Even after all this time, the leaps could be terribly disorienting for Sam.

After all, he never knew if he’d be leaping into a man or a woman, into somebody old or young ... or even a chimpanzee! He didn’t know what year it would be, what time of day it would be, or if he’d be sleeping, dancing, boxing, or driving a car when the leap happened. So he’d learned to just be ready for anything.

Still, he had to admit he wasn’t quite prepared for the situation he found himself in this time.

The first thing he noticed was that he was standing a very dark, very small room.

“No,” he thought, feeling the hanging clothes behind him. “It’s a closet. I’m standing in a closet. But why?”

Then he realized he was wearing what felt like sweatpants ... and that they, along with his tightie-whities, were pulled down almost to his knees.

What’s more, Sam could tell that his dick was definitely hard. And it was in his hand. As if he was ... masturbating?

This confused him at first. After all, every time he leapt, it was his own body that made the leap. So even though he saw the “leapee” in the mirror, and even though the other people he came into contact with saw exactly the person they expected to see, it was actually him. And try as he might, he couldn’t remember having an erection a few minutes ago. In fact, he was sure of it, considering that the leapee was a nun who was about to leave the church before he showed up. And she didn’t have the equipment for a raging erection!

All Sam could think was that whoever he’d leaped into possessed a strong enough libido that it had somehow transferred over to him during the leap.

That wasn’t the biggest problem, though.

Because the closet door was open a crack, and Sam could see through it into somebody’s bedroom. A girl’s bedroom by the looks of it. And before he had time to think about why the leapee -- and now he -- was standing in a dark closet peeking into some girl’s bedroom, jerking himself off, the girl whose bedroom it was suddenly walked into his line of site.

And she was ... gorgeous. In her early twenties maybe, the girl’s long chestnut hair was pushed back off her face with a wide barrette, revealing in the one or two seconds he was able to see it a classically beautiful face and bright blue eyes. What’s more, she had a slim, hourglass figure to die for, which he could see plenty of, since she wore nothing but a white bra and panties that were so conservative, it could only mean he leaped into maybe the late 1950s or early ‘60s. Conservative or not, though, the bra was clearly struggling to restrain her massive breasts, which Sam had to guess were at least 34DD’s.

“Oh boy,” he whispered to himself. What had he gotten himself into this time?

As much as Sam knew that what he was doing -- or more precisely, what whoever he’d leaped into was doing -- was wrong, he couldn’t seem to stop touching himself. His dick was harder than he could remember it ever being since... “Of course,” he thought. “I’m a teenager. Or rather, he’s a teenager. The leapee. And whether I like it or not, I’ve been infected by his raging hormones.” It was the only explanation that made sense. But then if he was a teenager, then who was this girl he was peeping on?

Just then, the girl turned sharply to her left at the sound of somebody walking into the room. “Don’t you ever knock?” she asked, seeming annoyed.

The other person walked further into the room, until Sam could see it was a much younger girl, maybe ten or eleven, who bore enough of a facial resemblance to the gorgeous one that he guessed they must be sisters. “Mom wants to know if you’ve seen Roy,” the younger one said. “It’s almost dinnertime.” Other than their faces, the two looked nothing alike. Besides being shorter, the younger sister had a boyish figure and a flat chest, wore loose jeans and a t-shirt, and had her mousy, unkempt hair pulled back in a sloppy ponytail.

“Why would I have seen him?” the older sister asked. “I’m not his keeper.”

“Don’t get snippy at me, Kate. Mom told me to ask.”

“Well tell her I don’t know,” Kate said. “And close the door behind yourself.”

“Fine,” the younger one said, then stuck her tongue out at her sister, who didn’t see it, and left the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

“Brat,” Kate said under her breath, to nobody but herself.

Then, just as Sam was about to take his hand off his cock, she did something unexpected, and began preening in front of a freestanding full-length mirror. First she removed her barrette, and began running her fingers through her hair, elbows high, as if she were a model posing for pictures. Then she reached down and cupped her huge bra-encased boobs, one in each dainty hand (the fingernails of which he was excited to see were painted bright red), as she leaned in toward the mirror and puckered her lips. It was almost as if she were trying to emulate a much saucier version of Marilyn Monroe.

Up till that point, Sam had simply not been able to muster the willpower to let his erection go. But after watching this display, he began to actively stroke it, unable to stop himself, marveling at how amazing it felt. Again, even though it was technically his own anatomy, something about being connected to whatever testosterone fueled teenager was currently sitting in the waiting room back at the lab in his time made it feel the way it used to when he was in his early teens ... back when even a strong breeze or casually rubbing up against his blanket could trigger a mind-blowing orgasm.

“Just how old ... or young ... is this kid?” he wondered. “It doesn’t matter. I have to stop.” And so he did, releasing his dick and reaching down to quickly pull up his underwear and sweatpants. Because he had a strong suspicion that he was Roy. And that Roy was the brother of both Kate and the younger girl. Which made what he was doing ... kind of ... weird.

Off in the distance, somewhere else in the house, he heard a faint voice, but couldn’t hear what it was saying.

Kate responded instantly by yelling, “I’ll be there in a few minutes! I’m getting dressed!”

And so she did, quickly throwing on a flower-print dress that further confirmed his theory that he was in the late ‘50s or early ‘60s. Then she rushed out of the room and stomped down a set of stairs that, from the sound of it, must be on the other side of the wall from the dark closet he was standing in.

After a few minutes had passed and he felt confident nobody else would be entering the room -- after all, they were all eating dinner -- Sam tentatively closet opened the door and stepped out into the room. He moved quietly to the same mirror Kate had been standing in front of, so he could perform the standard post-leap ritual of seeing what his leaping host looked like.

Sure enough, Roy was a teenager. And quite a short, skinny pipsqueak of a teenager at that, maybe 14 or 15, with a terrible case of acne, greasy black hair, a nose that was too big for his weak chin, and wearing heavy black glasses. “Oh, great,” he said to himself. “I’m a nerd.”

Aware that he was still rock hard under the sweatpants, Sam couldn’t resist pulling those and his underwear down to see what he was packing. It was something he did almost every time he leaped into a man, as soon as he had an opportunity to do it when Al (as a hologram from the future) wasn’t looking over his shoulder.

What he saw once the tightie-whities cleared his balls genuinely surprised Sam. He himself was what he liked to think was “average” in the dick length department. And some of the guys he leaped into were definitely bigger than him. But he never expected to find that this nerdy kid who hid in closets to peep on his sister was hung like a horse. Although it was still a bit on the skinny side, no doubt because of his age, Roy’s penis was at least 8 inches long and jutted straight out from his body. Sam took a few minutes to admire it, even making a point of turning his body sideways for a profile view. “Damn kid,” he muttered, and for a moment regretted the fact that in reality, his own 5 inch penis was still there, beneath the quantum glamour.

“I don’t have time for this,” he thought, and pulled his pants back up again. He needed to figure out where his own room was and get something other than these loose sweatpants on before he went downstairs to dinner. And he also had to quickly come up with a story for why the little sister wouldn’t have found him there when she presumably came looking before she waltzed into Kate’s room.

“All in a day’s work,” he thought, and crept quietly out of the room.

His first family dinner as Roy went off without a hitch. If there was anything Sam had learned over the past few years of leaping, it was how to bluff his way through long conversations with people he knew nothing about while at the same time learning everything he could about them in the process.

It turned out the younger sister’s name was Allison (or Allie). And that the family’s last name was Williams. And that the father was a dentist and the mother was a homemaker, and that they always called the older sister Katherine, although she kept insisting that they call her Kate. And that the year was 1961 ... which he didn’t actually learn through conversation but thanks to a big calendar on the wall of the dining room, which also revealed that the month was April and the day was Friday the 14th. And that Kate was probably 21 or 22 and was a receptionist at her father’s dental office, which Sam got the distinct impression was something she wasn’t terribly happy about, based on how many times she mentioned wishing she could have gone to college like some of her friends did.

After dinner, they all sat in front of the giant black and white television as a family and watched The Andy Griffith Show, Candid Camera, and Ben Casey. As fate would have it, Sam ended up sitting next to Kate on the loveseat, while Allie sat between her parents on the couch, and the whole time, he couldn’t get the picture out of his head of Kate in her bra and panties, posing in front of the mirror. So every time she crossed her legs or accidentally bumped into him, he used it as an excuse to look over at her, at the swell of breasts beneath her dress, and could feel himself growing hard under his thick jeans and the double pair of underwear he’d put on earlier to make sure there was no way his inevitable erection would show through.

Once the shows were over, Sam wasted no time excusing himself to his bedroom, claiming he wanted to get some reading in.

A couple hours later, he was laying on Roy’s bed with the door closed, wearing a set of matching pajamas, holding a comic book in his hands that he was barely focusing on, trying to push away thoughts of Kate that had him wanting to jerk off in the worst way. He didn’t, though, because he knew it was only a matter of time before Al made his usual unannounced post-leap appearance. And that wasn’t the kind of thing he felt comfortable sharing with Al at this point in their strange relationship.Thankfully, before he could give into temptation, Al did finally appear at the end of the bed, holding the portable Handlink in one hand and a lit cigar in the other.

“Well well,” Al said, grinning. “You look like the ‘before’ picture in one of those Charles Atlas ads.”

“Can it, Al,” Sam told him. “I need you to tell me what Ziggy says about how to make the next leap.”

“What are you in such a hurry for?” Al asked. “Most people would kill to be a teenager again.”

“Yeah, well ... let’s just say it’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” Sam replied.

Al shrugged at this. “I’ll take your word for it.” Then he slapped the Handlink a few times until it emitted a distressed series of squeaks. “Ziggy says ... there’s a 67% chance that you’re here to ... wow ... okay ... to keep somebody named Katharine Williams from ... dying tomorrow?”

Upon hearing this, Sam sat up straight in bed. “Kate? How? What happens?”

“He doesn’t know. He just ... he says he found an obituary for her. And that tomorrow is the day she dies.”

“You’re not giving me a lot to work with here, Al! How am I supposed to keep her from dying if I don’t even know how she dies!”

From somewhere out in the hall, he heard Mrs. Williams say, “Roy? Is everything okay in there?”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “Sorry. I was just reading something out loud.”

“Okay, then. Well, try not to stay up too late,” she replied.

“I won’t,” he assured her. “Good night.”

“Good night, sweetie.”

He turned back to Al, who simply shrugged and said, “What do you want me to do? All Ziggy has to work from is the newspapers. And there’s no mention of how she dies. Only that she does.”

“That’s just great,” Sam replied, this time in something close to a whisper. “Does the Roy in the waiting room know anything?”

“No. His brain is all swiss cheese. We keep asking him about his sister and he keeps insisting he doesn’t have any sisters. But he may just be saying that because he apparently thinks we’re extraterrestrials, and wants us to take him to our leader. I think maybe he’s read too many of those comic books.”

Sam considered this. In Roy’s shoes, suddenly waking up in the waiting room, he might be inclined to think he’d been abducted by aliens too.

“Anyway, the good news is that whatever’s happening to Kate, it’s not happening until tomorrow. So you’ve got time to figure it out.”

“Thank you, Al,” he grumbled, sarcastically. “That’s very helpful.”

“Yeah, well, I hate to drop bad news and run, but ... uh ... I have a date.” Sam’s lascivious friend pointed his thumb back in the direction of a door that only he could see. “But I promise you, if Ziggy comes up with anything else, anything at all, I will rush right back here and tell you about it.”

“What’s her name this time?” Sam asked.

“Their names,” Al corrected him, grinning devilishly. “It’s twins. Sheena and Leena.”

Sam just shook his head at this. “Of course.”

“Ta ta,” Al said, then tapped a button on the Handlink and swiped out of existence, leaving Sam alone in the room again.

“What am I going to do?” he wondered to himself. After all, he couldn’t just come out and ask Kate how she was going to die. Odds were, unless she planned to kill herself, and she didn’t seem the type for that, she had no more idea than he did how it was going to happen. And what if it was supposed to happen first thing in the morning?

He lay there in bed for another hour, mulling it over, until out in the hall, he heard several sets of footsteps climbing the stairs.

“Goodnight, Mom,” Kate said. “Goodnight, Dad.” Then both parents said good night to her as well, just before two doors closed.

Sam bided his time, waiting for the sound of Kate emerging from her room to go into the bathroom, where she presumably brushed her teeth, went to the bathroom, and did whatever else girls do before bed, and then returned to her room, closing the door behind her again.

“Now’s my chance,” he thought to himself.

Padding barefoot across the room to his door, he pressed his ear up against it before carefully turning the knob and peeking out into the hallway. There was nobody out there, and the only light that he saw under anybody’s door was Kate’s, which he quietly crossed the hallway to reach. As lightly as he could, he tapped on her door with one finger. “Kate? Can I talk to you?”

She opened the door wearing a yellow full-length nightgown with long sleeves that seemed both a bit dowdy and yet somehow sexy too. Because he could tell from the shape of her breasts beneath the material that she wasn’t wearing any kind of bra. Unlike earlier, her chestnut hair fell freely over her shoulders, and the brush in her hand told him he’d just interrupted what was probably a nightly ritual for her.

Kate looked surprised to see him there, but not as annoyed as he thought she might have been.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I, um ... I just need to ... ask you about something,” Sam told her.

“So ask me,” she said. “I’m getting ready for bed.”

“Can I just come in? I ... don’t want to wake up Mom and Dad.”

Kate looked at him quizzically when he said this last bit, but stepped aside, let him into the room, and closed the door gently behind him.

Sam took it upon himself to sit on her bed, figuring it would be harder for her to ask him to leave again if he made himself comfortable. Also, the sight of the swell of her tits under the nightgown was already starting to give him ideas, and he only had one pair of underwear on under the thin material of his pajama bottoms. He stood a better chance of hiding his growing erection if he sat down.

Standing in the middle of her room, looking down at him, she asked, “Why did you just say that?”

“Say what?” Sam asked, confused.

“Mom and Dad,” she clarified. “They’re not your parents.”

Without warning, Al walked through the closet door, as if it weren’t there at all, and said, “She’s right, Sam.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked, directing the question at both of them.

“According to Ziggy,” Al went on, banging at the Handlink every so often, “your parents ... Roy’s parents ... both died four months ago, on New Year’s Eve. It was a car accident. They lived just down the street. As far as he can tell ... the Williams have been taking care of you ever since. And your last name isn’t Williams, it’s ... Friedman.”

“Your,” Sam said, before Kate could answer what probably sounded like a ridiculous question to her. “I said your. As in, your Mom and Dad. Not mine.”

“Nice save, Doctor,” Al said, while eyeing up Kate as if for the first time. “And may I say, I bet you’re relieved not to be related to her.”

“Oh,” she nodded. “Sorry. I didn’t hear that part.”

“It’s okay,” Sam told her, while giving Al a surreptitious dirty look. “I was trying to talk low. So they wouldn’t hear me.”

Kate nodded some more. “That makes sense.” Then she stepped over to her desk, turned the chair around, and sat a few feet away from him.

Disappointed that she hadn’t chosen to sit next to him on the bed, Sam sat there sheepishly, wondering what he should say next.

“Hey, Sam,” Al told him. “The twins are waiting, so I’m going to fly. Good luck!” And then, after ogling Kate one last time, he disappeared again.

Looking a bit sad for some reason, Kate held her brush in her lap and asked, “So what was it you wanted to ask me?”

“Oh,” he said. “Just ... why aren’t you going to college?”

She chuckled at this, which was an intoxicating sound to Sam’s ears. “You know, if I had to bet on what kind of question you might ask me, that wouldn’t even have been on the list.”

“Really?” he replied earnestly. “Why not?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “It doesn’t seem like the kind of thing somebody who’s fourteen years old would ask.”

Sam grinned at this. “What if I’m a thirty-seven year old man trapped a teenager’s body?”

Kate eyed him up dubiously. “Has anybody ever told you you’re a strange person?”

He shrugged at this. “Once or twice. So what’s the answer?”

“To what? Why I’m not in college?”

Sam nodded. “You’re clearly smart enough to be.” He was basing this on many of the statements Kate made during dinner, ranging from science to politics to literature. Even though Mr. Williams tended to shut her down, to mansplain everything, and to dismiss her thoughts (as well as her mother’s) every chance he got, it was hard to hide the fact that Kate was what his own father would have called “one smart cookie”.

Hearing this made her smile in a way that made him feel proud. Because clearly, it wasn’t a sentiment she heard often. “Thanks,” she told him. “That’s sweet of you.”

“I wasn’t trying to be sweet,” he insisted. “I mean it. You’re smarter than most of the guys going to college.”

Once again, Kate chuckled at this. “And you would know this how? Last I checked, you’re still in middle school.”

“I know, but ... I have friends at school ... whose older siblings are in college. And they’re all idiots compared to you.”

Kate nodded at this. “I see. Well, I really do appreciate it, Roy. And I know you haven’t been here that long. But you know my father. The last thing in the world he’s ever going to do is send me to college. He just wants me to find some guy to marry and start popping out grandchildren. Preferably boys he can hand his practice down to.”

“That can’t be true,” Sam said.

“Okay, I take it back,” she told him. “Maybe you don’t know my father very well.”

“And even if it is,” Sam insisted, “then you just have to make him understand it’s not what you want.”

This time, Kate laughed out loud, caught herself, and threw a hand over her own mouth. Then she stood, and began pacing lightly in front of him. “You make it sound so easy,” she said, her breasts jiggling under the nightgown in a way that made what had been a mostly flaccid penis begin to come to life. “As if my father is the only person in the world who thinks the way he does. As if this whole stupid town, the whole stupid world isn’t filled with people who look at me as just another pretty face waiting for some man to come along and make her life complete.”

Sam squirmed a bit, feeling his erection grow in his lap. “And so what if they do?” he said. “That’s just now. At this point in history. It won’t always be that way. One day, women will have all the same rights as men. They’ll be astronauts and CEOs and politicians. They’ll have a seat at the table. But it’s going to take smart women like you to get that ball rolling. If you go along with the status quo, then ... well, then you’re saying you’re okay with it. And based on what you’re saying, I don’t think you’re okay with it.”

Kate stopped pacing and stared at him, wide-eyed. “Wow.”

“What?” he said, quickly glancing down to see if maybe she was referring to his dick, which felt rock hard at this point. But he was leaning forward and had his arms crossed over his lap. So there was no way she could see it.

“That was ... a lot,” she said. “I’m starting to think maybe you really are a thirty year old guy trapped in a teenager’s body.”

Sam laughed uncomfortably at this. “I just ... I read a lot of science fiction books. And in some of those, it talks about how things will be different in the future. How women will have more power than they do now. More opportunities. And I think that’s a really cool idea. Don’t you?”

After a large sigh, Kate sat next to him on the bed. Like, right next to him, her shoulder touching his shoulder. It was maddening.

“I mean,” she said, “of course I do. It just seems like ... too much to hope for sometimes.”

Without thinking, Sam reached over and put his hand on Kate’s. When he did, she seemed a bit shocked at first, then locked her bright blue eyes on his in a way that seemed so vulnerable that it made him feel vaguely uncomfortable. Then he said, digging the quote out of his imperfect memory, “Optimism is the faith that leads to achievement. Nothing can be done without hope and confidence.”

For a moment, it almost seemed as if she might cry. “That was ... beautiful. Who said that?”

“Helen Keller,” he told her.

Kate lit up at this. “Yes! I read about her. She’s blind and deaf, right?” Sam did some math in his head, and realized it would be another year or two before the movie The Miracle Worker would be released, at which point everybody who didn’t already know Helen Keller’s amazing story would become fascinated by it. He remembered going the theater to see it with his mother as a kid, and it changed his life.

“Exactly,” he said. “And yet she wrote books, gave speeches, and was a founding member of the American Civil Liberties Union.”

“And here I am,” Kate said, looking down at her lap as if embarrassed. “Whining about how my father won’t let me go to college.”

Sam squeezed her hand. “You’re not whining. You’re just frustrated. It’s understandable.”

Kate first looked down at his hand, then up into his eyes again. “Who ARE you?” she asked, looking serious.

“Um ... what?” Sam’s heart raced in his chest.

“I mean, just yesterday, I was telling my friend Stacey what a pain in the ass you are. And I felt really bad about it. Because ... you know ... I’m sorry about your parents and everything. But ... you’re usually this kind of ... annoying troll who either walks around complaining or never leaves his room.” Then, as an afterthought, she added, “No offense.”

He smiled sheepishly at this description, glad to have a snapshot of what Roy was usually like. “None taken.”

“But then today ... now ... it’s like you’re ... somebody else. Somebody different.” She shook her head. “Sorry. I know that sounds stupid.”

“Not as stupid as you think,” he insisted. “I mean, sometimes ... people just wake up a different person. Because we can. Because we’re human.”

Kate smiled at him. “See? You say things like that, and it’s like I just want to...” She stopped herself, blushed, took a deep breath, then quickly rose to her feet and stepped away, her back to him.

“Want to what?” Sam asked, and stood as well, without really thinking about the implications of it.

As Kate turned to face him again, based on the direction that her eyes moved -- downward -- she immediately noticed the bulge in his pajama bottoms, which was only as restrained as it was at the moment because of his underwear. But still, it jutted out considerably.

“Oh boy,” she said, her eyes growing wide as she blushed yet again. “I’m sorry, I...”

Sam quickly threw his hands over his crotch to hide how aroused he was. “No, I’m sorry. I ... it’s just ... I didn’t mean to.”

Just when he thought she might start yelling at him and throw him out of her room, Kate put her hand over her mouth and started giggling.

He wasn’t sure what to make of it at first, and so started giggling nervously himself. “What’s so funny?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Nothing. I just ... it was honestly the last thing I expected to see, hee, hee, heeee...” And then she devolved into more giggling.

“You know,” Sam said. “Laughing at a guy when he’s like this can give him a complex. Especially at my age.”

“Didn’t you say you were thirty-seven?” she asked, and tittered at her own joke.

“Maybe I should go,” he suggested, and started moving toward the door.

“No,” she insisted, putting her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t. I’ll be fine.” Then she giggled once more, as if to get it out of her system, and led him back to the bed, where they both sat again, side by side. “I’m sorry,” she told him, pulling her hand away from his arm. “I guess me touching you probably isn’t helping matters any.”

“It’s okay,” he said, grinning sheepishly. “I don’t mind.”

“I bet you don’t.” Once again, she looked him deeply in the eyes. “What am I going to do about you, Roy?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, half an hour ago, I was feeling sad and lonely and terrible.”

Sam interrupted her. “I have a hard time imagining you being lonely.”

“What? Because I go out with friends a lot? Because I go out on dates? Here’s a piece of wisdom for you, smart guy. Being around other people isn’t a cure for being lonely. Sometimes, I feel the most lonely when I’m in a room full of people. Like at a party or something. Or on a date.”

Sam nodded at this. “I know exactly what you mean.”

“Take this big party Stacey wants me to go to with her tomorrow night, for instance. In the city. She’s all excited about it, because the guys who invited her are all advertising executives. And all I can think about is how it will be loud and overcrowded. And how the guys will probably try to get us drunk so they can take advantage of us.”

“Probably,” Sam agreed, a bit jealous at the prospect.

“And before half an hour ago, I was all ready to do it. But now ... I’m not so sure.”

“Because of something I said?” Sam asked.

“No. Because of EVERYTHING you said,” she corrected him. “Because you’re right. I deserve better.”

“I don’t remember saying those exact words. But I definitely believe them. You deserve anything you want out of life.”

This time, it was Kate who wrapped her hand around his and squeezed. “See? There you go again.”

Unfortunately, since Sam’s hand had been covering his crotch at that moment, it meant that her fingertips brushed against his throbbing erection through his pajama bottoms and underwear, sending a momentary burst of pleasure through his body and making his dick twitch noticeably.

Instinctively, Sam tried to push her hand away.

“Just stop,” she told him, smiling, pushing his hand back down into his lap. “It’s not like I don’t already know what’s going on down there at this point. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“I don’t?” he asked.

“You don’t,” she said. “Just let yourself relax. I mean, it’s just a boner, right?”

Sam chuckled at this, blushing a bit. “You know that word?”

“You’re not the only one who reads books around here, Mister Man.”

“I guess not,” he said, and after taking a deep breath, let both of his hands rest at his side, one of which was still being held by hers. This made his erection, which had gotten itself stuck in a fold of his underwear, incredibly obvious and hard to deny. “There,” he said.