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Body Double
 

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 (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.