I collapsed forward, but instead of hitting Chrissy's back, I hit a bench or something with an echoing bang. I opened my eyes to see a lot of people looking back at me. The bench I'd hit was a church pew! I wasn't sure if I'd screamed out before or after my jump.
"Uh, oh boy."
I smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, I slipped."
Apparently my scream had been before the jump. Everyone was already turning back to the front of the church. I took a moment to gather my thoughts and take in who I was now.
Hmm, long brown hair, a dress, small, but definitely visible breasts. Oh God, I was a girl! Again! I dropped my face into my hands. My one and only experience as a girl had been strange, to say the least. I didn't know how a girl was supposed to act. Granted, it had been my first jump, but I'd almost given myself away.
"Are you alright, Sister?"
Sister? "I'm fine." The woman sitting next to me was dressed in a similar dress to mine; plain and clean. A gold cross hung from around her neck. On her other side sat another woman in the same garb. Oh no! It can't be! A nun! Whoever's directing my jumps must be laughing up a storm right about now. Were my jumps getting progressively harder on purpose? Was I caught up in some cosmic, sexual video game that I keep leveling up in?
Oh well, as long as I'm sitting here, I might as well see what I can find out about this woman I was occupying. I saw that her name was Shannon, she'd joined the church when she turned 18 as a way to escape her father who had been molesting her since she turned 8. What I could see in her memory was garbled and terrifying. How could someone do that to a little girl? True, this made this jump even harder, but I couldn't really focus on that at the moment, I was filled with righteous anger, ready to lash out at whoever gave me the slightest provocation.
With a deep breath, I tried to calm myself. These feelings, as justified as they were, were not wholly my own. Some of Shannon's were leaking into my thoughts. I can see why she became a nun, it was either that, hurt herself, or hurt someone else.
I turned my attention to the priest. An older man, but not overly so, probably mid-40s. He had black hair, just beginning to add some salt at the temples. I couldn't see them, but Shannon's memory provided me a brilliant view of his eyes, a pale blue, almost gray. In fact, she had quite a few intense memories of the man.
Oh man! She was in love with him! She didn't know how to express those feelings, and it wouldn't be too proper to express them anyway. It didn't help that she was scared of just about any man with any power over her. Fear and love were warring in her heart every time she saw him, and being a nun, she saw him quite a lot. She'd evidently grown a reputation as being very quiet and withdrawn, shy even.
Considering where I was: "Oh God," I silently prayed, "What the Hell am I supposed to do here?"
I didn't get an answer. I didn't really expect one.
Suddenly, the nuns around me were standing up, so I followed suit. After the priest said a few things, we sat back down. Then later, we stood up again. Then we sat, then we kneeled. Then we walked in a line and received Communion. The Eucharist was a dry little wafer, but the sip of wine helped be swallow it.
I didn't know how often a nun went to church, but if I had to do this many more times before I somehow got out of here, I'd go insane.
Finally, Mass ended and I followed the nuns out of the church. I was told that Father Stephen wanted to see me, so I went into his office. He'd removed his robes and was wearing a nice, but plain sweater over tan khakis.
"I heard you slip."
"I'm sorry, Father," I answered with downcast eyes.
"No need to apologize. I was speaking about what we owe our Father, but I can see how that may sound to someone with your ... past."
"Sister. Shannon, look at me."
I raised my eyes and I could see the concern in his.
"You haven't really talked much about what happened before you came to join us. I know the broad strokes, but if you need to unburden your soul, please feel free to talk to me."
Tears started falling from my eyes, and I couldn't help but begin to tell him the things that I saw in Shannon's memory. At every incident, I could see the look in Father Stephen's eyes grow harder and more full of contempt. At the end of the whole story, I could barely breathe.
Then his arms enfolded me and held me. The constriction in my chest eased. I could only hope that Shannon was able to feel the relief I was experiencing for her. Not for the first time, nor probably for the last, I cursed the fact that I never saw what happened after I jumped, I never knew how much the people I'd replaced knew or understood about the experience.
I could feel Father Stephen beginning to let me go, and impulsively I turned my head and kissed him. I could feel him returning the kiss for maybe a second or two, then he pulled away.
"Sweet child, I'm sorry, but I can't. I-" He looked flustered, and I knew he had feelings for Shannon as well. "Please, go back to your room, and rest. It's been an emotional couple of hours for you."
I nodded and stood up. He tried to look busy, but I could see he was just shuffling papers around. I walked to the door and glanced back. He'd turned to the side and had his finger tips resting on his lips, which were turned up in a sad smile.
Maybe this jump wouldn't be quite so difficult as it seemed at first glance.
Back in my room, I saw that Shannon lived very spartanly. I'm not sure if all the nuns were expected to have so few personal touches or possessions, but Shannon's room looked almost like an inexpensive hotel. She had a bed, neatly made. A mirror on a desk with a little stool in front of it, and a closet filled with clothing that was identical to what I now wore.
I walked into the room, and caught my reflection in the mirror for the first time. I could see why Father Stephen had first returned the kiss before rational thoughts had retaken him. Shannon was a beautiful little waif. She had long brown hair pulled neatly back and barretted. Her face was long and delicate with pale skin. As I'd noticed before, her breasts were small points in her habit, only a slight curve at her hips showed she was a woman. A quick glance into her memory showed me she was only 22. She'd only been 4 years removed from the abuse.
I couldn't help myself. After the emotional release and then the kiss, I was feeling a now familiar tingle. I knew Shannon had never given herself pleasure, equating anything sexual with pain and degradation, but I wasn't Shannon and I couldn't see any harm in giving her the release her body so desperately needed.
I closed the door, noticed the lack of a lock with a bit of dismay, but began to remove my clothes. As the habit hit the floor, the reflection in the mirror became an entirely more erotic one. Her skin was flawless, and her muscles well-toned. In another life, Shannon might have been a model, or just about anything.
I ran my hands over my hips, up my rib cage and over the bra covering my breasts. My nipples seemed to be very sensitive, even through the bra, the slight rub over them had them aching for more. The bra dropped and I could see the nipples sticking out quite far, very stiff. I rubbed my hand over them again, now skin to skin and the sensation made me gasp.
.... There is more of this story ...