Transplanted Life
Saturday, July 19, 2003
Okay. I'm going to try to put this down as clearly as I can. I fully realize how insane what I'm typing must be, and I certainly don't understand it myself, but this is what happened to me. I'm hoping that by putting it on the web, maybe someone who has had a similar experience, or knows how to reverse it, will stumble across it in a Google search or something and give me some help.

When I opened my eyes this morning, the alarm clock read 10:05. That woke me straight up, because my flight out of Logan was scheduled to depart about four hours earlier. Once I jerked straight up in the bed (and it did occur to me that I had fallen asleep on the couch), I realized that that wasn't all that was amiss. Instead of Kurt's living room, I was in a studio apartment whose owner had apparently just moved in. I whipped my head left and right to look around, and a bunch of hair got in my eyes. That really freaked me out, since I had just had my hair cut pretty short yesterday. That's when I looked down and saw that my body wasn't my own. Even under the baggy nightshirt, I could see I was clearly a woman, and I don't just mean because the body's toenails are painted red. She/I is/am stacked. I almost screamed, but no sound came out - it was like I was too shocked to actually get her vocal cords to work.

I know - most people reading this are going to think it's bullshit. I certainly did. I actually punched at this body's breasts both out of anger and to confirm they were real (and, for what it's worth, that really hurts). I have to admit that after I stuck a hand into her panties, I actually whined something like "you took it away from me." Stupid, really, because even at that point, I understood that my mind must have somehow been moved, or copied, or something like that, into somebody else's body, and "it" was probably right where "it" belonged, on a plane flying cross-country.

But who? Nothing around me looked familiar, and I didn't know why anyone would do this to me. I was still kind of numb, so I have to admit that I didn't walk into the bathroom to use the mirror - I just needed to go. The face in the mirror caught me dead, though - it was the girl from the bar last night. I was the girl from the bar last night. At which point, it made perfect sense - I was having a super-weird drunk dream, and my brain had taken some part of the "if I were a woman/good thing you're not me" exchange and twisted it. Still, it was a pretty vivid dream, and didn't I read somewhere that you couldn't see numbers clearly in a dream?

Anyway, I did my business and returned to the main room. That's when I found this letter:

I decided to see if you could put your money where your mouth is concerning your friend. As you can see, you now have my life, and I now have yours. This shouldn't cause too much of a problem, since I only moved here two weeks ago and you're going to a new city - or vice versa, as the case may be.

Anyway, the rules are simple: Do not tell your friends or mine about this. I will, at some point, return and switch back, but I can't tell you when. If you and Kurt (I think that was his name) are still together, I'll certainly give him a chance. And do try - it's complicated, but if you don't, it's kind of like a broken agreement. I know that sort of sucks for you, but there you go.

God, the way that sounds. I'm not really a mean person; it's something I have to do, and your situation was a real opportunity.

...And then a bunch of credit card numbers and online passwords and other stuff I'm not going to share.

So I sat around the rest of the day, trying to get in contact with this "Michelle Garber" who's stolen my body, but even after I figured the plane would have landed, she wasn't answering my cell phone. If there ever was anything on her computer about this, it's been deleted but good.

So, that's my situation. I'm just going to sit around and wait for her to call back today, but if anybody reading this has heard of something like this happening before, and maybe how to reverse it, drop me a line.

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Note: This blog is a work of fantasy; all characters are either ficticious or used ficticiously. The author may be contacted at