The follow-on to:
I don’t exist.
The thought had haunted ‘Ms Clark’ since the meeting with the Principal. I’m not real. She was a figment, a fleeting mental construct created by MMS to occupy and direct a body for as long as it existed, conjured by the mind of a schoolboy and molded by the manipulations of Principal Collins into the image of a perfect teacher for both of them. A single glance back at the toned ass within her pencil skirt could confirm the Ralph’s subconscious had had a hand in her creation. And only a hormonal mind could have created these breasts.
Once she’d realised her non-existence, it had all fallen into place. It was like noticing the flaws in dream logic in the midst of a dream. How nothing she owned was older than six weeks, including her rental apartment. How she could recall only vague outlines of friends and family. She’d of course thought to contact them immediately to assure herself of her existence, only to realise she remembered no specific details, no contact information or addresses. They were cardboard cutouts of memories, figments of a figment.
And the fact she had no first name. She was just 'Ms Clark'.
A fresh figment never would have noticed these missing pieces. It was only the fact she’d existed for so long that had allowed her to become aware.
But she still existed only as long as Ralph’s MMS episode continued. The moment it ended, which was the moment she truly relaxed, this body would revert to his and she’d been flushed from his mind like a sleeper’s dream in the morning.
Ironically it was the anxiety of this existential crisis that was partly responsible for keeping her alive. That, and the caffeine running through her veins. Like most teachers, she was self medicating with copious quantities of coffee. So long as she kept her heart rate elevated, she’d live.
What was she to do with this knowledge of her non-existence, and the greater non-existence that awaited her? She’d decided to put her affairs in order, only to find she had less affairs than she thought. No parents to say goodbye to, no friends, just colleagues. She’d started putting together lesson plans for whichever teacher followed her, only to tear them up upon realising this was a behaviour instilled by Principal Collins. Angry, she informed the police of his conduct. Watching him being led from the school in handcuffs had been rather life affirming. At least when she was gone, he’d still be in prison.
Now she was visiting Ralph Quinn’s parents. It was a surreal meeting. She’d called ahead to explain the situation gently, and his mother… her mother was in tears when she opened the door, pulling her into a long hug that she tried her best to reciprocate, despite not recognising the woman. She felt sympathy, relief, and a large amount of guilt - too many emotions that she was probably never created with enough nuance to handle all at once. Her hug with the father was even more uncomfortable. “It’ll be alright, son,” he said, patting her back in a stilted fashion.
“We’re just happy that you’re home safe,” his mother said through the tears. “It must have been such a confusing time for you. When will you be changing back?”
“As soon as I can,” Ms Clark said.
She realised as she said it that it was a reassuring lie for the woman, and felt another punch of guilt. But she had little intention of ending this MMS episode willingly. It would be suicide. Even if she wasn’t real, she still didn’t want to stop being whatever she was.
But it would make her a murderer. As guilty as Principal Collins, now sitting in jail.
His mother showed her around the house, telling her facts about her life as if she expected her to know them. How she was so excited to be going to college. How much her girlfriend was missing her - with a lurch, Ms Clark realised she’d been teaching the girl for two months without realising it. A pretty girl, though she’d felt not a twinge of recognition or attraction towards her. In all honesty, the young man’s dark-haired, handsome father was more her type (and age), though that was a thought she was trying her best to ignore.
At the mention of Ralph’s girlfriend, there came an itch in the back of her mind.
They stood in Ralph’s room. “Is any of this ringing any bells?” his mother asked.
It wasn’t. But as Ms Clark stood there, staring at the young man’s possessions, she felt that mental scratching intensify. It was something that had been there from the start, fighting to get back in, though subdued the longer she owned this body. It could only be Ralph’s suppressed psyche stirring.
“May I have a moment alone?” she asked his mother. The woman nodded and left her in the room, if not perhaps completely alone. Ralph was scraping away to get inside. If she let him…
She sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the posters, the videogames. Something crinkled under her ass, and she pulled a lewd magazine out from beneath the sheets. The flaunting figure on the front bore more than a passing resemblance to her own. His subconscious may well have pieced her body together from within these pages.
It was just the room of a teenage boy. Why was she so afraid of him then? She was a teacher, and a damn good one. She ate young men like him for breakfast every day.
Perhaps there was some way they could both continue on… It would be risky.
She closed her eyes and lowered the mental barriers keeping Ralph out. It was Ralph that opened her eyes again.
For a few moments, he simply flailed the limbs that were his again. After so long locked inside his own head, he’d forgotten to breathe, and took a long gasp. “I’m... I'm back."
‘You’re late,’ chided a crisp, no-nonsense voice in his head.
He leapt up, spinning around, but the room was empty. Just the sight of himself reflected in his bedroom mirror. He gasped at the sight. A beautiful dark-haired woman in her prime, mature figure squeezed into fashionable feminine clothing, his own breasts swelling from the white blouse. This had never happened before. He’d never taken control of one of his changed forms before. His shaking hands reached up to cup his own soft, full tits.
‘Men…,’ said the mental voice. Ms Clark rolled her eyes, forgetting for the moment that they were their collective eyes, and Ralph fell back on his ass as his vision took on a life of their own and the room whirled around him.
“You’re not meant to still be here,” Ralph spluttered.
‘So you’re the peeping tom hiding in my head?. Did you like what you saw, hm? Did you enjoy watching me shower? Watching me dress?’ Ms Clark took control of his eyes again, forcing them back to the mirror. His breasts had fallen free during his tumble, and she felt her body’s arousal kick in as she made him survey her body. ‘Do you like what you see now?’
“S-stop controlling my body!”
‘Your body? I think you’ll find you’re just an invited guest.’ She took control of her arm, stroking her fingers over the sensitive skin of her breasts, and Ralph gave a shuddering gasp with her lungs. ‘I wanted you to experience some of the delights this body, this life, has to offer. That is, if you’ll let me be your teacher.’