the nails, the thick strong fingers, the calloused palms. He tentatively put those hands up to his face, sliding with a rapidly increasing heartbeat along a squared jaw, small tight-set ears, brushy hair....

Flopping back down on the pillow, Hockenbury blinked a few times at the ceiling, which looked awfully weird without the usual protective glass lenses glinting in front of it. He felt all the bunchy muscles of his body contract with an eerie thrill that finger-crawled its way down his spine and dove in to take up permanent residence in his belly.

This was deep.

This was like something from "The Twilight Zone", or "Weird Tales", or....

Jesus, but Danny had muscles to spare!

Squinting his eyes shut (somewhat regretfully; it was nice to have twenty-twenty vision again), Hockenbury opened and clenched his fists reflexively, feeling strange fingers curl against his strange thighs. Acid? It must have been acid. Or maybe shrooms. A good dose of psilocybin could send a daytripper off on one hell of a jaunt, man. Why couldn't he remember?

A groan from the other side of the bed jolted him out of his pondering, followed shortly by a thump on the floor and some cussing that would strip the hair from a grizzly bear. A rumpled, copper-haired head poked up above the edge of the mattress, and as Hockenbury watched, the eyes got bigger and bigger behind those familiar glasses until he could have sworn they would fall out.


Hockenbury winced. Did his voice really sound like that?

"Danny," he replied neutrally, testing out Percell's vocal cords with apprehension.

Danny looked around, mouth opening and closing as he tried to get a handle on what was going on. He finally managed, "Are we high?"

"I goddamn hope so."

"Oh. Ohhhh, good." Hockenbury watched as the lanky figure on the floor--him!--ungraciously swayed to its feet, moving gingerly, looking lost and uncomfortable.

"Whu'd we do?" Percell's good ol' boy way of talking sounded awkward coming from Hockenbury's mouth, but they both tried to ignore it.

"We drank the bottle that said "Drink Me" instead of eating the cake that said "Eat Me"."

Percell stared at him, then actually giggled. Giggled!

Hockenbury drew one heavy hand over his mouth, appalled. No bloody wonder the guys all thought he was a sissy. Jesus.

Clambering back under the thin sheet — where were they, anyway? Looked like a brothel — with a loopy grin, Percell snugged the covers around him and settled down. "Whatever," he said sleepily. "All I know is, Doc, I got one hell of a high. I could reach the moon from here! Hell, I could reach Neptune!"

"Mmm-hmm." Not that he felt any less trippy, but a new and pressing disaster had arisen. As in, pressing against his bladder.

This was the last thing he needed.

"Danny," Hockenbury said tightly, still not quite sure how to navigate Percell's scratchy voice, "I gotta go take a leak."

"Sure." The warm, thin bundle next to him yawned. "But be quick, okay? I don't wanna run into trouble while I'm wearin' your skin, Doc. You ain't exactly the barfight type, an' I like to win."


Maybe the third time was the charm.

Hockenbury set his jaw and marched back into the small, foul-smelling cubicle that was the latrine for this particular den of iniquity that he and Danny had chosen to visit. He'd been in and out twice already — chickened out, when faced with actually having to undo Percell's combat pants and take care of business.

You're being a backwater ass, Hockenbury, he told himself sternly. You're the blasted medic, for cryin' out loud! Is it so hard to just take a piss?

He would have shut his eyes, but the black hole yawning beneath him was too ominous for that. Trying desperately not to...not to notice anything, Hockenbury finally managed to allow his body to answer Nature's call.

Stumbling out, he practically fell into the unoccupied room across the hall, nearly smashing a flimsy wooden table to pieces. How the hell did Danny manage this hulking body? Hockenbury felt like a water buffalo in it, lumbering about and bulldozing his way through everything.

Feeling suddenly exhausted, he threw himself onto the bed, sprawled out on his back. Danny's back. Whatever. This was getting really confusing.

He put one hand to his neck, trying to massage out one particular knot that was screaming pain at the base of his skull. Danny had a thick neck. Danny had a thick everything.

Heat immediately flushed his face as he realized where this train of thought was going and he tried, unsuccessfully, to round it off at the pass. All his flustered mind could conjure up was the feel of Percell's heavy thighs, the effortless strength of his brawny arms, the solidity of his muscle and bone.

Hockenbury couldn't help himself. He hesitantly touched his hands, his awesomely big and strong hands, to his chest, feeling with wonder the scratchy hair there, the defined abdomen further down, the flesh overlying the ribs. His breath hitched, then quickened as he slid his hands further down, smoothing across hips, thighs....

Throwing his head back with a barely stifled moan of pleasure — wow! Danny's voice! — that started in his stomach and charged its way through, Hockenbury slowly discovered everything that Percell's tough, powerful hands could do. His head swam with bright, intense bursts of color and hot flashes of complete sensual ecstasy, penetrating his body from nose to toe and ripping him through with utter joy. It was incredible. It was tantric. It was a ticket to trip-out city. It was here, there, and everywhere; sensory overload with a vengeance.

It was gonna be hell coming down.

March 24/00

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