Gif: THE URGE TO MERGE (Patreon)

Timothy was sitting by himself at a crowded nightclub, too shy to dance, when a pale, pretty ginger girl sat herself beside him and gave him a hungry smile.

"I want your body," she said. "I want it now."

He chuckled, taken aback by her bluntness. He'd never had a girl come on to him like that before. Maybe all his time on the Peleton was finally paying off!

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah," she said. "You might say that I've got the urge to merge. Will you do it with me?"

Timothy hadn't heard anybody call it "the urge to merge" since high school, or maybe middle school. This girl seemed intense and kind of weird, but he was willing to overlook a lot for a chick this hot.

"Sure," he said. "So, uh, your place or..?"

But before he could finish his question she was kissing him. Hot, wet, breathy kisses that made him dizzy, her tongue slipping between his lips to explore his mouth. She kissed with a raw urgency, a need, gasping and groaning as if they were already making love and not two people who'd met less than a minute ago. 

They kissed and kissed until he felt a funny tug on his lower lip, as if their mouths had suddenly been glued together. He tried to pull away and found that he couldn't, they really were joined somehow, but then the redhead leaned back and their lips separated with a soft, wet little pop. He wondered if the girl was wearing some kind of weird, extra-sticky lipstick, but it felt like something more than that. It felt as if their flesh had actually fused somehow, their lips melting together.

The redhead gave Timothy a knowing smile and touched his cheek. Her fingertip sank into his skin and stuck there like he was made of chewing gum, and when she pulled her finger away his vision wobbled as his cheek snapped back. The redhead giggled, looking pleased with herself. Look what I can do.

Timothy wondered if the girl had slipped some sort of drug in his drink, but then he remembered that he hadn't ordered a drink yet. He'd either lost his mind or this girl actually had the power to turn him from a solid to a liquid. He was like putty in her hands, all too literally.

"Yeah," the girl said. "It's happening, pal. Now, you do me."

She took his hand and placed it on her shoulder, and he watched in dumb amazement as his fingertips sank right into her skin. He could feel the warm, soft flesh of a woman all around his fingertips, enveloping him, and as he moved his hand he could see it bulging within the girl's shoulder. He flexed, watching her freckles ripple over the outline of his knuckles.

Timothy knew he should be afraid, but he was lost in this girl's teasing smile, the way her big brown eyes seemed to glow in the dim light. She was daring him to go deeper, to see how far they could take this.

They kissed again, their faces oozing together so he wasn't sure whose tongue was in his mouth. He glanced up to see that nobody in the club seemed to be paying attention to them. From a distance they probably looked like two ordinary lovers, just some couple making out in a dark corner. You'd never know what was really happening, unless you were in it.

Her kissed the redhead's long, graceful neck, his lips sticking to her a little more each time, and when he reached for her bare waist his hand slipped beneath her skin as if was the most natural thing in the world. It was thrilling but somehow it also just felt right, as if this was the thing he'd been seeking all his life without knowing it. This was more intimate than sex, to melt together so they were literally part of each other. The last of his fear was fading fast and he wanted to swim in this woman, to get lost in her.

And then suddenly, he was lost. He leaned in to kiss the redhead, her face filled his sight and she seemed to wrap around him so everything went dark and he was encased in wet warmth. An instant later he was plopped back out on the couch but now he was sitting on the girl's side and he was looking at himself, another Timothy. He felt cool air on his shoulders and belly and when he looked down he saw he was wearing the girl's revealing top and low-rise jeans. Timothy had the girl's hands, her legs, and her cleavage too. He tugged at his neckline, peeking down to see pert little breasts in a lacy black bra. He hadn't shaved today, hoping the ladies at the club would find his five o'clock shadow sexy, but when he touched his face now the skin was girl-smooth.

The other Timothy was smiling at him. There was Timothy's own body, his own face, smiling the same teasing way that the girl had smiled. He could see her in there, looking out through his eyes.

Timothy touched her face, the face that had been his. He wanted to merge with the girl again, to get back into his own body, but her skin was solid now and the stubble of her cheek scratched his fingertips.

The other Timothy stood up and had a long, lazy stretch, then he cupped his crotch appraisingly and grinned.

"Not bad," he said. "I'm gonna have a lot of fun with this body."

Timothy tried to speak but his tongue didn't work right. He could only moan helplessly, in a woman's voice. The other Timothy made a tsk'ing sound, poor baby, then he bent down and tucked a lock of Timothy's new red hair behind his new ear. Timothy could feel an earring swinging there. He'd even gotten the girl's earrings.

"I'm gonna go now," the other Timothy said. "Don't try to follow me. Your new legs will be wobbly for a few minutes, while everything settles."

He stepped back and seemed to vanish into the darkness of the club. Timothy looked around frantically, trying to spot the creature that had stolen his face. He saw the silhouettes of a few dozen strangers on the dance floor, and in one of the club's mirrored walls he saw a pale, pretty ginger girl staring back at him with wide, wild eyes.