Chapter 7 - Dancing in Circles
Chris and Claire were still laying on bed, side by side, mulling over those last hurtful words of hers. They were motionless, completely still, just like their lives were now meant to be, when a sudden rumbling noise rose closer and louder like a tempest approaching a small ship in the vastity of the ocean.
Their Dad broke into Man's Cave with such an impetus that made both of them wince and jump upright sitting. He was in deep excitement and he was panting like he had run a whole marathon.
"Chris... Claire... we... t-today..." He barely spelled while trying to catch some air, he had to hold his aching side and grip on his own knee to keep balance.
The confused looks on his children faces convinced him that he needed to breathe a bit before speaking again. What he was going to say was too important.
"I've been at Arklay City today, I've spent all day at the Quantic Engineering Research lab with a couple of neuroscientists and... together we laid out a formula that might work to reverse the psyco-cognitive transmigration. We did the calculations four times... it might work! I won't bother you with the details but when we processed it in that astonishing Quantico Simulator they have... it just worked! …It worked! Just to be sure, we even tried to simulate the accident, virtually recreating the same condition that infernal machine had... The results were just the same: transmutation! Explosion, neutrinos leak and transmutation! Just what happened! This means that the simulator is right! It might work!"
He spoke hastily but his kids seemed to be understanding his words.
"You sure Dad?" real Claire asked, voice just a wet leaping whisper.
"Yes darling!" He beamed at her.
"You said it might work... why?" Chris questioned remaining grounded.
Robert became serious. What he had told his kids was only half of what he had to say.
"I said that because the formula worked on the simulator. It showed that the calculus is correct and that the procedure we created would work if installed in a proper machinery. The matter is... the technology involved... just doesn't exists. Not yet at least. We have to create it. And that's the hardest part. We have to create a machine able to transfer neurological data from a brain to another without damaging the organs and without losing anything in the making. The current neurological technologies aren't able to extrapolate anything from brain cells."
All that talking about data and organs made Claire feel horrible. It made her feel she was just a biological mass of thinking cells. No heart, no emotions, no soul.
As if he had read her mind, her father continued.
"I mean, not only your consciousness has been transferred, but also all of your memories, otherwise you'll be living the other's life without being aware of the switch, as the memories would give you the impression of having always been in that body. But you know you are switched instead, and you cannot recall anything from the other's past, right?" After a simultaneous nod of his kids, he continued "this means we have to extrapolate every single data from your brain and reinstall it in another. I... I don't want you to think there's no hope neither I want to deceive you giving false hopes. But this is a matter of creating something able to detect souls, handle them and channel them back into a living body. It's almost… mystical, you know? Kids, it's way more complicated than I told you, but trust me it would be the exact same thing that happened in the outburst, only difference: it would happen in a controlled and safe environment. We only have to work on finding the technology. It will take some time... But I'm hopeful. We did it pretty fast with the formula... and darling you should see it! The most difficult one I've ever met."
Claire felt Chris rubbing her broad back. She knew he was thinking about her during all her father's speech. Those words, despite her father warned not to take anything for granted yet, and that caressing hand... gave her hope. She felt the tight pinching sharp chains wrapped around her heart loosen, just that bit enough to make it beat again.
They had dinner all together. Their mood had improved much. Both siblings were even smiling.
No, they couldn't rely on the scientists to actually find a solution. The problem was still as real as it was that morning and all the days before. But now they had a chance. A minuscule sparkle of hope harbored in their spirits and, after a tragic day like the one they just had, that sparkle, alone, was enough to wrap their souls in warmness. It was like they didn't need anything else if not a tiny ight in that vast murkiness.
They might face better the adversities now. Even school.
Even if that meant that there was a more concrete chance for Chris to get back to his school career and his grades one day.
He told Claire not to worry too much about his grades. He was good enough at school to recover them once - if - he'd be back in his body.
Those bad feelings Claire experienced before were gone like dust in the wind. That feeling of absolute terror, faintness and… panic had been too terrifying. She had felt like she was going to drown into mud. She hoped with all her heart she'd never experience anything like that ever again.
Once the dinner was over, the two siblings were alone in the living room. Robert had gone upstairs right after dinner, a pulsing migraine coerced him to retire early despite he had come home earlier from work. Lily preferred cleaning the dishes and the kitchen alone, to give her kids a bit of relax. They needed it. As she knew them, she was aware of how her kids were close and how much they needed to be together, especially in a difficult time like that.
"Would you like to watch a movie?" he asked, falling on the three-seater sofa.
"Yeah… something funny though."
He scrolled a bit in the movie gallery on tv and proposed a superhero movie, not an epic one but one of those ridiculous idiot movies with bad special effects they loved to make fun of so much.
Real Claire, in the meantime, she had prepared all the rest, turning the lights off, opening a bag of chips and adjusting a cosy blanket, beneath which they cuddled together. Fake Claire leaned upon fake Chris' thick body, and head resting on the arm his sister had idly rested around his thin shoulders.
"I'm sorry for before, Chris" Claire said during the ending titles.
"Don't be sorry, you were panicking. It must have felt awful."
"It was. But I'm still sorry."
"It's ok, Claire" and he leaned up to place a kiss on the rough cheek. "Hey... time for a beard trim, uh?"
"Yeah…" she grumbled, scratching her cheek" It grows so fast! It makes me miss my body hairs!"
"Hairs... ugh... another female thing I'll have to face, right?"
"Well... yes and no... I'm not that hairy. And the few I have are blonde - don't be fooled by my hair colour! - short and grow sloooowly. I'm envied by all my friends!" She said with pride. "And you're lucky too as I waxed just the day before the stupid accident! You won't have to worry for a looooong time!"
"Hopefully!" He chuckled.
The thought of that voluntarily self induced pain wasn't suiting him at all. He was used to be hairy. He wasn't a total bear, he had just few on his chest, lower belly and some on the legs, but... he'd never shave his body hairs!
"Chris... about what I said..." real Claire said, looking straight at her former delightful eyes "You did pretty well with your first periods! I... I remember mine... I cried all day as all that blood was upsetting and the pain was terrible."
"You were like... What? Eleven? Twelve? I don't remember exactly..."
"I was twelve." She nodded "and pretty confused about what was happening in me. Becoming a woman... just like that. Now you are a child and a moment later you are a woman bleeding between legs. Oh, Chris, back then I'd have never thought I'd be missing periods one day!"
Missing periods. Such a double entendre.
Chris glanced at the clock hanging on the wall, besides the tall bookshelf, it was almost midnight.
"We should go to bed…" he whispered, but in his mind he continued "tomorrow is gonna be another fucking hard day."
They turned off the tv and went upstairs. They both needed a shower. To clean skins and minds, washing away the hardest day of their lives so far.
As real Claire was the most tired of the two of them, Chris let her go first, while he went into the Girly Room to pick the underwear he was going to put on after the shower. While he was waiting, he took a moment to look at the room around him. Claire's room. Girly room. And he abandoned himself to a deep train of thoughts about the fact that if an hypothetical stranger would've entered that room in that very moment, he wouldn't have noticed nothing extraordinary: a tidy room, with light walls and white furniture, a definitely girlish wardrobe, hints of pink and rose and red all over and a delightful girl sitting on the edge of the bed with her hands hidded under her knees, while letting her bare feet dangle freely and brushing the soft carpet. Everything in order. But he just felt out of place.
Everything was so tremendously feminine for him, and it seemed to him he was noticing them for the first time as if he had never been there before, as if he didn't know by heart the fruity perfume of that room.
Half of the things inside there hadn't a matching name in his head, and the other half was just without any interest to his eyes, except for the pc, the little succulent plant on the desk (he thanked all the heavens for not needing those plants to be watered, or it would already be dead) and the photos on the walls. The latters, in particular, were loved by him. He started to look closely at them, one by one, recalling the moments they had been taken.
Despite being in Claire's room, in the majority of them there was also him. He saw the one of her first day at school, that Lily took on the front porch before accompaining them to the bus stop, he and Claire were so little, and she let all of her agitation and excitement transpire from the slightly embarrassed smile their mother had immortalised.
There were the photos of Claire in pantyhose on her first ballet recital, of them dressed up for the costume party held for the re-opening of the nearby park, of their crazy orange and white cat, Nemesis, that had been their only pet until few years before when a drunk idiot slayed it with his car. There were a couple of photos of their grandparents, lots of Polaroid snapshots of her friends pinned to a cork bulletin board, the memories of the trip to the Andean region of Peru of few years before where Claire had her mother buy her one of those typical vicuna wool hats, colourful and warmest, with those adorable llamas and abstract pattern, that she loved madly and still kept in her closet despite not fitting her head anymore. The photos of them in front of Ellis Island, where both were mimicking the Statue of Liberty's pose, raising their ice-creams cones high in the air.
But his favourite was without any doubts the one hanging over the headboard of the large bed. A big black and white photo of a dancing Claire, that he had given her for her last birthday back in February. There she was just beautiful. The most beautiful. A goddess.
A tender smile escaped from his lips when thinking that, in spite of all the effort he could put up, and despite residing in that same body, he could never be able to look that tremendously enchanting as her.
Beauty does not linger only in one's body, but it transcends it, the body being a mere mean to show inner beauty. He even laughed at the depths his reasoning was leading him to. It was midnight and too late to philosophize.
I am too damn tired.
A light knock on the door drew him back from his thoughts, and the shortly bearded big face and wet hair of fake Chris popped up from the door to tell him the bathroom was free. After the ineluctable goodnight kisses, it was real Chris turn to enjoy a bit of relax.
He got into the already warm bathroom and got undressed, putting a silly shower cap on as his hair was clean and didn't need shampooing. He wasn't closing eyes anymore but still looking at that naked body in the mirror was a problem. He still avoided it.
He stepped in the shower and, resting under the hot jet, he recalled what had happened from the moment he woke up to just few seconds before.
Hardest day ever for sure!
He needed to brush away all that tension. He needed to unwind and feel good. The shower was helping. The soap's lavender scent was helping too. But he knew that it wasn't what he really needed. He knew what could make him feel better. If he were still a boy he'd have already been rubbing one out. And now he wanted to masturbate but he couldn't. Not now that he knew there was a chance to give it back to her.
Claire had said that he could - even if she did only refer to touching those body parts - but... the awareness that he would then know how his sister would climax was preventing him from sliding his hand down on himself. He tried to ignore the physiological need to touch himself and procuring himself some pleasure, by focusing on the copious foam that draped his skin and the dense, inebriating lavender perfume. He inspired the purple fragrance deeply, massaging the base of his neck and reclining his head backwards but he had to stop when, exhaling the humid breath, a faint moan escaped from his red lips. That feeble sound convinced him it was about time to rinse and go to bed.
Silently, he got out of the shower and dried his skin in the red bathrobe, put on his underwear and left.
But the temptation followed him right behind and hit really hard as he stepped into the closet to grab a pyjamas and glanced at the mirror. Just like after his first shower, he was blown away by the sight of that hot body, even if now it wasn't fully naked. His eyes wandered on that pale skin, never going past the throat height.
Beautiful body, indeed.
It's my body now.
Chris was going to experiment on his own skin that not only male testosterone would drive boys crazy, but also girls had their own hormones and libido that would light up when tickled.
He had been staring for an indefinite moment when his hands moved by themselves and grabbed his bra straps, pushing them down, right before pushing it all down, revealing his breasts. While keeping his eyes on the mirror, he slid delicately his fingertips from his shoulders to the soft skin of his bosom, trailing little circles around his nipples. He then touched them full hands and, massaging slowly, he started to breathe quite heavily and wondered if even real girls would find it that pleasant when touching their own tits or if it was just because he was a horny boy.
He reached down, hands palming the round curves of his underboobs and then sliding down his flat belly, fingers brushing the pale skin delicately. He bent his head aside, focused and lost at the same time, and fiddled a bit with the seam of the cute panties he was wearing before touching himself carefully, without even slipping the little piece of fabric off.
He was arousing fast. He knew how to touch a woman and now he was trying out his technique on himself. It was working pretty well since little surprising moans escaped from his lips. He bit them, not to prevent other moans to escape, but to feel their plumpness under his teeth, he wanted to kiss them.
He found those sounds, those musical vocalisms a delightful melody he wouldn't stop, not that he had the capability to stop them. He was too excited.
He let pleasure drive him. Drive him wild. Those shivers rising like voluptuous fumes from the pit of his belly, under the merciless touch of his famelic fingers, reaching up until intoxicating his mind, just made him moan more and throb harder.
So this is what women feel, he wondered.
He stopped only to slid the hand beneath the fabric as he was now too eager to feel the damp result of his own teasing.
He got closer to the mirror and, as the pleasure was getting bewildering, his legs sagged til he found himself kneeling in front of the reflected woman. Still touching himself, he accidentally met her gaze.
That look again.
An incredibly aroused Claire was looking right in his eyes while masturbating, panting and moaning, moving her hips seductively, drawing loose circles in the air with them, indecently staring with her killer eyes, ocean blue irises blazing from behind a wild layer of messy auburn hair, lusciously pulled away with a smooth gesture of the other hand.
That was sick. But he was far too beyond to stop right there. His rubbing went furious and wild, the wet sounds produced by it stirring in the air, until he came, shivering in absolute pleasure, clasping his thighs together, letting out a sharp little cry and burying his face in the mirror under the forearm he had slammed on it, steaming the glass with his hot heavy breathing.
"Oh, fuck…" he whispered, but no regret seemed to soil his words, rather that panted whisper sounded more like a praise to clitoris and its magnificence.
He had just had his first orgasm after more than a week, his first orgasm in a female body, his first masturbation as a girl and he had done it to his sister. To her body, her face, her eyes.
That was sick. That was dirty.
Yet it had been wonderful.
He leaned back and sat on his ankles, keeping his eyes low. He slowly slid off his hand from the floral panties and looked at the shiny humidity staining his fingers. He looked back at the mirror. Claire was staring at him with a naughty grin while saucily licking the corner of her mouth with the tip of her tongue.
The following day them both needed an extra dose of pancakes and mother's love before hitting school again. It was another hard day and their expectations weren't disappointed.
Many times both Claire and Chris made their friends look puzzled or worried. Many times they found themselves into those tricky situations they should have avoided so bad.
Real Claire even barricaded herself inside a toilet stall because of another panic attack.
Professor Wong was really a masterclass bitch and had scolded her in front of everybody as she didn't like at all the too little efforts her favourite student was putting into studying her subject, and complained about Chris Redfield suddenly giving up on maths for no apparent reason, making fake Chris appear like a total jackass unable to answer the simplest maths question.
She fought really hard to push that crisis back, to stop quivering and breathing that hard and to suppress the rising wrenching in her guts. Even keeping her knees from collapsing on the dirt ground wasn't easy, she had a great deal of trouble to grab the walls, grab her chest, try to normalize the panting and avoid to fall inside the toilet at the same time since her legs were suddenly weak like jelly.
Other guys in the bathroom just thought someone was having a savage whack in there.
Now that she knew that the switch might be fixed, all her anxieties and worries about her brother's school career, reputation, friendships only grew bigger, unnerving her.
Chris's friends noticed that something wasn't right with their friend, but they had to desist in front of fake Chris' fake smiles, fake reassurances, fake excuses.
Fake Claire's friends had their good share of worries too. And being them all girls, real Chris had to put much more effort into deceive their pressing questions. He wanted just to stick to the fucking plan but being surrounded by so many chatty, curious and gossipy girls made it impossible.
All that girly talking had another consequence, though.
He was discovering many details about Claire, things he never guessed as a brother, things she kept from him. Mostly about her love life.
He already knew his sister had had her first experiences with boys, even if she had never introduced anyone to him, but knowing she had actually had sex made him feel uneasy and woke up violently his brotherly jealousy.
No guys were worth of touching her. Such an hypocritical thing to think... by someone who had slipped his hands in her panties.
Also, there was still that Bitch Vickers thing to ascertain. He hoped it wasn't him the guy whom Claire had lost her virginity to. He couldn't bear knowing that, the now his body, had been desecrated by that motherfucker. He regretted Vickers was already at the college as he would have liked to kick his ass, no matter he was in a petite body, his rage was so deep he could've smashed a wall barehand. He had to catch up with his sister about that later.
It was only Tuesday and they went back home wishing weekend would come fast. Wrecked and miserable.
The infamous plan, besides school, considered also their other usual activities. In fact, on the previous Sunday, when refining the plan, real Claire agreed to keep bringing that heavy muscled body to the gym as her brother used to. Real Chris then taught her all the hardware names and functions, how to do exercises properly, how to warm up, and many other tips. That was actually easy for Claire to understand, remember and, later on, to put into practice. As that body was really strong she found easy to train, also, sweating and lifting weights was a precious way to release tension for her.
But real Chris couldn't go to the ballet school. That required technique not just strength. They tried to make him dance and, even if real Chris found that his sister's body kept balance easier and laughed hard when he found his leg less than one inch far from his nose, he admitted he wasn't able to dance. They resolved to make Lily call the ballet teacher saying that for at least 5 weeks Claire couldn't go because of a bad muscle tear and doctors recommended to rest. They had bought some time. Real Claire, however, made real Chris promise he'd be stretching and doing light exercises at least every two days, just to keep muscles toned and flexible.
On that Tuesday evening they were in the basement talking about those things. The entrance to the room they were in was at the end of a staircase that connected it to the living room. On the left of the entrance there was a small bathroom and on the right the laundry room, that also had inside a folding door hiding the boilers and electrical cabinets. At the far end of the room there were a weight lifting bench and some heavy handlebars, things that real Chris used during weekends when the gym was closed. And on the longer wall, by the right side, there was a huge mirror, covering most of it, with a dancing bar attached. That room was their personal gym and dance floor. It wasn't rare to see them training in their respective passions down there. Claire'd be dancing graciously in front of the mirror while Chris'd be doing push ups.
Real Claire started to look intensely at the mirror, she made her brother come close and observed.
"You know Chris... we are switched but in the mirror we are alright. In the mirror left is right and right is left, so Claire is Chris and Chris is Claire. If we don't move we can even pretend we are in our real bodies and everything is just fine. It's weird you know? For the first time the reflection is more truthful than reality."
"Yeah... that's twisted, Sis." He couldn't help letting his mind go back to what he did in front of another mirror on the previous night.
They looked at each other faces, their faces, for a while before fake Chris eventually started to move. Started to dance.
That manly body wasn't as flexible as her previous one, but the technique she had quite made the rest. She was moving smoothly, following a silent melody, an invisible rhythm, a random choreography. Her movements had a delicate and feminine allure, so unusual to see on that body but still so natural, like fake Chris had been dancing all his life.
Real Chris watched the scene both moved and amused: his heart ached a bit for he knew his sister was missing her favourite hobby but seeing her flying around in that muscular body of his, painted a warm smile on his gorgeous face.
"What?! Is this the highest you can lift a leg?!" She squealed, laughing at her brother while she was desperately trying to push her right leg up. A hint of a pain in the groin made her cautiously push it back down.
Real Chris laughed along shrugging. "I could tell you the same about those handlebars over there" he replied smirking, drawn back from his thoughts.
"Touché" she replied with a bubbling laughter "Well then... I think is time to try out this famous strength of yours by myself!"
And that said, she approached the smaller figure and, hands firmly gripping at both sides of the other's waist, she lifted him offhandedly.
Real Chris had done that same thing to her a million times, to show off his physique, but now it was him the one tilting horizontally above that huge body.
"WOW CHRIS! I can't believe I just lifted a whole person this high!" She yelled, super excited.
She lowered him on her chest, keeping him lifted like he was a child. He parted his skinny legs and wrapped his sister's big torso and his arms enveloped her robust neck.
"Hell yeah, Claire! It's so fucking cool! I had never been lifted this way either since I was eight or nine... I don't remember... since Dad was no more strong enough to lift me!"
"Oh, and it's so weird to have someone clung on me… Geez, I didn't think I was actually this light… look! I can lift you effortlessly!"
"That's because your light, of course… and also 'cause my muscles are awesome!" real Chris replied proudly, patting his previous back.
They were laughing. They were hugging tightly. They were alright. Small moments of serenity in an ocean of torment. They were alright only when they were together. Home was their haven, each other their salvation.
The title is freely inspired by the song "Dancin' in Circles" by Lady GaGa.
UNLOCKED CONTENT: you can now read the chapter number 4 in Behind the Scenes Chronicles, titled "Swirling Around" where that first lame attempt of mine inwriting smut will be widely improved.